Page 16 of The Truth About Lord Stoneville
Unfortunately, she doubted that very much.
AS THE COACHset off, Oliver took out his watch and held it up to the window to catch the light of the gas lamps. A little after sixp.m.Excellent—they should arrive in time for dinner. Gran never missed dinner.
He surveyed the pretty woman seated across from him. A pity that she wore her redingote, since the gown beneath it showed her figure off to greater effect. An even greater pity that he wasn’t allowed to remove either one.
He’d had a devil of a time resisting the urge to run his lips down the sinuous curves of her neck while helping her dress. Odd sensation, that, being close enough to a female to touch her, yet not allowed to caress her body. He was used to taking what he wanted from women, something they generally encouraged.
Miss Butterfield’s neck would make a delicious first course in a feast of delicacies. Her lips alone would keep a man happy for some time, not to mention her lovely plump breasts. For half a second, he indulged the fantasy of getting her alone in a corner, kissing her senseless, then slipping his hand inside the oh-so-accessible bodice of that gown to . . .
He stifled a curse as his cock stirred inside his trousers.There was to be no seduction of Miss Butterfield. Aside from the obvious problem of her virginity, her fiancé could show up at any moment to complicate matters.
And even if the chit was amenable—a very large “if”—she would regret it later. He couldn’t afford to offend her “moral principles” and send her fleeing from Halstead Hall in a panic.
While her cousin gazed out the window in wide-eyed curiosity, she sat bristling with righteous indignation. Her soft bow of a mouth lacked any hint of a smile, and her shoulders were set for battle. She’d decided he was a wicked seducer, and even his rescuing her cousin from the hangman hadn’t changed her opinion.
It rather intrigued him.
Women rarely voiced their true opinions about his character. The virginal ones were too terrified to do so, warned by their mamas about his being dangerous. The married ones were too eager to share his bed to chide him for his perfidy. Except when they talked about him behind his back, recounting with relish the particularly nasty rumors concerning his parents’ deaths. A scowl knit his brow.
Please forgive me. It’s awful to lose your parents. I know that better than anyone.
The sudden tightness in his chest made him stiffen. Why should he care if she were sorry? Or that her soft sympathy had slipped under his guard to warm a tiny corner of the dark place inside him?
Her sympathy meant nothing. She didn’t know the gossip. Once she heard it, she would recoil from him inhorror. She wasn’t the sort of woman to find the rumors of his dangerous character intoxicating; she was too “moral” for that.
He shook off the depressing thought. He had only an hour to prepare her. “I should mention a few things before we reach my estate.” When she turned a wary gaze on him, he told himself it was better if she despised him. It would make it easier to keep the pretty filly at arm’s length. “Our agreement that I help you look for your fiancé must, for obvious reasons, remain between the three of us.”
“I won’t say a word,” Freddy vowed from his seat next to Oliver.
“Nor will I, of course,” she said.
“And you must appear willing to marry me,” Oliver said.
“I understand.”
“Do you? It means you’ll have to act as if you enjoy my company.”
To his surprise, a small smile curved her lips. “I believe I can manage that.” Then, as if realizing she was softening, she wiped the smile from her face. “But you must behave responsibly, too.”
“By not trying to seduce you, you mean.”
She started. “No! I mean, yes . . . I mean, you already said you have more urgent concerns.” Alarm rose in her cheeks. “Oh dear, I forgot that you also said you have no honor or morals.”
He’d made similar assertions half his life, yet tonight he regretted making them. Shocking young ladies seemed to have lost some of its appeal.
“All the same, Miss Butterfield, I promise that your virtue is safe from me.” When she looked skeptical, he added, “You’re not the sort of woman I prefer.” A respectable woman came with strings attached.
“Of course I’m not,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Anyone can see that.”
That took him aback.
She went on. “A man with no morals isn’t going to want a woman whohasthem. She’d never let him do anything wicked.”
Freddy coughed, as if choking on something. Oliver understood why. Miss Butterfield had an unnerving way of cutting everything down to its essence.
“Yes,” he said, for lack of a better response. “Quite.” Then he narrowed his gaze on her. “So what did you mean when you said I had to ‘behave responsibly’?”
“You promised to find my fiancé, and I expect you to hold to your word.”
