Mary Jo Putney (22 page)

Another full-scale seduction scene didn't seem appropriate, so she hastily dressed in a simple apricot-colored gown and pulled her hair back, tying it with a matching velvet ribbon. She was very aware that if he decided to visit her regularly, tonight would do much to set the tone of their meetings.

All of the servants had retired for the night and she let him in herself. For a moment Gervase took her breath away. She had thought him an attractive man from the beginning, but now that she was intimately aware of the muscle and bone that lay beneath the restrained tailoring, she could hardly keep her hands off him. Perhaps she shouldn't; Madeline said that gentlemen liked a woman to take the lead sometimes.

She made herself step forward, placing her hands on his shoulders and lifting her face to kiss him. A warm, unexpected smile lit his face and he returned her kiss with interest, encircling her with a hug that threatened her ribs.

Eventually Diana broke off. "I'm sorry, my lord, I need to breathe."

"I suppose I do too," he agreed. He released her, then reached into his pocket. "You said you wanted to be surprised," and he laid a small brass figurine in her hand.

Diana examined the delicate Oriental workmanship with fascination. The figurine was about four inches high and depicted a graceful, voluptuously feminine woman with a serene face and a flower blossom in her hand. "How beautiful, Gervase. Is she an Indian goddess?"

He nodded. "Lakshmi, the Hindu goddess of fortune and prosperity, the consort of Vishnu. That's a lotus blossom that she carries. I kept her in my office at Whitehall, on the off chance that she might bring good luck. Since it was late, I could think of nothing else to bring you. I'm sorry. The figurine isn't worth much, but since you were interested in India, I thought she might please you."

She gave him a glowing look. "She does, but I didn't mean to rob you of something that you cherish."

She tried to return the figurine, but he folded it back into her hand, his fingers warm and firm on hers. "Lakshmi is the Hindu goddess of grace and womanly beauty as well as wealth. Clearly she belongs with you."

He had the most disconcerting knack for compliments. Diana gave him a dazzling smile. He reacted visibly, showing her a face quite different from his more public aspect.

She almost kissed him again, but the practical side that had developed in her years of motherhood took the upper hand. "You said that you came from Whitehall. Did you eat dinner?"

He looked blank. "I had breakfast," he offered.

Diana rolled her eyes in exasperation, then took his hand and led him downstairs to the kitchen. "You're under no obligation to feed me," he said mildly as she sat him down at the long scrubbed deal table.

"Perhaps not, Gervase," she said with an impish look. "But it is in my own best interest that you keep your strength up." While he laughed, she went to take stock of the larder. "There's cold sliced ham and bread and cheese. If you would like something hot, I can make an omelet."

Gervase hesitated. He hadn't even known he was hungry, but now he felt ravenous. Hot food sounded wonderful. "If it's not too much trouble, I'd like that."

"No trouble at all." To keep him from starvation for the next five minutes, Diana set bread and cheese on the table, then poured two beakers of ale, tangy and cool from the pantry.

Gervase felt a remarkable sense of well-being as he watched Diana move gracefully around the kitchen, stoking up the coal fire in what a very modern cooking range, snipping the ends of a chive plant that grew in a pot below the high, narrow window, then mixing them into the beaten eggs with slivers of ham and cheese. He'd had no idea Cyprians knew how to cook.

He admired the intentness of her face as she concentrated on her omelet. Strands of dark chestnut hair had escaped to curl around her neck, and she looked utterly delectable. Was this domestic comfort what life was for most people? If so, perhaps being a lord was more a liability than an asset.

But common men didn't have a Diana Lindsay tending their hearths. They couldn't have afforded her services.

Remembering the nature of their relationship took some of the pleasure out of the scene. It was in her interest to keep him happy, and obviously she was richly schooled in satisfying the many forms of male appetite.

Yet it was impossible to maintain the cynical thought as she served him the steaming omelet, the fragrance of chives scenting the room. Gervase said, "Aren't you going to have some? This is enormous."

She hesitated. "It does smell good. If you're sure there will be enough for you?"

"I think that half of this will ward off starvation a little longer," he said gravely.

She chuckled and got another plate, taking a quarter of the omelet for herself, then sat on the opposite side of the table. Having the smaller portion, Diana finished first and thoughtfully sipped her ale as she admired her visitor, glad to see the lines of fatigue disappearing from his face. "What do you do at Whitehall?"

He shrugged and carved off a thick slice of bread. "Mostly I move papers from one pile to another."

"That doesn't sound very exciting."

"It isn't."

Driven by a random imp of curiosity, Diana asked, "Are you really the chief spymaster of the British government?"

Had she not been watching so closely, she would have missed the slight hesitation as his fork paused in midair before he finished the omelet. "Who told you that?"

"Madeline. When she asked about you, that is one of the things she heard. Apparently it is commonly said."

Gervase looked at her, his gray eyes cool. "A great many things are said commonly, most of which are not true. Why would you be interested in such matters?"

She shrugged. "I'm not interested in them for themselves, but I'm interested in you."

He eyed her rather warily over his ale. "All I do is move papers around. People may interpret that any way they choose. What else did Madeline hear about me?"

Narrowing her eyes as she tried to remember, Diana said, "That you are very wealthy. That you keep much to yourself, though you could enter any level of society you chose. That you have a mad wife in Scotland." She listed the items as if they were of equal importance.

Gervase didn't reply directly, merely raising his eyebrows ironically. "With such an intelligence network, she accuses
me
of being a spymaster?"

Diana shook her head. "She accuses you of nothing. Like any good merchant, we were concerned with gathering the facts needed to make a decision."

"How very rational of you."

