If she’d thought for one minute that he could conceivably come to care for her, she might at least have hesitated a fraction of an instant before refusing him. But no, it was impossible to think of the elegant, cynical Duke of Arden losing his head or his heart to her or any other woman. He was the last man who would ever make a love match when he didn’t even believe in love.
Yet last night, Roslyn conceded, she’d been forced to admit her fierce desire for him-the illogical, vexatious, maddening desire she’d tried earnestly to deny ever since meeting him. And during a long sleepless night of tossing and turning, she’d had to acknowledge a more profound truth. Not only had Arden shown her the forbidden pleasure that awaited her if she surrendered to him. Not only had he filled her with an anticipation and craving for a passion beyond what she ever imagined. Much worse, he had made her question her own deepest longings.
Did she truly want to win Lord Haviland’s heart? Or was it merely a pipe dream that she had built out of an idealistic need for love?
Whatever the answers, she no longer felt in control of her destiny.
She wanted to curse the duke, and yet she couldn’t place the blame entirely on him. Her own wanton behavior was inexcusable.
Swearing mentally at herself, Roslyn shook off her dark thoughts and bestirred herself to give all her attention to Lord Haviland. For the next three-quarters of an hour, they indulged in amusing banter with the pleasant intimacy of old friends. It was the most comfortable she had ever been around him.
And that was a big part of the trouble, Roslyn realized with chagrin when his lordship returned her to Danvers Hall and took his leave of her. She felt little of the spark with Haviland that the Duke of Arden kindled in her with only a glance. Every time she was with the earl, all she could think about was Arden.
And her mind kept insisting on comparing the two of them. They were both dynamic, charismatic men, but only one made her blood sing and her stomach flutter. Only one made her lose all her willpower when he merely kissed her as Arden had done last night.
His embrace had been dominantly possessive, eliciting an erotic response in her beyond her control. The experience had shaken Roslyn to her core, and opened her eyes to self-doubt as well.
A doubt that had only been confirmed in the cold light of day. The moment she’d greeted Lord Haviland this morning, she’d understood why her pulse didn’t quicken at the sight of him. Why her heart didn’t race and turn somersaults in her chest at his nearness.
She felt affection and friendship for the earl, but not much of the delicious thrill she always felt with the duke.
Feeling a deep regret, Roslyn slowly made her way upstairs to her bedchamber. She wished her sisters were here so she could discuss her dilemma with them. Arabella would likely understand and be able to offer sage advice, yet regrettably she was still away on her wedding trip. And Lily was also away, in London.
Besides, Lily would be the last person to ask, since she was so adamantly opposed to marriage. Lily would say that she’d lost her wits-and Roslyn would have to agree. She had just tossed all her long-held aspirations, all her beliefs about what she wanted for her future, out the window.
Fanny would be happy to listen, of course, but Roslyn felt that she’d intruded on her friend quite enough in the past few weeks. And in any case, Fanny was in London, too, nearly an hour away.
Perhaps she should apply to Tess for advice. Tess fully appreciated her desire to make a love match and approved of her interest in Lord Haviland. But what would Tess say about a woman’s need for passion in her life?
Roslyn had never let herself dream of having a grand passion in marriage. She’d told herself she would be content with love and affection. But now she was beginning to wonder if she didn’t want passion after all.
One thing was becoming certain, though. She would have to end her pursuit of Haviland. It wouldn’t be fair to him to continue trying to rouse his interest and affection when she was so attracted to another man. It wouldn’t be fair to make Haviland fall in love with her, either, when she might never be able to truly love him in return.
Closing her chamber door behind her, Roslyn took off her half-boots and pelisse and sat upon the bed with her arms around her updrawn legs, her chin resting pensively upon her knees. She wanted to remain there for the rest of the day, stewing over her dilemma, but in a few hours she would have to face Lady Freemantle. Winifred’s invitation to tea this afternoon had practically been a summons.
Roslyn had considered declining but knew her friend might show up on her doorstep demanding to know what was wrong with her. And it would be easier to battle Winifred’s matchmaking efforts at Freemantle Park when she could threaten to leave.
As expected, Winifred wasn’t the least contrite about last night’s conniving. In fact, Roslyn learned to her dismay when she had settled in her friend’s ostentatious drawing room, the Duke of Arden had been invited to tea this afternoon as well.
“Winifred! You simply must stop this shameful scheming,” Roslyn complained. “It is utterly mortifying.”
Smiling, the elder woman shook her head. “In this case you are off the mark. It wasn’t my scheme to invite you both here. Arden himself suggested it.”
When Roslyn’s jaw dropped, Winifred’s smile broadened. “Don’t looked so surprised, my girl. Anyone can see that the duke is taken with you.”
“That isn’t so.”
Ignoring her protest, Winifred glanced out the drawing room window at the gray sky. “I trust it won’t rain until after he arrives.”
Roslyn found herself gnashing her teeth. She had no idea why Arden would want to take tea with her, but she was very certain she didn’t want to see him again.
Not after last night.
Did he wish to apologize to her for his scandalous attentions in the garden? Or perhaps he intended to renew his addresses to her, God forbid. He couldn’t do either in front of Winifred.
Yet it was more likely, Roslyn realized, that he had arranged a meeting this way so she couldn’t refuse his company. At least they would be chaperoned so there was no chance she would repeat her deplorable surrender. Even so, she wondered how she would manage to get through the next hour.
Her agitated thoughts were interrupted when Winifred mused aloud, “It is much chillier than I expected. Would you be a dear and fetch my shawl from my dressing room?”