Lady of Pleasure (14 page)

“Friends?” Theodosia paused before the mahogany table. Removing her gloves, she tossed them aside and poured herself a large glass of cognac. She glanced back at him from over her shoulder and continued in a low tone, “I know what I saw, Ronan. You were watching her throughout the evening prior to what was supposed to be our meeting in the alcove that
you
arranged. You followed her about the ballroom in between conversations with other men, and yet you never asked her to dance. Not once. Nor did you approach her for conversation even though you and she are supposedly friends. Why is that?”

The woman was like a hawk. Yes, he damn well watched Caroline most of the night. She was beautiful to look at and he was still recovering from knowing it. “I didn’t want to be a nuisance.”

“I don’t believe you. Which is exactly why I passed off my meeting to her. I wanted to better understand what you two share.” She turned back to the cognac, her fingers plucking up the filled glass. She turned toward him and sampled from the glass, observing him from over its rim. “Her hair and gown remained too pristine after she returned to the ballroom for anything to have happened. Unless something did happen? Did it?”

He could feel his entire face prickling with heat remembering the way he had dug and dragged his hands all over Caroline’s body. And how he had been unable to keep his fingers from the hooks on her dress. “I’m not looking to get involved with her in that way.”

“Why not?”

“She deserves marriage.”

“And you don’t?”

“I have too many financial obligations sitting in France for me to consider it.”

“But this girl has money. Why not end all of your financial woes and marry her?”

He glared. “Since when did you become a goddamn matchmaker?”

She pursed her lips. “I’m not trying to upset you, Ronan.”
“Then what are you trying to do?”

She sighed. “Would you rather we not discuss this or her anymore?”

“Yes. I would rather. Cease taking an interest in her life. Or you’ll regret it.”

“I have no trouble moving on.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

She eyed him, fingering the crystal glass. After a long moment of silence, she casually said, “I heard your uncle is hosting a champagne party at an undisclosed location. People are whispering about it.”

Yes, his uncle was always good at organizing trouble. “He hosts one every year. What of it?”

She demurely lowered her eyes to her glass. “I have never actually been to one and have always been curious as to what goes on at them, given they are so exclusive. Could you secure us both an invitation? I thought it could be entertaining for us to do something different.”

Having sex with her in a house full of other people also having sex wasn’t his definition of different. “I don’t do champagne parties anymore. I outgrew them years ago. And if you didn’t know, for few do, more than champagne is involved. It’s a party that specializes in flagellation. Are you telling me you’re that sort?”

Her cheeks actually flushed. “I am always one for trying new things. I’m not prim, despite what you think.”

“Prim isn’t the problem. I don’t do whips.”

“We don’t have to. Couldn’t we just go and—”

“No. We are not going.”

She stared. “Aside from a few wild nights, Ronan, I really don’t ask much of you. Lest you forget, I graciously let you leave for thirteen months to Paris
away
from me, completely paid for
by
me.”

She
would
have to point that out.
“Are you telling me you don’t wish to entertain me anymore?” she demanded.

He set his shoulders and tried to soften what he knew he had to say. What he’d come here tonight to say. “I appreciate all that you have done for me, Theodosia. You know that. Out of all the women I have been with in this manner, you have renewed my faith in my dealings with women. But that said, I am not interested in pursuing this anymore, and in my opinion, it has lasted well beyond what it should have. I was only using you for money and you were only using me for—” He swept a hand toward the length of his body. “Admit it.”

She blinked rapidly and averted her gaze, her bare fingers tightening to white on the glass. She half-nodded and then asked, “It’s because of her, isn’t it?”

Ronan shifted from boot to boot, not wanting to think about Caroline. And most certainly not at a moment like this. “No. I was already set to end this. You’re a bit too controlling. And forgive me, but I’m tired of feeling like a dog on a leash.”

She glanced up, her features twisting. “I never meant for you to feel like that. Surely, you know that.”

He tugged hard on his cravat, knowing it. It agitated him. She was too attached for his liking.

She searched his face. “Give me something to remember you by. It’s been over a year since we…I will pay however much you want.”

“I’m not interested in taking any more money from you, Theodosia.”

She stepped toward him. “From what you uncle told me tonight, all the money you saved these past three years, Ronan, is gone. Do you mean to tell me you plan on finding someone else to pay for it? Who? None of these women will ever be as generous as I have been.”

His throat closed, knowing it.

She observed him. “How much money do you owe?”

He wanted to leave. “I have to go.”

“How much?” she prodded.

Humiliation bit into him. “I can manage.” He gestured rigidly toward the key on the bed. “Hand it up. I have to go.”

She moved toward him, blocking him in. “I know you, Ronan. You always try not to be a burden, and I refuse to accept that for you. Do you want me to make inquiries as to the amount of money you owe? Because I will. Whether you stay with me or leave, I will still go and make those inquiries. Which is why I ask that you save me some time. How much do you owe?”

