Page 75 of The Duchess in His Bed
Making her way to the stairs, she was grateful he’d caught her after traveling, when she wore black, rather than after a night at the club when she was decked out in blue. In her rooms, she removed her hat, washed her face, tidied her hair, and fortified herself for a social call she had little doubt would turn out to be beyond the pale. He’d already offered his condolences. What more was there for him to say?
She returned downstairs to find him standing at the fireplace, looking down into the empty hearth. Nothing in his stance reminded her of his son. It wasn’t because Elverton wasn’t as fit, that the years had brought a roundness to his shoulders and belly. It was simply that he was not in possession of the magnetic presence that encompassed his by-blow. Aiden quite simply commanded the room, took control of it the moment he strode into it. His father might yield power through his position, but Aiden yielded it through his very existence. He didn’t need a title to mark his place in the world. He’d accomplished it all through his own merit. He was what the earl would never be: his own man.
Strip away Elverton’s title and he would be nothing more than a wisp of smoke with no substance. Aiden was all substance, caring and loyal, andreal. Honest. He didn’t put on airs. She’d always known precisely where she stood with him.
As Elverton turned and gave her a small smile that caused the hair on her arms to rise, she realized she could not say the same of the earl. She didn’t trust the upturn of his lips or the glint in his eyes. She settled into a plush chair near the tea service that had already been brought in and began pouring the dark brew into the delicate china cup that sported small pink roses. The earl dropped onto the nearby settee, which put a comfortable distance between them. She finished preparing his tea, handed it off to him, saw to her own brew, took a sip, and settled back.
The silence stretching out between them wasn’t nearly as comfortable or natural as that between her and Aiden. “I’m fairly certain you didn’t come here for my tea.”
Setting aside his cup, he leaned forward. “I wondered if you’d given our previous conversation any thought.”
Another sip of her tea, a placement of the cup on the saucer so it made not a sound. “Indeed. I’ve given all the condolences I’ve received great thought. They bring me a good deal of comfort in these trying times.”
Something like impatience flashed in his eyes. “I was referring to other matters we discussed.”
“I don’t recall much of a discussion.”
He shifted his backside over the brocade cushion. “You are a young woman with needs. Many needs from what I understand. I have heard Lushing left you a rather modest trust. It will not see you acquiring all you deserve.”
She wondered where he’d gathered that information. Certainly not from Mr. Beckwith. She doubted very much that it had come from Kittridge. Possibly one of her sisters, in innocence, had spouted to a friend and from there it had made the rounds. Or perhaps Winslow had let it slip at one of his clubs when he was in his cups. “I am content with the accommodations my husband made for me.”
“A woman as beautiful as you deserves more than contentment. I want to ensure that as a potential future husband I am not dismissed out of hand.” He scooted up to the edge of his seat. “I would like to take advantage of this time while you are in mourning to forge a friendship—a deep and abiding friendship—with you.”
“I fear, my lord, that I will be too busy seeing that my sisters are properly situated to have time to spend building friendships.”
“I can see them well married.”
Her breath caught, and she froze, the teacup suddenly feeling as though it weighed as much as an elephant. Before it began to rattle in her hand, disclosing her shock at his words, she set it aside. He was not making that offer out of the goodness of his heart. He was doing it in exchange forher. “My lord—”
“It is not an idle boast. I have influence and prestige, which I will put at your disposal. Their mourning period will be at an end shortly after the Season gets underway. I shall see all three married to lords of the highest caliber. This is not a claim your brother can make or see through as he is too young, too green. But my word carries weight. I can start planting the seeds now and we shall see them bloom by Season’s end.”
“That’s quite a generous offer, my lord. I am, however, befuddled regarding why you would care so much about their well-being.”
“It is yours I care about. Once they are situated, once I have proved my devotion to you, once your initial mourning period has ended in a year, we may wed.”
Although a widow went into half mourning after a year, it was not unheard of for her to marry at that time. Still, she was likely to suffer the indignity of being thought promiscuous. Not that the Earl of Elverton cared about that, apparently. “There is still the matter of your present wife, my lord.”
“As I mentioned, she has not been well of late.”
It turned her stomach knowing he was already on the hunt for her replacement. “To be quite honest, Lord Elverton, I find your offer not only grievously vulgar but insulting to your wife as well.” She rose to her feet. “I decline. Please see yourself out.”
With her head held high and her shoulders back, she headed for the door.
“I can see that they have no offers at all.” The low menacing threat stopped her in her tracks.
Slowly she turned and impaled with her eyes this vile blackguard, and she found herself grateful he’d had no part in Aiden’s upbringing. “I fear, my lord, that you have underestimated my influence. While I may no longer have a duke at my side, I am still the Duchess of Lushing and I am fully capable of seeing to the needs of my family. I warn you, sir, that you do not want to incur my wrath.”
With that, she quit the room.
From the moment she’d left Elverton’s presence, she’d debated whether to tell Aiden of his father’s visit, but finally decided against mentioning it, fearing only ill would come of his learning of the earl’s further pursuit of her. Certainly she had made her position clear. She had no interest in the man, would not entertain the notion of having him in her life in any intimate capacity, whether as a mistress or a wife.
It was a challenge to reconcile the odious behavior of the Earl of Elverton against the goodness that was his son. If there was an argument to be made against children born out of wedlock being the carriers of their parents’ immoral behavior, surely Aiden and his father served as the perfect example to exemplify John Locke’s theory that at birth a babe’s mind was a blank slate. Other than the shade of his eyes, his jaw, his brow, Aiden in no way resembled his father. He was all that was good.
Even if he owned a den of iniquity, a den she entered with a great deal of anticipation. After handing her wrap off to the young woman at the front counter, she wandered into the gaming area and spotted Aiden immediately. In spite of there being other gents in the room, he stood out as though he alone occupied the entire space. It wasn’t his height or breadth that gave him an advantage, but his very presence that spoke volumes, reflected a man of both confidence and daring.
He was speaking with a younger man, but as though her appearance carried weight as well, he glanced over, and she could see the slow lift of one corner of his mouth. With a nod, he patted the younger man’s shoulder before beginning to make his way to her, never breaking his stride in spite of acknowledging the ladies here and there, even bending over to whisper something to one of them. Jealousy was a sharp spear, but she deflected it before it could do any damage. She had little doubt he would be whispering a great deal more in her ear later, words far more delicious than what he might have shared with one of his customers.
Then he was before her, threading his fingers through hers, leading her away from the doorway, back into the foyer, and down the darkened, secluded hallway. Not a word spoken. A man on a mission. To claim her, and she couldn’t help but wonder if their coupling would be as perfunctory as what she’d experienced in her marriage. Now that he had thoroughly seduced her, would he see no further need of making her mad with desire?
