He shrugged, more sober suddenly than he wished. “It’s over. Let’s get out of here. We’ll wait at my house for the more definitive documents from Malmsey. We’ll have some champagne to celebrate the happy occasion,” he offered, hoping to lift her spirits-although he could use a bottle or two himself right now. “I have an excellent library if you like to read, a china collection of my mother’s I’m told is good”-women like china collections, don’t they?-“I also have a damned fine chef who’ll cook you anything you want. From cakes and tea to bloody beef and anything in between. Are you hungry?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Do I look so forlorn you must cajole me?”
“Like a lost puppy, darling.” His voice was idle as if his thoughts were elsewhere. “Come, we’ll discuss Compton’s blighted hopes over breakfast,” he said, the familiar amusement back in his tone. “That should please you.”
She smiled ever so faintly as he moved toward her. “How blighted are his hopes? Lie if necessary.”
“Blighted beyond redemption. No lie. And as your savior,” he said with a wicked wink, taking her hand in his, “I shall expect my reward in short order.” Better sex than morbid reflection-his mantra of recent years.
“Shameless libertine,” she accused, although her voice held a hint of levity. “Don’t you ever think of anything else?”
“Not with you around.” Taking the marriage parchment from her hand, he dropped it on a chair and pulled her close. “See?” His remedy of choice to moments of chagrin.
Lacing her arms around his waist, she moved her hips against his rising erection and, gazing up at him from under her lashes, saw the familiar smoldering flame in his dark eyes. “You’re always ready to oblige a lady, aren’t you?” she murmured, a familiar glow beginning to warm her senses.
Sliding his hands down her back, he pressed her into his rigid length. He couldn’t say sex had been his substitute for feeling the last two years. “Why don’t we pull down the carriage shades,” he said instead, “and entertain ourselves on the drive home.”
“You do know how to cheer me up.”
“What’s a husband for if not that?” he offered with a grin. “My God,” he exclaimed, “I’m going to engage in carnal relations with my wife.”
“Your temporary wife.”
His grin widened. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
But their plans were curtailed once they reached the lobby for Malmsey was waiting for them. “Forgive me,” he said with a rueful smile, “but I still have questions to put to you both before I can draw up the settlement papers.”
Oz glanced at Isolde, who stood at his side, her gloved hand resting on his arm. “Do we have time?” She was less inclined to forgo her pleasures than he.
She hesitated.
He was about to make some excuse to Malmsey when she leaned into him and looked up from under the hood of her blue velvet cloak. “It’s up to you.”
It made no difference to him one way or the other; he’d be fucking her soon enough. But Malmsey’s hopeful expression couldn’t be overlooked. “Ride with us and ask your questions,” he kindly offered. “You need paper and pencil, don’t you? Fremont!” He gestured as if writing. “Fetch a pencil and paper!”
The distance to his home wasn’t sufficient for Malmsey to interrogate them fully, so Oz invited him in.
As the trio ascended the shallow bank of stairs, the front door of Oz’s mansion opened before them with smooth efficiency, and Oz ushered Isolde over the threshold into an entrance hall of palatial proportions, considerable colored marble, and an impressive display of gold gilt.
A majordomo of indeterminate age and considerable consequence stood at attention before them in a simple black livery.
“Good morning, my lord.” Neither his expression nor manner indicated the singular occasion. Oz did not bring his lady loves home. “Would you be needing refreshments?”
“Yes, please.” Relieving Isolde of her cape, Oz handed it to a footman. “I have a small announcement,” he remarked with the tranquility of a man long accustomed to indisputable power. “Allow me to introduce my lady wife and your new mistress, Lady Wraxell.” His gaze moved from his retainer to Isolde. “Josef will cater to your every whim, darling, as he has to mine for as long as I can remember. You may wish us happy, Josef,” he finished with a smile.
“May we offer you our most hearty congratulations, sir,” the tall majordomo said without so much as a glimmer of surprise in his cool, grey gaze, nor a glance at the disheveled state of the newlyweds’ clothing. “What a great pleasure it is to meet you, my lady,” he added, turning to Isolde with a look as bland as that he’d offered Oz. “I know I speak for the entire household when I wish you both much joy.”
Oz dipped his head. “Thank you, Josef, and thank the staff as well. I’m afraid we’re both tired and hungry. It’s been a busy, energetic many hours. If someone could show Mr. Malmsey to my study,” he added with a glance at the barrister, “we’ll join him there.”
As Malmsey was led away, Oz looked at Isolde. “Now, is there anything you’d like, darling?”
She blushed.
He smiled, mouthed the word soon, then shifting his gaze, addressed his majordomo with imperturbability. “See that my lady’s valise is brought in and put in the ivory chamber. We both need a bath drawn. Have coffee and some small nourishment brought to the study. Brandy for me.” He took Isolde’s hand. “This shouldn’t take long, darling. We’ll send Malmsey on his way in short order.”
As they walked away, Josef turned to the several footmen on duty who displayed varying levels of shock. “I suggest you stop gaping and see to your duties. Have the lady’s valise brought in, see that she has a servant waiting in her chamber, and inform Achille that our master is home, hungry, and newly married.”
“A prodigious surprise,” the elderly hall porter said, his long-standing employment in the household allowing him such frankness.
“But a pleasant surprise,” Josef murmured. “The boy has long needed a companion.”
“As if he ain’t had enough of those,” a footman said under his breath.
“That’s quite enough, Ted. Mind your tongue.” Josef clapped his hands. “I believe you all have duties to perform. We wouldn’t want our new mistress to find the household deficient in any way.”
But once everyone had dispersed, Josef allowed himself a pensive moment. He’d been with the young master since birth, having served his father before him. He hoped the boy hadn’t made too hasty a decision. He hoped above all that the new Lady Lennox would bring their headstrong master joy. Two years ago, young Oz had lost the woman he loved as well as his parents in the space of six months. He deserved some happiness.
COMING TO A stop outside the door of his study, Oz pulled Isolde close and stole a kiss. “Mmm-you feel good. Don’t go far.”
She smiled up at him. “Since I seem to be addicted, you needn’t worry.”
He drew in a quick breath, let his hands drop away, and reached for the door latch. “Let’s get this over with. I don’t want anything of yours. Correction, anything material. You I want. Ready?” At her nod, he shoved open the door, waved Malmsey back into his chair, and escorted Isolde into his book-lined study. The room smelled of leather bindings and hashish, of masculine cologne heavy with musk. Of brandy most of all. He spent his evenings here reading and smoking before his nightly excursions into London’s clubs, society, or stews.
“We’re at your disposal,” he courteously said, conducting Isolde to a leather wing-back chair and dropping into a chair beside her. “Ask away, Malmsey, although you only need protect your client’s property. I’m not concerned with mine. I have more money than I need. I own the largest merchant bank in India.” He smiled at Isolde. “Unlike your cousin, I only want you.”