Page 25 of Tempting the Viscount
Cranston frowned. “There was no name attached.”
Hargrove shook his head. “Of course not. Making a bet about Clarington’s sister is social suicide.”
“Especially one that would tempt every ne’er-do-well to proposition his sister.” Cranston shook his head. “Whoever it was, he’d better hope Clarington never learns his identity.”
“We have to remove that bet.” He tried not to think about how many men would force themselves on Lucy just so they could gain bragging rights. “The jackals are already circling her.”
“Of course they are,” Cranston said. “Even without that bet, she’s highly desirable. Young, beautiful, supposedly barren. Add to that the fact she’s the sister of a powerful duke?”
Holbrook tensed, ready to leap to his feet.
Cranston stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Easy, man. If you take any rash action, it will only cause more gossip.”
Holbrook wanted to ignore the baron and demand the betting book be brought to him immediately. Then he wanted to compare the handwriting of the man who’d placed that bet against every member of the club.
What he did instead was will himself to relax. A quick glance told him they were beginning to attract attention, and Lucy was already at the center of far too much speculation.
Hargrove’s eyes had a knowing glint in them. “Remember that prodding you gave me concerning Eleanor?”
Of course he did. Hargrove had been so turned around that he’d almost thrown away his chance at love.
“Unlike you, I’m actually courting the woman I love.”
Cranston let out a low whistle, which Holbrook ignored.
“Then what are you waiting for?” Hargrove asked.
What indeed. “I’m trying to behave with honor.”
Cranston shook his head. “Fuck honor. This is war. If you don’t go on the offensive, you just might find yourself on the losing side.”
Since the baron had spent years serving in the army, Holbrook wasn’t surprised by his choice of analogy. Cranston was correct, but that didn’t mean Holbrook had to like it. Even without that damned bet, every man—both scrupulous and not—would want Lucy. And since she hadn’t fallen pregnant while married to Mansfield, most wouldn’t even consider marrying her.
What exactly was he waiting for? What if Lucy tired of his courtship and approached someone else about having an affair? He almost snorted at the thought. She wouldn’t even need to ask. All she’d have to do was send another man an encouraging glance and they would leap at the chance to be with her.
A spear of white-hot jealousy threatened to steal his breath. No. Lucy was his.
He rose to his feet.
“What are you going to do?” Hargrove asked.
“I’m going to give the lady in question what she wants.”
The gloves were off. It was time to end the dance in which they’d been engaging for the past month. He was going to give Lucy Mansfield the pleasure she wanted from him.
She’d insisted she didn’t want to marry again, and like a stubborn fool he’d been hoping she’d change her mind. But his stubbornness—his insistence on doing the honorable thing—might cause her to turn to another man.
Hell would freeze over before he allowed that to happen.
He was going to show Lucy that the attraction they both felt went far beyond mere lust. That their souls were bound together. And if he could only achieve that by ensuring she was addicted to his touch, so be it.
He was grinning when he left White’s and climbed into his carriage.
Chapter 14
Lucy’s days had fallen into a comfortable pattern since the start of the season, and that was just how she enjoyed things. Her late husband had hated that about her, but she’d never been spontaneous and didn’t enjoy making plans at the last minute.
Even during the hustle and bustle of the season with its heavy burden of social demands, Lucy knew what to expect every day. She broke her fast each morning with her brother, Charlotte, and her nieces and nephews. Afterward, the children would go up to the schoolroom for their lessons and Alex would be busy with the numerous demands placed on someone of his standing.
