Page 38 of One Dangerous Desire
He said yes.
Such a simple little word. Three letters. A single sibilant breath. Yet there was power in it. Perhaps enough, May thought, to take her future and reshape it entirely. Could it overturn the plan upon which her life had been shaped? Marriage to a nobleman. Acquisition of a title that could never be earned, an honorific as impressive as the wealth her father had accumulated through tenacity and financial wiles.
Emily gripped her arm and pulled May from her tangled thoughts—ofyesand Rex and the conundrum of what to do with her irrepressible, inconvenient feelings for him.
“Thank you for accepting my invitation. I can’t tell you how mortified I am about last evening’s unpleasantness.” Emily’s tone took on an irritatingly reedy quality when she was feeling guilty.
And there was no need for it. As far as May was concerned, the awkwardness with Devenham was the least memorable part of the evening. She tapped two fingers against the art exhibition brochure in her hand and considered how best to convince her friend that more apologies were unnecessary.
“Let’s put it aside, Em. I bear no grudge against you. How could I? Based on what I heard through the doorway, you took my side in the matter and intended to tell me all of it if Henry would not.”
“But it’s dreadful that you had to hear it that way. What a shock it must have been.”
“Honestly, it wasn’t.” A shock to learn the earl wished to marry her for the million-dollar dowry her father had been touting since their arrival in London? Not at all. Henry’s love for another didn’t even nick her pride. Not truly. He’d feigned interest in her, and she’d barely encouraged him. But now, in the cold light of day, May couldn’t say she hadn’t sensed the truth between them all along. She’d never imagined marriage to the Earl of Devenham would be a love match.
“You spoke to me a few weeks ago about practicality, Em. I know the Devenham estate is in need of funds, and Henry’s and Caroline’s marriages are meant to shore up the family coffers. How can I blame them for a situation they didn’t choose?”
“Perhaps I’m not as practical as I thought I was.” Emily twisted her gloves in her bare hands as they progressed through two halls at Burlington House set aside for a Royal Academy exhibition. Though the exhibit was not yet open to the public, a small group of academy patrons had been invited to an early viewing. “It bothers me to speak of money so plainly.”
Wealth and the lack of it were never easy to discuss, in May’s experience. Her parents had retreated behind closed doors whenever financial matters arose, keeping any mention of dollars spent or earned hidden like family secrets. Which only made May doubly curious to learn what all the fuss was about.
She knew Rex had struggled through desperate times after losing his mother, but he’d revealed little about the years between entering an orphanage at ten and the afternoon May met him in the glassware shop.
Memories of that day were still sharp. He’d looked like some undercover warrior masquerading as a shop clerk, with a cut just above his dark brows and the shadow of a bruise on his left cheek. His muscular arms and shoulders had strained against the confines of his clerk’s uniform. Starched cotton and heavy wool could do nothing to conceal the energy coiled beneath.
Thinking of him brought the previous evening to mind. Much of it was a blur. She’d sat through the meal and after-dinner conversation, warm and dazed from his kisses.
“Let’s discuss something else, my dear. I can’t leave today without purchasing a few paintings. Help me decide.” Emily hooked her arm through May’s. “Choose some for Ashworth House, and I’ll convince Papa to hang them wherever you say.”
The last person to clasp her arm had been Rex, and she couldn’t shake the memory of it. There had been no promises, no offers, but he admitted that he’d loved her once. Did he still? Her need to find out obliterated any possibility of continuing the pretense of finding an aristocratic husband.
“I haven’t won the wager, Em.” Nor did she any longer have a desire to win. Did Rex? Would he continue his pursuit of a blue-blooded bride? He’d avoided Lady Caroline during the dinner party, despite her attempts to insert herself by his side.
“Papa was wrongheaded to suggest it. As practical as I may be, even I know finer feelings must inform any decision to marry.”
No part of the reaction Rex sparked in May was as mundane asfine.
“I hated the notion of you rushing into an engagement,” Emily continued. “Or Mr. Leighton, for that matter. No one should enter a union as important as marriage just to satisfy my father’s predilection for wagers.”
“But Mr. Leighton requires your father’s investment in his hotel.” May wanted to know more about Rex’s hotel, but every time they were together, circumstances or duty drew them in opposite directions. “Will the duke still give his support if we forfeit the wager?”
“Oh, I think he will. Papa rarely mixes wagers with business. I’ve no idea what possessed him this time.” Emily patted May’s arm comfortingly. “Leave it to me. I’ll convince him to assist Mr. Leightonandallow you to give us beautiful red walls in the library.”
“Thank you, Em.”
“Don’t you dare thank me. I owe you gratitude for allowing Henry to remain for dinner last evening.”
“Throwing him out would have embarrassed us both.” Among their social circle, rows were generally short-lived and amends made quickly, even if it required pasting a phony smile on one’s face for the remainder of an awkward evening. “But I can’t marry him.” On that point, she needed to be absolutely clear.
They stopped to ponder a striking painting of a man in Tudor-style clothing. He stared back at them with haughty impatience, as if he hadn’t time to be captured in oils and hanging about in a gilded frame.
“I understand.” Emily sighed. Casting a sideways glance at May, she asked, “Does Mr. Leighton have anything to do with your decision?”
“Yes.” Ah, that powerful little word again. Such relief to say it, to admit what she’d spent years denying to her father and herself. “I . . . ”Love him.Why was that bit more difficult? The truth, even when it was about to burst her heart at the seams, was shockingly hard to get out.
“Oh no.” Emily’s exhibition brochure slipped through her fingers, and May bent to catch it.
“What is it?” May stood up to find Emily was no longer standing beside her. She’d begun striding toward the front of the hall to confront Henry.
