Page 22 of A Rogue's Downfall
She thought for a moment. Yes, that was it exactly. Alas. “Yes,” she said.
“And you would not like to be bedded by me, Miss Astor?”
Yes, she had been right to describe his eyes secretly to herself as slumbrous, Caroline thought. They wereexactly that and his voice low and seductive. And thenthe meaning of his words echoed in her ears.
“No,” she said. “When I marry, my lord, I want to know that I am everything to my husband. I want toknow that I am the only woman in his life and alwayswill be.”
“If you—and your maid—had awoken just a few minutes later last night,” he said, “you might have been singing a different tune this morning. The bedding process had barely begun and yet your body was responding with pleasure. There was a great deal moreto come. A very great deal.”
“Do you mean,” she said, beginning to feel indignant, “that I would have been begging for more this morning?Begging even for marriage so that the pleasure could berepeated?”
“I could make you fall hopelessly in love with me in no time at all,” he said, reaching out one long fingerand carelessly flicking her cheek with it.
“Poppycock!” she said, now so thoroughly angry that she totally forgot that shewasin love with him already.
“I would wager my fortune on it,” he said. “One day is all I would need.”
She drew breath audibly. “The assumption being,” she said, “that there is everything to fall in love within you and nothing in me.Iwould fall in love withyouin the course of a day, but you, of course, would remainquite immune to my charms. You are a conceited, a-aconceited—”
“Ass?” he suggested, raising his eyebrows.
“Fop, sir,” she finished with a flourish. She was glad all this had happened. Oh, she was glad. The scaleshad fallen from her eyes and she could see him at lastfor what he was—not so much a charming rake as aconceited ass. She wished she had had the courage tosay the word aloud.
“Well,” he said, “perhaps we should make a formal wager, Miss Astor, since we seem not about to make aformal betrothal after all. Twenty-four hours. At theend of it if I have fallen in love with you I lose mywager of—shall we say fifty pounds? If you have fallenin love with me, you lose yours. If we both win orboth lose, then we end up even. Agreed?” He stretchedout an imperious right hand toward her.
“Either one of us would be foolish to admit to having fallen,” she said, “when it would mean the loss of fiftypounds and the ridicule or pity of the other.”
“Ah, but we must trust to each other’s honor and honesty,” he said. “Do we have an agreement, MissAstor? It will mean spending the rest of today and tomorrow morning together, of course. As for tonight,we can discuss that later.”
“What utter nonsense,” she said, staring down at his hand and remembering the strangely pleasurable painshe had felt when two of his fingers had squeezed hernipple. “I have no wish to spend any more time withyou, my lord, and as for this wager you suggest, it isstupid. What if one of us does fall in love with theother? What if we both do? Nothing will have changed.It is just stupid.”
“In the clubs of London, Miss Astor,” he said, “it is considered the mark of the most abject cowardice torefuse a wager. A man can easily lose his honor bydoing so.”
“I am not a man,” she said.
“I had noticed.”
Again the seductive voice. She did not look up to observe his eyes. She slapped her hand down onto his.
“This is stupid,” she said.
“I take it you are accepting the wager?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said as his hand closed about hers. “But it is stupid.” She looked up to find him grinning downat her. His teeth were very white and even. His eyescrinkled at the comers when he smiled and those lovelyblue eyes danced with merriment. Round one to Viscount Lyndon, she thought as her knees turned to jelly.But of course she no longer loved him. She despised him.
“This,” he said, raising her hand to his lips again, “is going to be a pleasure, ma’am—Caroline. The beachfor a walk after luncheon?”
What he should do, Viscount Lyndon thought as he changed after luncheon for a walk on the beach, wassummon his carriage and have his coachman drive himdirectly to London and deposit him at the doors ofBethlehem Hospital. He should have himself fitted intoa straitjacket. He was clearly mad.
He had had his ticket to freedom again. The woman had refused him though he had made his offer with noattempt whatsoever to repel her. He had even behavedwith strict honor by trying to insist when she had firstrejected him. He had tried to make her see that she hadno choice but to marry him. Still she had refused.
It should have been like a dream come true. He should have left her at a run and not stopped until therewere a few hundred miles between them. He shouldhave shouted with joy as soon as he was out of earshot.He had been free again, free of a leg-shackle and freeof obligation, his honor intact.
Instead of which ... He scowled at his image in the looking glass and decided against wearing a hat. Itwould probably blow into the sea anyway on such abreezy day. Instead of which he had taken her refusalas a personal affront and had demanded to know thereason why. And as soon as he had discovered the reason—her aversion to marrying a rake—all his old instincts had come into play. His very self-respect hadmade him incapable of letting her go unconquered.
Poppycock,she had said when he had told her—quite truthfully but with rash stupidity—that he could makeher fall hopelessly in love with him in a day. And sohe had set about doing just that. It would be easy, ofcourse. He would not even need the full twenty-fourhours. But what was his purpose? If she fell in lovewith him, she would marry him after all.
What he should do was spend the rest of the day making sure she came to dislike him more than she didalready. That after all had been his original plan, whenhe had assumed that she would betroth herself to himwithout protest. But now, of course, he was facing thechallenge of a wager. And he had never in his life beenable to resist a wager.
