"But what happens when she overestimates her capacity for such adventure?" he argued.
"What makes you think she will?" Kit shot back. "I believe that is what troubles her most: her own family does not trust her to know what is best. No one seems to bother to talk to her at all, save to criticize her. How would you like it if your family were to think you nothing but an inconvenience?"
Bainbridge sighed and thrust a hand through his hair, leaving it tousled as though he'd just risen from bed. Kit's blush deepened at the thought.
"What makes you so fond of my great-aunt? Aside from her sense of adventure, that is. Forgive me, Mrs. Mallory, but the difference in your ages does not exactly lend itself to a sharing of common interests."
Kit sidestepped him to stare up at a gilt-edged painting. "She is the closest friend I have ever had."
"What, had you had none before you met her?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Not really. Passing acquaintances, of course, but no bosom bows. My mother died when I was young, and afterward my father and I lived a rather insular existence in Hertfordshire. Several years later, when I made my debut, I discovered that his less-than-sterling reputation had tarnished me, as well; I received few invitations, and fewer offers. When I married George and went to India, the peers there looked down their noses at me because I'd married a Cit, and the Cits' wives did not like me because they believed I held myself above them, and that given the chance I would treat them as rudely as everyone else of my class did."
Kit heard Bainbridge's soft footsteps on the carpet, coming closer.
"What about your family? Did no one welcome you back home?" he murmured.
He sounded like he was standing right behind her. She shivered. "No one, my lord."
"Not even your father?"
"I heard through my husband's solicitor that my father fled the country last year to escape his creditors. He never bothered with me after my marriage, and I have not kept in close contact with anyone else."
His hands gently grasped her shoulders. "I am sorry," he said simply.
"You need not be, my lord. Ever since Her Grace and I befriended each other, I have not been lonely." She eased away from his touch, then turned to face him. "But you must not think me selfish; I do not want to see Her Grace keep her independence just so I am guaranteed companionship. I would never think of her so meanly. I have spoken in her defense because I agree with her, and I want her to be happy."
"So do I, but my cousin can be ruthless when he's crossed, Mrs. Mallory," he stated. "I suspect that he will even withhold the children from her if she does not consent. He may have already threatened to do so."
"Oh, I pray he does not," she murmured. "That will only serve to make everyone miserable, especially Her Grace. You must help me, my lord. Help me convince the duke that he cannot rob his grandmother of her freedom. If she is not allowed to make her own decisions and live her own life, she will wither away to nothing."
"But I also do not want to see my great-aunt throw caution to the wind with these 'round the world escapades of hers. She must start to show some restraint."
He stood so close to her; her eyes were on a level with the sparkling diamond pin in his cravat. But strangely enough, she did not feel threatened. Rather, she found in his solid presence a source of strength. She stared up at him with beseeching eyes. "There must be some sort of middle ground, a compromise that will satisfy both the duke and his grandmother. His Grace will not listen to me, but he will listen to you. Lord Bainbridge, if you care for your aunt's welfare, then I beg you-for her sake-help me."
He regarded her intently for a moment, his dark eyes mere slits. A tic jumped at the corner of his jaw. "I will make you a bargain, then, madam," he replied, his voice rough and throaty. "If I help you to forge a compromise with the duke, then you must agree to become my mistress."
She stared back at him with enormous green eyes. "You cannot be serious."
"I am completely in earnest," he replied. His plan had been to gauge her sincerity and thereby learn more about her, but the more he thought about the premise, the more it excited him. Lord, standing this close and not touching her was sweet torture. All he had to do was reach out and pull her into his arms… He gave himself a swift mental slap. None of that. He needed to focus on acting like a complete and utter scoundrel.
"You are despicable, sir," she breathed, a slight quaver in her voice.
"You knew what I was when you asked for my help," he pointed out.
Her agitated gaze flicked wildly around the room. "Why?" she demanded. "Why would you put such a condition on something so important?"
Bainbridge shrugged. "Your idea has merit, but you will need my help. And my help comes at a price." Now he would see if she wanted what was best for the dowager, or if she had other motives.
Trembling, she retreated until she bumped into the wall. "How could you do this to me? To your aunt?"
The evident pain on her face gave him a twinge. "Do you find the idea of being my mistress so reprehensible?"
She swallowed. "I value my freedom, my lord, and my dignity. I am not a… a thing, to be used and discarded at your whim."
"I never said you were. This relationship would be mutually rewarding, Mrs. Mallory-Kit." A smile quirked the corner of his mouth. "How did you come by that pet name? I find it delightful."
"My mother," she said. "My given is Katherine, and when I was a little girl, I would curl up next to her on the sofa when she sewed, just like a kitten." Her gaze metamorphosed from frightened to wary. "Do not try to distract me, my lord. It won't work."
He resisted the impulse to chuckle. Time to up the ante. "Just so. Then as I was saying, such a relationship would be gratifying for both of us. You would still have your freedom; this agreement would simply allow us to enjoy each other's company, physically as well as intellectually. I can use my influence to open doors for you, to further your own interests."
Her nostrils flared. "What about my self-respect?"
"What about pleasure?" he countered in low, rippling tones.
She responded with another shiver.
He pressed his advantage. "Why do you continue to deny that you are a sensual creature? Pleasure itself is not wrong, nor is it wrong to want it."
"It is outside of marriage." She wrapped her arms around herself.
"And is marriage any guarantee? Did your husband know how to satisfy you, Kit? When he rose from your bed, did he leave you still aching for his touch?"
"Stop it," she moaned.
"Did he worship your body with his? Treat you as a cherished lover?"
"Stop! Please." She closed her eyes, and her breath came in shallow gasps.
He edged toward her. "I am merely trying to open your eyes to the possibilities that life has to offer."
Her eyes flew open. "Possibilities? How can you say that when physical gratification is all you want?"
He allowed himself a sardonic smile. "What else is there?"
"Your view of the world is rather limited, my lord. What about love? Or has such a concept never entered the scope of your philosophy?"
He raised an eyebrow at her. "I fail to see why we need to complicate things unnecessarily."
"Then you have never been in love?"
"I never said that." He shifted uncomfortably in his top boots. "But love tends to make matters worse between a man and a woman. People who fall in love almost invariably end up hating one another. Why bring such emotional rubbish into what is otherwise an amicable arrangement?"
"Have your mistresses never fallen in love with you?"
"Some have."
"Then they must be the owners of the broken hearts Her Grace mentioned."
"Perhaps, but most of them knew better, as I hope you will. Kit, what I'm offering is not wicked or immoral, and not as prison-like as marriage."
"Not immoral?" she echoed, clearly outraged. "How can you say that? You flit from one woman to the next without care or cause!"