The Unexpected Marriage of Gabriel Stone (Lords of Disgrace 4)

Lady Caroline blushed again. ‘I have seen you about at balls and so forth. People talk.’

And you have been interested enough to ask about me? Gabriel laughed inwardly at himself. Coxcomb. Flattered because some attractive girl has noticed you? Women tended to look at him, just as he looked at them. But not well-bred virgins. He had a highly developed sense of self-preservation.

‘I will take you up on your offer,’ he said. She gasped as though she had not expected it and the colour fled from her cheeks. ‘I will send the deeds to you when I receive them from your father and you will give me an IOU for your maidenhead, to be surrendered when your marriage is definitely arranged.’

‘But...’

‘I may be a gamester and a rake with a shocking reputation, Lady Caroline. But I am a gentleman. Of sorts.’ Just enough of one not to barter your innocence. On the other hand, if she thought they had an agreement it would prevent her doing anything else reckless in order to raise money to pay him. He could simply hand her the deeds and he should do just that without any conditions. But the hunter in him enjoyed having her between his paws. Not to hurt, just to play with a little. He was so damnably bored these days. ‘On my honour I will speak of this to no one. What is your decision?’

* * *

She had expected to be sent packing with Lord Edenbridge’s derisive laughter ringing in her ears, or to find herself flat on her back in his bedchamber, and had not been able to work out which of those was the worst of two evils. What she had not expected was this reprieve. Which was not a reprieve after all, merely a postponement, she realised as his words sank in.

‘I accept.’ Caroline wondered if she was about to faint. She was not given to swooning, but the room seemed unexpectedly smaller and there was a strange roaring in her ears that must be the sound of her blood.

‘Please send the deeds to this address.’ She found her piano teacher’s card in her reticule and handed it to him without meeting his gaze. She had tried not to look at him, partly because the whole situation was so mortifying, but also because she knew she blushed every time she saw that rangy, carelessly elegant figure. Looking at his face, so close, would be too disconcerting. ‘Miss Fanshawe understands the situation at home.’

‘She is used to acting as a go-between for your illicit correspondence, is she?’ The earl moved away towards a writing desk and Caroline realised that she had been holding her breath. A hasty glance at his back made her shiver. He was far too large and male and animal to be so close to. Whenever she had seen him before it had been across a ballroom floor at a safe distance and there his dark hair and the slight carelessness of his formal evening attire had been attractive.

This near, in the same room with him, his casual disregard for the niceties of fashionable male dress and grooming was shocking and more than a little unsettling. His hair was thick, slightly waving, rumpled as though he had run those long fingers through it. His face was shadowed by dark stubble, his neckcloth was pulled askew and his collar had been opened, exposing the base of his throat. He smelled of brandy and smoke and something faint and musky and his eyelids drooped with a weariness at odds with his drily intelligent voice. She wondered what colour his eyes were. Dark blue, brown?

At a safe distance he had attracted and intrigued her. The gossip about him was both titillating and arousing to a well brought-up young lady and she had fed her fantasies with it. Of course, she’d had no expectation of finding herself within ten feet of the object of her lurid imaginings. Aunt Gertrude, her chaperon, would have hysterics at the thought that Caroline might actually speak to Gabriel Stone.

His reputation was shocking and yet no one accused him of being vicious. He was amorous, said the whisperers, dangerous to a lady foolish enough to risk her heart with him and he was far too good at cards for the health of anyone reckless enough to cut a deck in his company, but Caroline was not hazarding her allowance. Nor her heart, she told herself. In the shock and anger of discovering just what Papa had done last night, Lord Edenbridge had seemed like the answer to her dreams—amoral, unconventional, sophisticated and possessed of his own particular brand of honour. The man had disturbed those dreams often enough, so surely the bargain she was proposing would not be so very unpleasant to go through with, given that one had to lose one’s virginity some time, to someone? Lord Woodruffe’s stomach wobbled over the top of his breeches. She shuddered. I will not think about Woodruffe. Think about this man. Nothing about Lord Edenbridge wobbled physically, nor, apparently, mentally.

Caroline gave herself a mental shake. ‘I do not have any illicit correspondence,’ she said. ‘But Miss Fanshawe is a friend.’

‘Not much of one if she is encouraging you to come here.’ He pulled back the desk chair for her.

‘She has no idea what I am doing.’ Caroline eyed the pen stand warily. She was not at all certain she knew what she was doing herself. It had seemed such a good idea at nine o’clock that morning. ‘What should I write?’

‘Whatever you feel covers our agreement.’ The wretched man had a perfectly straight face and his eyes beneath those indecently long lashes were veiled, but she suspected that he was amused.

‘Very well.’ She dipped the nib and began, choosing her words with care. She was not, whatever he thought of her, completely reckless.

I agree to pay Lord Edenbridge the price agreed upon the arrangement of my betrothal.

Caroline Amelie Holm

June 1st, 1820

She sanded the paper with a hand that shook only a little and pushed the note towards him. ‘Will that do?’

‘Admirably discreet.’ He folded the paper and slid it into his breast pocket. ‘This will reside in my safe, most securely.’

‘Of course.’ Strange that she had total confidence in his discretion and his honour—in keeping this a secret, at least. He would not be bragging in his clubs that he had made a conquest of the retiring and virtuous Lady Caroline Holm. Would he?

‘Why do you trust me?’

he asked abruptly, the question so near to her thoughts that she stared at him, wide-eyed, convinced for a moment that he could read her mind.

‘I have no idea,’ she confessed. ‘Only my own impressions and the fact that everyone says how shocking and ruthless you are, yet you are never accused of dishonourable behaviour.’

‘It is easy enough to be honourable if one is never tempted.’ His voice was dry and his smile held little amusement. ‘I confess that it is a novelty to be trusted quite so implicitly, Lady Caroline.’

The heat that had been ebbing and waning throughout this entire outrageous interview swept up her cheeks at the thought of what tempting this man might involve. She was innocent, certainly, but not ignorant. ‘Obviously I have not tempted you beyond reason, my lord, given the very businesslike way we have concluded our bargain.’

‘I did not say that I am not tempted, Lady Caroline.’ He took her hand, raised it to within a hair’s breadth of his mouth and held in there for a moment. His breath was warm, his fingers firm. She braced herself for the brush of his lips.