Page 14 of Passions of a Wicked Earl
“I’ve never relished it,” Claire admitted. “I know the ladies are not pleased that my husband has such free rein.”
“What do you intend to do about it?”
“I’m not quite certain. But I know I must earn their good graces. My sister is having her coming out, and I wish to help her as much as possible. I fear I’m not quite as schooled in the fine art of the Season, never having had one myself.” She’d married the spring before she would have had a Season. Surely, in retrospect, no harm would have come from waiting a year or even six months. But her father had not seen that anything was to be gained by granting her a reprieve. In truth, she suspected he feared she might begin to have reservations about her lot in life if given too much time to contemplate it, if she had an opportunity to experience a modicum of choice, even if the choice was simply deciding with which gentleman to dance. “I thought perhaps you could advise me, Your Grace.”
“Avoid it, at all costs.”
Not exactly the advice she’d anticipated. “Surely you jest?”
“I find the Season to be a bit of a bother.”
“I fear I have no choice in the matter. You see, if my sister doesn’t find another suitor, she’ll be forced to marry Lord Hester.”
The duchess visibly shuddered. “Good Lord, I always want to take pruning shears to his nostrils when he’s about.”
Claire released a small laugh and covered her smile with a gloved hand.
For the first time since she’d walked into the room, the duchess seemed to soften toward her. “I’d hoped you’d laugh like that around my son, around Westcliffe. He’s had little enough laughter in his life.”
Claire immediately sobered. “We had a dreadful beginning. I was terrified of my wedding night. Stephen meant well—”
“By taking his brother’s place in your bed? Stephen has always been mischievous, but that was beyond the pale. I must share some of the blame. I spoiled him, led him to believe that he should be denied nothing.”
“It wasn’t like that between us. Truly. We’d both had too much champagne. It seemed like such a brilliant idea in our muddled minds—just a way to delay my wedding night.”
“Being honest with Westcliffe would have probably gained you more.”
In retrospect, she had to agree. “I didn’t know him very well. I still don’t.” She eased up on the edge of her seat. “Duchess, I would very much like to make amends with him.”
“Then do so, girl.”
“I hardly know where to begin. And as much as I’d like to know him better, it seems he’s done with me. I think he merely plans to tolerate my presence.”
“Then you’ll have to use your womanly wiles to change his mind.”
“I fear I have none.”
“My dear girl, every woman possesses them. She simply needs to recognize the ability within herself. Men are very simple creatures really. They desire women. You simply must make yourself desirable.”
Claire refused to let her confidence diminish with the comment. She thought she looked quite smart in her dress.
“Don’t look so offended, girl.”
“I’m not.”
“Your face would say otherwise. You look lovely. Truly. But a man doesn’t desire lovely. He desires daring. You must tease him, make him wonder how much of heaven he’ll find beneath that skirt.”
She didn’t know if she could do it, but still she nodded, hoping the conversation would move on to another topic, before the heat of embarrassment caused her to burst into flames. She’d never spoken about intimate matters so candidly with another woman. It was unsettling simply because it was so intriguing. “There is still the matter of my sister.”
“Ah, yes, the reason for your visit. I shan’t make morning calls with you as I find them tedious, and as most gossip concerns me, it limits conversation. I shall, however, send word hither and yon that Ainsley will only consider invitations to balls to which you are invited.”
“Does he attend balls? Is he searching for a wife?” It occurred to her that if that was the case, he might consider Beth.
“Good God, no,” the duchess said. “I won’t say he’ll attend, only that he’ll consider them. He’s one-and-twenty. Still sowing his wild oats. I’m fairly certain marriage is the very last thing on his mind. Which is to our advantage, as it allows me to concentrate on yours.”
“Mine?”
“It’s time Westcliffe was settled, and after watching your face turn as red as an apple, I can see you need some help with the matter.”
