Page 56 of The Duke of Seduction
“Explain.”
“Your father approached me at Brooks’s last night. He informed me that I am to court you, or he’ll expose me as the Duke of Seduction.” He looked down at her, and she detected anger in his gaze. “What I can’t understand is how he found that out.” His tone held an accusatory edge.
She stopped again, and this time, he let her remove her hand from his arm. Turning to face him, she touched her chest, irritated he would doubt her loyalty. “Ididn’t tell them.”
“It had to be you. The only other person who knows is my butler.”
His butler? Just her and his butler? That knowledge prompted a slight flutter in her belly. Followed by a sharp queasiness. “Your butler wouldn’t have told them.”
His gaze didn’t move from hers. “No.”
“I swear I didn’t tell anyone—not even Sarah.” Though she’d wanted to, and if they hadn’t been interrupted today, she might have. She’d been that annoyed with him. “I only—” She clapped her hand over her mouth as her eyes widened. “My diary. I wrote about it in my diary.” She sent a livid glance toward the house. “She reads my bloody diary?”
“Apparently.”
She looked at him in abject apology. “I amsosorry.”
“Not as sorry as me. Now they are using this information for extortion—I am to court you, or they’ll expose me.”
“They asked you to marry me?” Oh God, this was too awful. She knew they wanted her wed, but to resort to such despicable tactics was unconscionable.
“No. They believe my courtship will prompt others to come forward. They are rather impatient to see you betrothed.”
The sick feeling in her gut increased. She glanced toward the house again and squinted. Her mother was standing inside the door, watching them. Lavinia spun about and took his arm once more, pulling him farther from the house to the opposite corner of the garden.
“They’re horrid.” It was all she could manage to say right now. Her parents would see her wed at any cost. Given their haste—and apparent desperation—Lavinia was afraid they’d betroth her to nearly anyone. She needed to accept the inevitable: she was going to wed this Season, and if she wanted a husband of her own choice, she’d best find one.
“I wish there was something I could say to ease your distress,” he said softly.
She appreciated that, but the period for emotional reactions was over. It was time to act. “You were going to help me find a husband. That is more important than ever since I seem to be running out of time.”
“What about Horace?”
She paused again and narrowed her eyes at him. “The same Mr. Jeffries who went to a brothel with you? Be honest with me—is he a rake like you?” She wouldn’t have guessed it based on their introduction, but what did she know about him really?
Beck gestured toward the bench that sat in the corner of the garden just a few feet away. “May we sit?”
Wordlessly, Lavinia withdrew her arm from his and went to perch on the bench. He sat down beside her—not too close—and stretched one leg out as he angled himself toward her.
“Horace does like women, though I’m not sure I’d classify him a rake. Honestly, I’m not sure I’d classify myself a rake anymore either. Yes, I went to Madame Bisset’s with Horace and Felix. I played chess.”
Lavinia blinked at him in confusion. “You can play chess there?”
His mouth cracked in a brief smile. “Or cards or backgammon or any number of things. The women there provide whatever entertainment a man desires—and it needn’t be, er, sexual.” He averted his gaze from hers as he spoke the last.
The implications of what he was saying only made her more curious. “Were you even a rake at all?”
He looked at her then and promptly burst out laughing. Whether it was due to the absurdity of the question or the tumult of emotions she’d gone through in the past quarter hour, she joined him. It was a long moment before they quieted, and she could only imagine how this looked to her mother. If she could even see them. There was a well-placed shrubbery that afforded a measure of privacy for their location.
“Without going into specifics, I’ve behaved in plenty of rakish ways. However, I am not seeing Lady Fairwell any longer—much to her dismay—and sometimes I prefer a game of chess to something…else.”
The memory of his lips on hers stole over her, and she couldn’t imagine preferring chess to that sensation. She was, however, pleased to hear that he wasn’t entertaining Lady Fairwell any longer and that he hadn’t gone to Madame Bisset’s for the typical reason. Which was silly because he wasn’t a potential husband. He wasn’treallycourting her. Or so he’d said.
Did she want him to?
She turned toward him slightly. “Just so I understand, you are not courting me with the intent to marry. You are courting me to provoke others to launch a courtship.”
“That is what your parents want, yes.”
