Page 45 of Desire and Discipline
She stared at him, aghast, as though he had just announced that he had no brain in his head.
“Because… because… because you cannot behere!”
Sitting up, Oliver crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her. The sheet fell away to his waist, and her gaze skittered over him before coming back up to meet his. Yes, he was still erect and would be perfectly happy to service her again this morning. Hands, tongue, and cock were at the ready.
“Of course I can. It is my house. Where else should I be?”
“Not inmyroom!” She looked like she was ready to explode. “I need to pack! You need to do… to be in your room when your manservant arrives… Oh God, he’s going to think you are missing! You have to go!”
The point about Johns was a good one, but his valet was not one to panic. However, he would be rightly concerned to find Oliver’s bed empty and probably begin searching immediately.
Before Oliver tended to that, there was a more pressing matter to attend to.
“You are not leaving this morning. We have things to discuss.” Many things. And, if he had his way, she would not be leaving any time soon, if ever. He’d done some thinking last night and realized that she would be a perfect marchioness.
No one else in thetonwould blink an eye at her relative youth. She was firmly on the shelf, but he was a marquess and already had an heir. As a second wife, her age was far less of a consideration, socially speaking. She already fit in with his family and household and knew their secrets. And… well, if he was being honest with himself, he had a mountain of unacknowledged feelings for her that he had been suppressing for one reason or another. Feelings he no longer felt required to suppress.
In fact, knowing she had still been a maiden before last night, despite being part of the Society of Sin, had solidified his intentions. He had been her first, and he intended on being her last. Besides which, waking up next to her in bed for the rest of his life made life seem far more appealing. Something he did not discount since he’d found himself at loose ends after his niece and her husband had taken over as spymasters to the Crown.
“Then you may make an appointment with me to discuss it. I will be staying at the Hotel Thames.” That stubborn chin went up in the air.
Hell and damnation. It might be time to resort to more serious tactics. But he gave it one last go.
“Stay another day. We will talk, then you can decide what you want to do.” He said it in his most reasonable, wheedling tone.
Unfortunately, she knew him as well as he knew her, and her eyes narrowed at him.
“You think you can convince me to keep staying on? Why do you want me to?”
“Why would I not?” He countered. “What is so pressing that you feel you have to leave?”
For a moment, he thought she would answer him, but then she pressed her lips together and shook her head.
“Impossible. You are impossible. Get out. Go back to your own room. I am packing, then I am leaving. If you are intent on talking to me, I can return for dinner or supper tomorrow.”
Well, that would not do. Once she was out of the house, it would be much more difficult to convince her to come back to it. Fine. Drastic measures it was.
“Diana—” He started to get up, then let himself pale, putting his hand over his heart and falling back into his seat.
“My lord?” She was back at the side of the bed in a moment. “My lord, what’s wrong? What is it?”
“I… I feel odd…” Aware he was possibly overplaying his hand, he let himself fall back onto the pillow, gasping. “I feel so odd. My arm…” He’d seen men fall victim to similar ailments. His heart was pounding rather fast in his chest, but otherwise, he was perfectly fine.
It was a little insulting how easily she was convinced of his oncoming doom.
“Oh, no… I… just wait…” Still holding the sheets around her, she lifted them up without thinking, scampering to her door and throwing it open. “Help! Sylvie… fetch help! We need a doctor!”
They did not. He’d trust her judgment over any doctor’s, but he was content to let her call for help.
That was the entire point of this charade.
Diana
She should not have argued with him. Despite being healed—for far longer than he would likely admit to—he was hardly exerting himself the way he likely used to. How much had last night overworked him? And then arguing with him on top of that… blast.
But she had not thought…
He’d seemed perfectly…