He dropped his hand to his side not knowing how he was going to pay the remaining sum he owed for assisting his aunt. “A little over two thousand.”

Her voice softened. “I will pay for it. All I ask is that you secure me an invitation to your uncle’s champagne party for us. It will be our last night together. A celebration of sorts. Then you and I are done.” Her voice softened all the more. “One last night together, Ronan. A night of doing something I have never done before and probably will never do again. Let me live one last time in your arms. Please. It is all I will ask of you.”

Now he felt bad. Now he felt like he owed her a night. Jesus. How did women always manage to make him feel like there was more between them than there actually was? He huffed out a breath. Aside from the money, he hadn’t had sex in over a year himself. And after Caroline had up and riled him into— “Fine. I…fine. I’ll secure you an invitation. After which, we are done.”

She nodded, quietly strode over to the bed and swept up the key. Capturing his gaze, she strode toward him and held out the key between two fingers.

He dragged it from her fingers.

She lingered, searching his face and then tilted her face upward and leaned in.

Knowing she wanted him to kiss her, he edged back. “You know I never do.”

She lowered her gaze. “I thought your time in France would make you realize that you missed me. But clearly you didn’t.”

He sighed. “I do this for the money. You know that. I never led you to believe otherwise.”

She said nothing.

Sensing she was struggling, he touched her arm and gently added, “You deserve better than this, Theodosia. You deserve better than me and what you keep settling for. Remarry. Find yourself a good man worthy of being at your side.”

She blinked away tears, quickly turned away and waved him off. “No man could ever replace my Eric. You are the closest I have come to touching him. And it still isn’t enough. Now go. I will see you next week.”

He nodded, feeling guilty as hell and trudged toward the door.

Spying a fresh stack of correspondences on his writing desk, which had been delivered by the post in the afternoon, Ronan gathered them and grudgingly plucked through them. Other than the usual bills from France and sparse invitations to dinner parties, there was nothing of interest.

He paused at seeing a letter from Caroline. He recognized her writing. She was the only one he knew who could make his name and address look like artwork. His heart hammered in his ears. Slapping all the other letters back onto the desk, he quickly turned over the letter and broke the wax seal.

Unfolding the parchment, he read:

He swallowed. A part of him felt like he was betraying Caroline.

Not that he had promised himself to her.

Not that he ever would.

Who was he to want her in that way?

Folding the letter, he yanked open the upper top drawer where he had kept all of her letters and shoved it against the pile. His hands stilled as he stared at the countless letters she had written him throughout the years.

He had often wondered why he had kept every single one of her letters, dating back to when she was thirteen. He, who was ten years her senior and who never kept any letters, especially if they had been written by the female hand. But in that moment, he understood
exactly
why he had kept each and every one.

Because Caroline had always meant more to him than he had ever wanted to admit. She was the one who had always listened to his frivolous stories with bright, eager eyes when everyone else told him to shut up. She was the one who had always made him laugh with her ridiculous, yet insightful views on everything. She was the one who had always made him feel as if he were worth everything, even though he was financially ruined and in truth, worth nothing, even as a person.

There had never been anything sexual between him and Caroline. God, no. No, no, no. Not ever. And that was what he cherished most between them. For while he had countless lovers in his life, he had never had a true friend in any of them.

He slammed the drawer shut, making all of her letters disappear from sight and rubbed the back of his neck, digging his fingers into skin. He would write to her later. When his mind wasn’t so muddled and he could figure out what to say to her about what had happened between them in the alcove.

He blew out a breath. Knowing he had to trudge through his financials and figure out how much he had to pay for recent incidentals, he opened the drawer below her letters and paused. His brows came together at seeing the drawer, which usually housed the financials, empty.

“What—” Drawer by drawer, he frantically dug his way past frayed quills, corked glass bottles of black ink which had been repeatedly diluted with water over the past six months, and pieces of wax which had been scraped off from old letters.

He paused when the bottom drawer finally yielded the thick, leather-bound ledger he’d been looking for. There were only three servants in the house and each of them knew his financial situation all too well to take an interest.

His uncle must have moved it.

Had he been looking through his finances again? Damn the man.

Yanking out the heavy book, which bound at least a hundred yellowing parchment pages, he slammed it onto the desk and paged through it, trying to figure out what his uncle had been doing. One of the pages fell open, due to something having been set between them.

He blinked at seeing an unfolded parchment along with a hundred pound bank note tucked into the inner bound pages. He slapped aside the bank note and read the letter it had come with, needing to know where it came from.

Surprisingly it was from…Lady Waverly. Hawksford’s elderly neighbor from just down the street. He wrinkled his nose. Was the wrinkled goose still trying to get her hands on Hawksford? Jesus. Hawksford seriously needed to acknowledge that the old woman’s interest in him these past four years had nothing to do with cribbage.

Angling the letter toward himself, Ronan huffed out a breath and read: