Page 68 of The Rakehell of Roth
Clarissa screamed and launched across the garden bench, almost crushing her in the process. “Squeeze me sideways, Lady Darcy would be so proud.”
Her blush deepened. “Trust me, this isallLady Darcy’s fault.”
Isobel had nearly combusted recounting the events of the evening when she’d been awoken by a hurricane in skirts at the crack of dawn. Well, more around midday—later than usual for her—but she’d had an exhausting evening.
Even now, her body was still deliciously achy. Isobel’s cheeks heated as she recalled how brazen she’d been. The power that had come with the interaction had been heady, though she was certain that Winter had let her do those things. He could have taken control quite easily at any point. In point of fact, hehadduring the act itself.
And the blindfold, dear God, theblindfold! What had she been thinking? Winter had loved it, obviously, and she had as well. However, though he’d been caught up in his pleasure, he’d still had the presence of mind to pull from her body at the last minute. In hindsight, Isobel had never intended to trick Winter in such a manner, but the perfunctory act had still stung.
She wasn’t some doxy. She was hiswife.
But if he didn’t want children, withdrawal was necessary.
Isobel hadn’t told Clarissa about that part. Or about the blindfold.
Thankfully, Clarissa had been too fascinated by the whole charity auction and the outrageously darker side of The Silver Scythe to push for the finer details. Isobel wasn’t fooled, however. Clarissa would hound her for those later when she’d processed the rest. Perhaps Isobel would be able to fend her off with a convincing enough story, if she ever stopped blushing.
“So, the proceeds from this filthy man mart from a club that your husbandownsdo go to a charity?” Clarissa asked.
“A shelter house as I understand it,” Isobel replied, biting back a grin. “In Seven Dials.”
“That’s generous. I suppose it doesn’t matter where the funds come from.” She frowned. “Wait, Seven Dials? That’s…a coincidence.”
“What is?”
Clarissa shook her head, wrinkling her nose. “No, it’s nothing. Never mind, I’m grasping for connections that don’t exist.” She grinned. “Tell me more about Vittorina the Vainglorious. Did she look like she swallowed a toad when you outbid her?”
“An entire bucket of toads,” Isobel said. “And then she tried to imply that Winter wasn’t into women.”
Her grin widened. “Joke’s on her because Winter is definitely into petticoat lane, also known as the temple of Venus, the fancy article, and nature’s tufted treasure.”
“Clarissa!” Isobel hissed, once more glancing around, and then decided to give her friend a solid dose of her own medicine in retaliation. “Enough about me. How was teatime last night?”
She was rewarded when Clarissa went a brilliant shade of red. “Fine,” she mumbled.
It was Isobel’s turn to grin. “Funny, I thought you were such a tea enthusiast. Don’t want to kiss-and-tell, Clarissa dear?” When her skin color deepened to plum, Isobel pounced. “Good heavens, wench, what did youdo?”
“He was asleep, so I had a peek,” she rushed out.
Isobel gave a choked laugh. “And?”
“Suffice it to say that, ahem, it’s true that curiosity silenced the cat. He’s…not small.”
“Must run in the family,” Isobel said, and they both burst into uncontrollable giggles, drawing the attention of the gardener who had returned and was busy pruning a nearby tree. They watched him in silence, enjoying the warm afternoon air, until he moved on out of sight.
“So, what will you do?” Clarissa asked. “With Winter, I mean? Now that you’ve won your little wager and shown him who’s queen of the castle.”
She frowned. “Nothing. What happened between us doesn’t change anything.”
Clarissa’s eyes brightened. “Oh, trust me, it will. Men don’t like to lose. He’ll come crawling to you on his own, and maybe give you some babies while he’s at it.”
Isobel’s heart squeezed and a knot formed in her throat, but she kept her face calm. Little did Clarissa suspect that her husband would geld himself before doing that. She wrapped her arms about her middle. She hadn’t been open with Clarissa about Winter’s strong opinions on the matter, because it wasn’t her place to divulge his private feelings, but his hard refusal of both being a husband and a father reduced the outcome of the game to something trivial. Bringing a man to his knees meant nothing if all she got out of it was a lonely future. Deep down, she wantedmore. She wanted Winter…and a future with him.
Maybe sheshouldcut her losses and go back to Chelmsford. She’d been such a fool, too focused on winning that she hadn’t thought of what would happen if she actually won. Now, because she’d acted so impetuously, her reward was the same as her punishment.
“We should call on him today,” Clarissa suggested, nodding hard. “That’s what Lady Darcy would do. She wouldn’t wait for him to start thinking, because Lord knows when men start using any part of their brain, things go belly up. She would take that bull by the horns and ride it into the sunset.”
Isobel gave a choked laugh. “Lady Darcy has caused quite enough trouble.”
