It hadn’t seemed so, in the beginning. When Chris had decided to make an honest go of his marriage to his wife, she had been glad of it—both for him, and for herself. She’d got the flat out of him for the unexpected termination of their arrangement, and when he had had his key delivered back to her, there had been an undeniable thrill that had arrived with it. Not because she had disliked their arrangement, but because it had represented a sort of peace she had never had before.
The end of obligation. She was free to ignore a knock at the door, and there would be no one to simply let himself in regardless. And she had reveled in it, that precious freedom she had seized.
She had never gotten around to finding a lover; someone with whom to share her now-unending free time when she wished it and not otherwise. And now, Captain Sharp had offered her an unexpected challenge: not simply tofinda lover, but tocreateone.
A uniquely tantalizing prospect. Men, even the very best of them, could at times be selfish and cold lovers. Some, regrettably, perceived the use of a woman’s body as something he was owed, something to which he was entitled—most especially if she were his mistress or his wife.
Charity had been largely lucky in the patrons she had chosen for herself. But many women were not. Too many gave themselves in marriage with no concept of what their married life would be, what she might face in the marital bed, whether she would be treated with the respect due to her in or out of it.
If she was of a mind, she could teach Captain Sharp to be the sort of husband, the sort of lover that every woman deserved. It would be a service, as it were, to whichever woman came after her.
It would be a service, however briefly, to herself. To mold a lover—in a sense—to her tastes. To have a willing student; a man devoted not tohispleasure but to her own.
A queer shiver ran down her spine, and a sudden heat bloomed in her belly. A sort of arousal she’d not felt in months. A reminder,she thought, of her own inherent sensuality, largely latent for some time now. A woman had needs, and hers had long gone unfulfilled. Long enough that she had almost forgotten the feeling of a man’s hands between her thighs, a man’s mouth at her breasts.
A healthy sexual appetite too long ignored could do strange things to a woman.
They could, for instance, cause her to agree to an incredibly indecorous proposition. With trembling fingers she disposed of the ruined sheet of paper, found a fresh one, and took up her pen once more.
Dear Captain Sharp, she wrote, in perfect fluid script, allhesitation vanquished.I accept.
Chapter Eight
Iaccept.
Those simple words alone should not have made Anthony’s heart beat faster, should not have dampened his palms in a mist of sweat. But they had, and he—he couldn’t even say whether it was anticipation or anxiety which had done it.
He hadn’t expected her to agree, really. But perhaps he had grown rather too accustomed to rejections of all kinds just lately. Enough that he had naturally begun to presuppose them before they had occurred. And now that, for once, that predicted rejection had not come, he didn’t know what he was meant to do about it.
In print, she was not a woman of many words, it seemed. She had given him no terms, sent along no contract, named no price for her assistance. Was he meant to see to the particulars himself? Send a proposal to her solicitor?
“What does that woman accept from you?”
The tight, guarded words reminded him at last that he was not alone; thatMotherhad handed off the letter to him, a fact which had entirely slipped his mind since he’d opened the note. Flipping the letter over, he scanned for evidence of a seal—and there, the slight discoloration, the oil-like sheen upon the paper where a dab of wax had once rested. The seal not only been broken, but picked clean off, as if to erase its existence altogether.
“You opened my letter?” he inquired, his tone so flat that it had sounded more like a statement than a question.
“Of course I did. I frequently managed your father’s correspondence for him, as well,” Mother said, without so much as a shred of shame. “It is beyond the pale that she should be writing to you. She presumes upon an acquaintance that ought not to exist.”
“It is beyond the pale that you should be opening my correspondence,” Anthony said, striving to keep his tone even and firm. “Much less reading it. You will not do so again.”
Mother drew in a sharp breath. “You were not trained for this role you now play,” she said, and the severe cut of her voice slid like a razor against his every nerve, fragile threads fraying beneath it. “You are inexperienced, unpracticed—”
Unworthy.Always the lesser. Always thelast. It would likely not be the last time he heard those words slung at him, and yet—somehow they hurt less than they once had. Of course the sting was still there, like the burn of a shallow wound. But the darts, he thought, had not struck quite so deeply as they might have only days ago. A flesh wound, and he’d survived worse.
“Regardless, it is now my role to play,” he said, “however I care to do so. I would remind you that Charity and I have the matter of our inconvenient marriage to resolve.”
“Pray do not be so foolish as to pay the woman,” Mother said, her inflection contemptuous. “She will only want more, and you will never be rid of her. Not when she discovers how deep your pockets go.”
Even he did not know quite how deep his pockets went at the moment. He’d yet to find the time to go over the accounting books and various financial ledgers to determine an exact figure. His solicitor was still deep in the arduous process of drawing up a thorough accounting of all the assets that now belonged to him. “My business with Charity is exactly that,” he said. “My business, and no one else’s. When she is here”—and it was likely that she would be a great deal—“I will expect you to be cordial. If I find that you have not been so, then I will be happy to arrange for you to leave London for your dower estate.” A small but respectable property in Cornwall, out in the provincial countryside. Perfectly suitably as a retreat from the bustle of the city, but too far from the creature comforts of town which Mother preferred. The income it produced would only just cover the costs of maintaining the estate itself, much less provide the sort of financial security which would let her come to London for the Season.
Mother went a shade paler, her lips thinning. Affecting a more moderate tone, she said, “Warrington, you must be reasonable. That woman had been within these walls too often already. There will be talk.”
“Would you prefer, then, if I were visit her residence instead?” Anthony inquired dryly, with the sardonic lift of one brow.
There was the grit of clenched teeth in her voice when she responded, “You know I would not.”
“Charity, at least, stands a fair chance of going unnoticed here, if she dresses appropriately and arrives after dark. Whereas I am always noticed,whether I wish to be or not. And even if shewerenoticed, no one would be fool enough to think anything unsavory was occurring. Not within a household in mourning.” Not with his mother in residence. His sisters-in-law. His nieces.
