“If I chose somebody else,” Jordan explained, “it wouldn’t make a bit of difference. I need an heiress, and these rich girls are all the same. They’re convinced they’re special because of their fortunes, so they put on airs they don’t deserve. One is as bad as the next.”
“I’ve never thought a woman should have her own money. It throws the world out of balance.”
“But if they were all poor, why would we marry any of them?”
“Why, indeed?”
They both chuckled.
“What will you do with her after the wedding?” Paxton asked.
“I haven’t decided.”
“You won’t let her live in Town, will you?” Paxton was aghast at the prospect.
“I might—if she doesn’t pester me too much.”
“What if she objects to Lauretta and the others?”
“My relationship with Lauretta isn’t any of her business.”
“You might think so now,” Paxton counseled, “but I’m told that after the ceremony, wives tend to develop the most absurd notions about fidelity.”
“Her opinion will never matter. It’s ludicrous to presume that she could have any influence over me.”
“She might disagree. She might imagine that her wedding ring gives her the right to complain.”
“She
would be wrong.”
Paxton sighed, as if he felt sorry for Jordan. “I don’t know why you refused that girl your father picked for you. She’s a duke’s daughter.”
“You know why.”
“To aggravate him as much as possible?”
“Yes.”
Jordan’s feud with his father was long-standing and bitter. In Lord Sunderland’s eyes, Jordan had never been good enough. Despite what he did, despite how hard he tried, he always came up lacking.
His older brother, James, had been the perfect, adored son, but James had drowned in a boating accident when Jordan was ten. Suddenly, Jordan had found himself to be the heir, a position he’d never anticipated or wanted.
Jordan had been in the boat with his brother, and Sunderland blamed Jordan for James’s death. Jordan had fought to save James, but there was no persuading their father. Once, shortly after the tragedy, Jordan had heard Sunderland asking a friend if Jordan might have murdered James!
Why was Jordan the one who survived?
Sunderland had moaned.
Looking back from an adult perspective, Jordan understood that Sunderland had been crushed with grief. He probably hadn’t meant what he’d said, but his cruel words still stung, and they colored all of Jordan’s subsequent interactions with his father.
They bickered constantly, usually over finances.
Jordan actually owned a house and property north of London. It had been James’s, so Jordan inherited it when James died. As Jordan had been a minor child, Sunderland had managed the estate for him, but Sunderland had bankrupted it with his inattention. The house was a dilapidated ruin, the fields lying fallow.
In his more morose moments, Jordan wished he could flee to the rural haven, but the place wasn’t livable, and he’d never had the resources to make necessary repairs. Nor would Sunderland refurbish what he’d wrecked. He contended that renovation was a waste of expense because Jordan would bungle his ownership through sloth.
Until his father passed on, Jordan didn’t have a single farthing to call his own, and Sunderland used his fiscal advantage to extort all sorts of concessions.
When he’d shown up with a signed marriage contract, the bride already selected and a demand that Jordan wed her immediately, Jordan had had enough. He’d tossed the document in Sunderland’s face, which had promptly caused the man to cut off all funds.
But Jordan would win in the end. He’d snagged his heiress, and soon, he’d have all her pretty money in his bank account. For the rest of his life, he’d never have to worry about his finances again.
In the process, he’d bind himself to a merchant’s daughter—a fact likely to send Sunderland to an early grave.
He went to the window and glanced off across the park, admiring the vibrant hues of the forest, when he noticed Mary returning from a walk.
Instantly, he wondered if she’d been off trying to kiss the buffoon who resided on the adjacent property. At the notion that she might have been, he was extremely irritated.
Was he jealous? Why would he be?
He couldn’t figure it out. She claimed she’d drunk a tonic that had stirred his heightened regard, and maybe she had. There was no rational reason for his fascination, so why not accept a supernatural one?
Paxton came over to stare out the window, too, and he saw Mary just as she slipped in the rear door.
“She’s an interesting baggage, isn’t she?” Paxton said.
“Very,” Jordan mused. “I feel sorry for her.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“Gad! Lauretta insisted you were ill. Are you?”
“No.”
He had no business dabbling with Mary Barnes—only disaster could result—but his conduct seemed unavoidable, like a bad carriage accident. In a life where he’d had very little joy, she made him laugh, and he was determined to spend more private time with her.
“Have you seduced her?” Paxton asked.
“Not yet.”
“But you will?”
Jordan shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“Is that wise?”
“Beneath the plain clothes and stern hairstyle, she has the most amazing, erotic allure.”
“But to ruin her? That’s a tad cold—even for you.” Paxton frowned. “If you proceed, and your affair is uncovered, what will become of her? Victoria would throw her out. With you about to wed Felicity, she’d hardly have any other option.”
“No, she wouldn’t,” Jordan agreed.
“So you’d forge ahead anyway?”
“I’m debating.”
Paxton looked as if he’d continue his admonishment, but he stopped.
“I was about to scold you,” he admitted, shocked.
“How odd.”
“Wasn’t it, though? I don’t know what came over me.”
“Maybe you should dabble a bit yourself,” Jordan advised. “It will help to pass the time. Have you found any intriguing housemaids?”
“No.”
“You can use Lauretta if you’d like. I don’t care.”
“Actually,
she offered herself just the other night.”
“She must have wanted something from you. What was it?”
“She’s terrified that you’re about to toss her over. She begged me to probe your
feelings.”
Jordan snorted. “I have no feelings.”
“That’s what I told her.”
“Did you sleep with her?”
“I’d rather copulate with a scorpion.” Paxton shuddered. “Besides, I’ve set my eye on someone else.”
“Who?”
“Mrs. Stewart.”
“Cassandra, the purportedly frigid widow?”
