“But of course we must become properly acquainted,” she agreed, pulling her thoughts back to the conversation at hand. Nervously, she ran the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip.
Lord Creswell tracked the movement with a searing gaze. Abruptly, he cleared his throat and shot a glance at the clock on the fireplace mantel.
“I have taken up enough of your morning. I will call on the morrow. Good day, Miss Smith.”
“Good day, Lord Creswell,” she said, her voice hardly loud enough to be heard.
With that, he gave a nod and went on his way.
This didn’t precisely put her in the clear. Elizabeth was well aware of that. There was another hurdle yet to clear. And to dull the impact the truth of their past connection would have—a connection she now resented for it stood in the way of her future happiness—she knew she had to get him to care for her.
Quite literally, she would have to wage a war of seduction. But not seduction in its most commonly used context. Although it would be far easier to get him into her bed but that wouldn’t be enough to sustain of happy marriage. At least not ‘til death do they part. No, she’d seduce him without the use of her body and at the same time capture his heart.
Chapter Five
By midmorning the next day, unseasonably cold temperatures had Londoners dragging out wool pelisses and heavy greatcoats. That the air remained dry was the day’s one saving grace.
Derek observed Miss Smith from across his barouche. She looked good. Better than good if one admired silky skin, red lips that begged to be kissed and a figure that curved in and out in all the right places. He resented her; resented that a wave of lust had all but assaulted him when he’d arrived at Laurel House to collect her for their morning drive. And had yet to abate.
He could detect no yield to her spine as she sat, hands clasped tightly on her lap buried in the voluminous folds of her peach and gray skirts. She’d looked at him once, very briefly, then proceeded to focus all her attention on trying not to look at him. She was currently studying the interior with greater a scrutiny than he’d given it upon its purchase.
Derek tapped the roof twice. The carriage immediately jolted into motion.
She looked at him then, eyes wide as if startled that they were moving as conveyances often do.
“You are well?” he asked courteously.
Her mouth curved in a strained smile. “I suppose I am well given the circumstances.”
Her chin quivered the barest little bit. Fright? Nerves? Perhaps a bit of both. Her hands had not been still since she’d taken her seat.
Lord above, he didn’t want to incite fear in her. He wanted—wanted his life back to the way it was before he’d kissed her. But he wanted the memory of the kiss. He wanted to kiss her again. Hell, he wanted to do a sight more than that. But he couldn’t have both.
“And you?”
Derek wondered if she really cared or was simply being polite. He wondered how she’d react if he told her precisely where his thoughts lay. He decided to ignore her question altogether and asked instead, “Miss Smith, I imagine that if I was able to arrange things so that you could retain your reputation without us being forced to wed, you would be relieved?”
Her answer should have been an instantaneous, But of course, my lord. But that was not how she reacted. Her shoulders jumped and her eyes were now two enormous orbs in her sweet oval face.
She recovered quickly but had it been from shock or something else? Disappointment? He mulled over which reaction he preferred.
“But of course, my lord,” she replied.
Derek forced a smile. Of course. Not the response of a woman trapped in circumstances under which she had no control and she would gladly extricate herself from if she could.
“Although, I can’t imagine how you would manage it. While I’m positive Mrs. Abernathy would never breathe a word of it to anyone, the dowager is another matter. I believe she’s eager to see me ruined.”
She adjusted her bonnet as if it rested uncomfortably on her head. “Why, have you figured a way out?”
“No.” Although he did have his man of business working on something. But it would take a bit of time. Ten days he’d been told.
She looked down at her hands tightly clasped in her lap and now her brim obscured her face from view. He wished she’d take the damn thing off.
She laughed but it was a fragile and thin sound. “Am I that bad a prospect?”
Derek swallowed hard and shifted in his seat. For a reason he couldn’t fathom, he wanted to put a smile back on her face. To see the same light passion had ignited in her eyes those moments in the garden.
“That’s not it at all. I’m certain there are more men than I could count who would be proud to call you their wife.” It was only after he’d uttered the words and tested them in his ears that he realized what ill a fit it was, well-meaning though they were.
“But not you.” she said, but looked up at him as if expecting an answer.
Her gaze struck him. Those eyes. Had he ever seen a color quite like it? Brown liberally peppered with light flecks of gold. Not one dash of green in them. Beautiful. While he may not want her as his wife, he could imagine other positions he’d enjoy having her in. He grew hard, his cock responding to his thought as if it’d received a physical stroke.
“I don’t know you well enough to say.” His voice was graveled in large part because he couldn’t control his reaction to her.
“That didn’t prevent you from kissing me.”
“Miss Smith, if I were to wed every woman I kissed, I would have been a husband many times over.” He would have been wed at the age of twelve.
A soft blush suffused her face and she fell silent.
As passionate as her response to him had been, Derek could clearly see she was an innocent. A virgin. And virgins wanted everything proper: the courtship, the wedding, and the bedding. Everything in its rightful order.
If everything went as he firmly expected it would, there would be no need for a marriage. Which meant there wouldn’t be a bedding. His cock twitched as if in protest. But if circumstances concluded they did have to wed, he wondered if she had any real comprehension of just what she was letting herself in for. He was a man of healthy sexual appetites and in regard to her, his appetite had grown. What would she say to being kept in bed for days, for that’s how long it might take to sate his initial hunger for her.
“And you are quite certain you have no objection to marrying me?” This wasn’t a fishing expedition, more a subtle warning.
She laughed and the sound caught him square in the gut. The word delightful came to mind.
“You ask as if you’re some horrible ogre, which you certainly are not.”
Derek sat back against the squab as he tried to decipher the puzzle that was Elizabeth Smith. She was forthright…to a point. But still so naïve when it came to men.
Had she indeed set out to trap him? He’d pondered that question all night. The part of him that wanted to shag her senseless was inclined to believe her. But the other part of him had long decided that most women couldn’t be trusted.
If his man returned with the information Derek needed, the plan could only work if Miss Smith didn’t sow the seeds of scandal herself. Given her recent response, he couldn’t trust that she would. What he needed was that she find him less than desirous as a prospective husband.
“You do realize that as your husband I will have certain rights?”
Finely arched brows met above the bridge of her nose. She appeared to puzzle over his question. Realization dawned swiftly, her eyes going wide, her lips parting in a silent oh.