She smiled then. "Not really. No matter how logical the process, in the end I make all of my decisions for emotional reasons. I'm not a rational person, you know."

"Good," he said, his voice very soft as he stood and rounded the table behind Diana, pulling her into his arms. "By a strange coincidence, I don't feel very rational myself just now."

She gasped as he kissed her neck, then made one last hostess remark. "Do you wish to end your meal with a sweet, my lord?"

"Exactly."

She lifted her face for a kiss, thinking that it would be very easy to get used to this. The thought was a flippant one, and she was unprepared for the surge of passion she felt when his lips met hers. Raising her arms, she clung to him, feeling Gervase's own shocked and hungry response.

Dimly she sensed that he was equally startled at being seized by desires as unruly as a river torrent, but neither of them had the will or the desire to pull back. Doubt and caution would come later.

* * *

It was very late when Gervase left. Diana had fallen asleep, and after tucking the down quilt under her chin, he simply stood, feasting his eyes for long minutes before he could bring himself to leave. He had never met a beautiful woman who was devoid of vanity and the arrogance that beauty brings, yet Diana, who was the most beautiful of all, seemed without those flaws. She was generous in her lovemaking, her responsiveness was a man's deepest dream, and the mere sight of her could still rouse a flicker of desire in his exhausted and sated body.

Reality returned downstairs, where Madeline Gainford placidly awaited him. She had been sewing, but she put her workbasket aside to intercept him in the hall. Gervase stiffened warily as the shadowed figure came from the salon, and he relaxed only slightly after identifying her. What on earth could the woman possibly want at four in the morning?

If she was aware of his suspicion, she ignored it. "If you've a moment, my lord, I would like a few words with you."

"Of course." He followed her back into the salon and they both seated themselves, Gervase stretching his legs out wearily. He'd barely noticed Madeline Gainford when Diana had introduced them, but now he saw that she was very attractive, with the calm expression of one who has seen the best and worse the human race can offer. If he hadn't just taken another mistress he would have wondered if she was available, but at the moment it was impossible to feel interest in anyone other than Diana.

The wide brown eyes were scrutinizing him with the same thoroughness that he was exercising on her. The staring match might have gone on indefinitely if Gervase weren't so tired. "At the risk of sounding impatient, what do you wish to discuss? It is rather late for socializing."

"I am interested in business, not socializing, my lord. Diana told me she refused your offer of a monthly allowance in favor of random gifts."

"Yes, and what business is it of yours?" he asked, his deep voice balanced on the edge of irritation.

"Diana is my business, Lord St. Aubyn. Since you are willing, I would like to see the arrangement regularized."

Glancing down, she made a tiny, precise stitch as she prepared to expand on her statement, but Gervase cut her off, his voice rough. "So pimping is your trade, and you wish to extract the last farthing of profit out of her. Very prudent. You'll not find another wench so valuable anytime soon."

Her mouth tightened at his words, but her soft voice was level. "You mistake the matter. I wish to speak to you because I love Diana, not because I'm a panderer."

That was even worse. Gervase knew there were courtesans who preferred their own sex. Some men found the idea exciting, but the thought of Diana and this woman as lovers revolted him. "I see. Rather than trying to extract more money, you want to warn me off because you are jealous."

Disconcertingly, she laughed. "I express myself poorly. I love Diana as the daughter I never had, as a friend, and as a woman who saved my live in several ways. Not," she said with a gleam in her dark eyes, "in the fashion you luridly imagine." She shrugged expressively, "Diana is too inexperienced to know what she is turning down. It's all very well to be romantic and quixotic when one is young, but twenty years from now she will be glad to have savings to ensure a comfortable old age."

She set another stitch in her embroidery. "To a courtesan, having 'money in the Funds' is rather like the holy grail. I intend to see that Diana earns all the security she can."

Gervase closed his eyes briefly, wishing this interview was taking place at a time when his brain was in normal working condition. Was she really trying to protect her younger friend, or merely being greedy on her own behalf? Probably the latter, unless Diana had set Madeline to this task.

Opening his eyes, he said, "Every month Diana is my mistress, I'll have two hundred pounds deposited in an account in her name. You can tell her about it or not, as you choose, but you will not be able to touch a penny yourself. Is that satisfactory?"

He expected anger that the money was out of her reach, but she smiled serenely. "Perfectly satisfactory, my lord. A very gentlemanly thing to do."

He stood, saying with heavy irony, "Will there be anything else, Miss Gainford?"

"Yes. Please don't mention this arrangement to Diana."

His mouth twisted. "Do you really expect me to believe that she doesn't know what you are doing?"

She gestured gracefully, the candlelight glinting from the needle in her hand. "You should believe it. It's the truth."

"Ah, yes," he said, unable to avoid bitterness as he remembered the innocence on Diana's sleeping face. Diana, the consummate actress. "Everyone knows how truthful whores are."

There was some satisfaction in seeing the dull flush on her cheeks, but it was nowhere near strong enough to counter the dark mood that dogged his heels on the walk home.

* * *

The next morning it was easier to accept Diana's duplicity in having her companion demand more money. Doubtless the viscount's new mistress had her full female share of volatility and illogic; he supposed that after grandly refusing his offer of a regular allowance, she had changed her mind.

When he joined her for a morning ride the day after, he went prepared. Diana was waiting in her salon and she greeted him with a blithe kiss as the morning sun burnished her chestnut hair. Did she ever look less than ravishing? After bowing over her gloved hand, Gervase handed her a small item of filigreed gold.

Diana studied it in puzzlement, then gave him a smile that began deep in her lapis-blue eyes. "Should I recognize this? Perhaps it is too early in the morning and my wits are begging."