“I don’t think she’s quite as frosty as she’s made out to be.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Jordan lifted his brandy in a toast. “May we both succeed in our amorous endeavors.”
“May we both get precisely what we deserve,” Paxton retorted.
“If we do, we’re in a lot of trouble.”
Jordan walked to the door that led to the hall and away from the parlor where the ladies awaited him.
“Where are you going?” Paxton inquired.
“I’ve suddenly remembered a previous engagement.”
“Mary Barnes?”
Jordan grinned, but didn’t reply. A few hours with Mary would be much more amusing than listening to Felicity drone on and on.
“Make my apologies, will you?”
He left quickly, not giving Paxton the chance to dissuade him.
In a matter of seconds, he was climbing the stairs in the far section of the manor, headed for Mary’s small, isolated bedchamber.
“HELLO, Mary,” Jordan said, chuckling at how he startled her.
He slipped inside, shut and locked the door. She was sitting on her bed, wearing her nightgown and robe, her hair down and brushed out. A tray of bread and cheese was balanced on her lap.
“Why are you here again?” she asked.
“I missed you at supper.”
“You did not.”
“I did. Why are you eating bread and cheese? Didn’t the cook save you any hot food?”
“I like bread and cheese. I don’t need a fancy meal.”
He wondered if Victoria had her on reduced rations, like a convict or a slave, but he wouldn’t embarrass her by prying. Nor could he bear to know too many details about her relationship with Victoria.
It was obvious that Victoria abused Mary, and any confirmation of the fact would simply make him feel more compassion for her, when he was already becoming bound to her in ways he didn’t like.
“I thought I’d better check on you,” he said.
“I’m fine. You can leave now.”
He came over and sat next to her. She scowled, but didn’t move away, which he regarded as enormous progress. He shifted closer, their arms and thighs touching, and strangely, his body seemed to rejoice at the intimate placement. He forced himself not to heed the sensation, not to revel in it.
“You were out in the woods,” he stated.
“Were you following me again?”
“No, but I probably should be. You can’t be sneaking out and kissing that ... that ... oaf. You didn’t try, did you?”
“His name is Harold, and no, I didn’t.”
Harold! Even his name was tedious.
“Good, because I’m rather vain about my amatory skills, and I’ve given you sufficient instruction for you to realize that your
Harold
is a lost cause.”
“Is there some reason you assume I’m any of your business?”
He was unable to let the matter drop. “What do you see in him anyway?”
“If you must know, he and I are betrothed.”
“Betrothed!” He laughed. “You are not.”
“We are, and don’t you dare tell anyone.”
“So it’s a grand secret, is it?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t he concerned about your penury?”
“No. He’s not as greedy as some people I could mention.” She glowered, making it clear that she was referring to him. “He’ll wed without a fortune being thrown at him.”
“How decent of him.”
“He doesn’t need any money from me. He’s set to inherit his mother’s house and income when she dies.”
“How long have you been waiting for the old girl to go?”
A muscle ticked in her cheek, but she didn’t answer, which told him it had been years.
Poor thing! Dithering away, with her hopes pinned on a boor who would never do as he’d promised!
The information tugged at his heartstrings, and he couldn’t abide it. He didn’t want to care about her!
“Would you like some wine?” she asked as she scooted away and stood.
“Why not?” He’d had plenty of liquor, but he never turned down the offer of more.
Oddly, instead of pouring some from a bottle, she retrieved a leather flask from a dresser drawer. There was an empty glass on her supper tray, and she squeezed the wine into it.
He took a sip, found it to be cheap and sour, and he tried to give it back.
“I’ll usually drink anything,” he said, “but this is putrid. Thank you, but I believe I’ll pass.”
“It’s all I have.”
“Better left alone, then.”
“Take another sip. You’ll grow accustomed to the taste.”
He obliged her, not finding the second attempt any easier than the first, but it seemed important to her so he held his breath and downed the contents.
“Are you happy now?” he teased when he’d finished.
“Yes, very happy.”
“I bet you’re surprised to learn that I can be so obedient.”
She snorted. “You only drank it because you felt like it. I couldn’t make you do something if you didn’t truly want to.”
“You know me well.”
She dawdled in front of him, studying his eyes, and after a few moments, she said, “Are you feeling any different?”
“Should I be?”
“No. I was just curious.”
“Have you poisoned me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
She didn’t look all that sure, which was unnerving, but he hadn’t yet engaged in conduct that might goad her to homicide. In the past, he’d driven various women to incredible frenzies of dislike, so he recognized the signs.
She wasn’t anywhere close.
He reached out and clasped her wrist.
“I want to kiss you again.”
“You do? You
still
want to?”
“Yes. Let’s lie down.”
He flopped onto the mattress and pulled her down with him, and she came more willingly than he might have predicted.
He grinned.
“Do you know what I think?” he asked.
“What?”
“I think you like me a bit more than you care to admit.”
“And I think that
you
like me a tad more than you should.”
“It’s entirely possible,” he conceded.
At the prospect, she appeared miserable, and he was very annoyed. Didn’t she comprehend that females all over the kingdom would give their right arms to be in her shoes?
She ought to be smiling! She ought to be glad!
“Don’t look so morose,” he complained.
“How should I look?”
“Ecstatic! Delighted!”
“Why should I be?”
“Because you have
me
in your bed.”
She chuckled, then sighed. “You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?”
“No. I’ll be here for a whole month. Would you have me die of boredom?”
“We wouldn’t want that, would we?”
“No,
we
wouldn’t. I demand that you entertain me whenever you have the opportunity.”
She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. “We’re courting disaster. What if Victoria catches you? Or Felicity? I’d be in so much trouble.”
“I’d protect you,” he lied.
During his amorous pursuits, he wasn’t in the habit of practicing veracity, and he saw no reason to start.