Practically Wicked (35 page)

“Because that’s not the sort of business that interests me—crops and rent and politics.” He shook his head. “I would do something else. I would be in trade.”

“Trade?”

“Are you shocked?”

“Yes, rather.”

“Because it’s unseemly for a man of my station?”

She thought she heard a touch of defensiveness in his voice, but she couldn’t say for certain. “No, because it requires a considerable level of dedication, above and beyond simply not being lazy. You told me when we first met that you didn’t dedicate yourself to anything because it was entirely too much work.”

“I was lying,” he admitted. “I wasn’t about to admit to the lady I was hoping to impress that I wished to be a man of business. I wasn’t that drunk.”

Anna was certain that, for as long as she lived, she would never understand how it was the inebriated sorted out their priorities. Drunk enough to offer marriage, but still sufficiently sober to keep his secret? It was baffling.

“Why do you wish it?” she asked.

“Because what you have is what you’ve earned,” he explained. “And because what I might earn would be mine, not tied to an estate. And because I’m damned good at it.”

“You engage in trade now?”

“You’re sworn to secrecy.”

“Yes, of course.”

He nodded and reached for his wine. “I’ve made a respectable sum in the past six years. All under the name of Mr. Jeremiah Blackwater.”

“You’ve an alias? In earnest?” She broke out into delighted laughter when he nodded. “Oh, that’s
marvelous
. I’ve never met someone pretending to be someone else before.”

He tipped his goblet at her. “How would you know?”

“You have a point,” she conceded. “But why do you have one at all? You’ve never expressed a care for the opinions of the ton before, why care what they think of this?”

“I don’t, particularly. But my nieces could suffer for it.” He shrugged, as if a little embarrassed to have been caught caring. This was not, she realized, as easy a conversation for him as he would like to pretend. “It is one thing to remove oneself from good society. It is something else to drag four young girls along behind you. The eldest will make her debut in a few years.”

Anna considered that—an uncle with a reputation for excess would do little to harm his niece’s chance at a good match. An uncle who sullied his hands in trade would hardly render her a pariah, but there would be whispers and ridicule. Some doors would be closed to her, some gentlemen out of reach.

She smiled at Max, pleased with him for a dozen different reasons in that moment. “You see? Not half as wicked.”

“I’m glad you think so. It will make it easier to gain your cooperation when I ask you to marry me.”

Surprised by his careless words, and not a little hurt, Anna’s gaze snapped to his. “Don’t jest about such things. It’s not—”

“Why should I jest?”

“Are you…” She studied his face, found it difficult to read. “Are you being serious?”

“Perhaps.” He took a sip of his wine, eyed her over the rim of his goblet. “And if I was? If I was to request your hand in marriage tonight—?”

“I would say no, of course,” she cut in as her heart began to hammer. “I cannot believe we’re having this conversation.”

“You can’t be that surprised,” he muttered, lowering his glass. “It’s not the first time.”

It was the first time he’d broached the subject of marriage while sober; that was close enough. “And my reasons for saying no haven’t changed.”

He cocked his head, remembering. “You said no because you wanted the cottage and the hound.”

“Yes, and because I didn’t want to be a member of the demimonde or the beau monde.”

“Why not?” He set his drink aside, visibly irritated. “Why do you give such weight to the opinion of others?”

“I don’t—”

“Why do you bind yourself to someone else’s narrow definition of respectability and honor? Why should it make a difference to you?”

For her, it wasn’t a matter of being considered honorable or respectable, it was a desire for people to stop considering her altogether. But aside from that, it pricked at her to hear him speak so casually of respectability and honor, as if a woman might toss them away with all the care one might show an apple core.

“It’s all well and good for you to say,” she retorted. “You don’t
have
to care for your honor. You’re a viscount. In the eyes of society, you were born honorable. You’ve honor to toss away. Huge, unending quantities of it.”

“That’s not entirely—”

“What’s more, you can get it all back again if you wish. A bit of good behavior, a few words of atonement, and suddenly your antics were but youthful indiscretions.” She waved a hand that wanted to shake. “Boys will, and all that. You’re reformed now, redeemed, welcomed back into society with open arms.”

“That’s certainly not—”

“Do you suppose a woman like me will be allowed the same courtesy?” she pressed. “Do you know
any
woman who’s been allowed to completely free herself from ignoble origins, or a lady who’s been allowed to redeem herself after a fall?”

He didn’t answer, though whether it was because he couldn’t come up with a response or he was merely tired of being interrupted, she couldn’t say.

“No,” she answered for him. “There is no redemption for a fallen woman, nor acceptance for the daughter of a well-known courtesan. She is a spectacle for life.”

“A spectacle,” he repeated slowly. “That’s it, isn’t it? This has less to do with what others say than the notion they’re speaking of you at all. You don’t want the attention.”

“Yes, that
is
it,” she eagerly affirmed. She wanted so desperately for him to understand. “I loathed attending my mother’s parties. I hated being stared at, whispered about, being made the subject of speculation and wagers, and no end of jests, I’m sure. I don’t want to be a spectacle. I want to be like everyone else.”

“No one is like everyone else—”

“Don’t,” she cut in. “Don’t play with my words. This isn’t a game.”

“I don’t mean to make a game of it. Anna, look at me.” He waited until she lifted her eyes to meet his. “I don’t want you to be like everyone else. I don’t want you to be like anyone else. You’re perfect just as you are.”

Irritation melted away as pleasure warmed her from the inside, out.
“Max—”

“Marry me, Anna.”

Anna suppressed a groan as pleasure gave way to hollow longing. Oh, how she loved the idea of spending the rest of her life with Max. But oh, how she loathed the idea of being a viscountess. Just the thought of playing the part of Lady Dane in London made her stomach turn and her palms sweat. She’d not be just a spectacle amongst the demimonde then, but amongst the ton as well. She’d have gone from the Ice Maiden of Anover House to the Grasping Whore of McMullin Hall.

“We can’t marry, Max, you must know that. I can’t go back to London. I won’t.”

“You…” Max’s mouth thinned to a hard line. He glared at her, then swore once, gained his feet, and strode five feet away to glare at something in the distance.

Wishing she had some way to make things better, Anna watched him drag a hand through his hair then come back and stand before her with his legs braced apart and a determined glint in his eye. “Fine.
Fine
. A cottage it is.”

“What—?”

“But something closer to Caldwell Manor and McMullin Hall than next to your Mrs. Culpepper,” he grumbled. “I’ll not spend days in a carriage to visit the only other country gentlemen I know.”

Anna stared at him in astonishment. He meant it. He truly meant it. He would forgo London and stay in the country with her.

It was an astoundingly selfless, wondrously romantic offer. Oh, not
nearly
so wicked, she thought, and it was on the very tip of her tongue to say,
Yes, yes, a thousand times yes
. A life in the country with Max. A lifetime together to take walks and share meals and read quietly in the library or perhaps play a game of chess. It would be a dream come true…for her.

It would be his nightmare.

“You’d perish of boredom within a year,” she said quietly. And before that year was up, he would resent her for his choice, and she would think less of herself for having accepted his offer. She knew what it was to be well and truly trapped. He was the last person on whom she would wish such a fate.

“I wouldn’t. I’d—” He snapped his mouth closed and looked away. They both knew he would, or at least knew enough to fear he might.

Despite that knowledge, Anna was disappointed. A part of her, a small irrational and hopelessly romantic part of her, had hoped he might put up a convincing argument.

I’ll never grow bored, not with you. You will always be enough for me.

But instead he looked away from her, and Anna wished she could curl up into a ball to ease the ache inside her chest.

Max’s next question nearly startled the ache right out of her. “Are you dallying with me?”

“What? No.” The denial came automatically, because it just seemed so absurd, the notion that
she
might be playing with
him
. But it took only a moment for her to realize she had answered in haste. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t
think—
?”

“It is not my intention. I…” Now it was her turn to look away. “I care for you. I wish to be with you, for more than just today and tomorrow, but I cannot see my way to how. If that means I am dallying—”

“You wish to be with me?” Max cut in.

“Yes.”

“Well.” Max’s stance visibly relaxed. “Well then, this changes things.”

“It does?” No, it didn’t.

To her complete astonishment, a smile began to form on his face. “You want to be with me.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Then you’ll be with me,” he declared. And with that, he resumed his seat on the blanket.

Anna stared at him, caught between horror and reluctant admiration at his capacity for arrogance. “Max, it doesn’t work like that.”

“We’ll make it work. We’ll figure it out.”

Figure it out? Isn’t that what they’d just tried to do? Didn’t they just fail? “I’m not sure—”

Max took her hand, squeezed it gently. “I want to be with you now, here on this blanket, under these stars. Do you want the same?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s be together, and not waste a minute more of this beautiful night worrying about tomorrow.”

Anna considered it. She was more than happy to end a conversation she’d not wanted to have to start. And he wasn’t asking her to do anything she’d not already been doing since their first walk—namely, ignoring the fact that they had no future together. And so, when Max offered her an encouraging smile, she couldn’t see any reason not to smile back.

Except that she didn’t feel like smiling, particularly. She did it, for him, and for the hope that they might regain some of the enjoyment and easy companionship of earlier. But in truth, Anna knew things weren’t going to be the same again. Not tonight. Quite possibly never again.

 
 
Chapter 25

Anna returned to her chambers as the clock on her mantel struck one. Sighing, she dropped into the soft chair next to the fireplace and reached for the laces of her boots.

My God, what a day. So much had transpired between the time she’d woken up to now that she wasn’t sure how long it would take to sort it all through in her mind and come to some sort of—

A soft tap sounded on the glass of her balcony door. Her hand froze, her head turned. Surely not…

And there it was again.

“Pebbles,” she whispered, straightening. Someone was throwing pebbles at her balcony doors.

With a small, baffled sort of giggle, she rose from the chair and threw open the balcony doors, letting in a soft whoosh of fresh air. She stepped outside, peered over the iron railing, and discovered, without much surprise, that it was Max standing below.

He grinned at her and said, “Good morning, Anna,” in the exact same tone that he’d said, “Good night, Anna,” less than ten minutes ago.

She shook her head, laughing softly. “What on
earth
are you doing?”

“Romancing you.” He tossed aside the remainder of his pebbles. “Tell me I can come up.”

“Up? You mean climb up? Absolutely not. You’ll break your neck. Go inside and use the stairs. I’ll meet you in the hallway.”

“That’s not romance. That’s just sneaky.”

“It’s sensible.”

“Sensible?” he echoed, clearly disgusted. “To hell with that, I’m coming up.”

“Max, no, I…Oh, for…” Caught between amusement, irritation, and fear for his safety, she watched as he made his way up the uneven stone face of the house. “Serve you right if you fall and break your head, and don’t think for a moment I’ll…Good Lord, you
are
agile, aren’t you?”

The man was scaling the side of the house with remarkable speed. Within moments, he was parallel to the balcony. Then it was just a matter of grabbing hold and climbing over the railing, which he did with the easy grace of a cat.