Page 44 of The Truth About Lord Stoneville
He shrugged. “He’ll be discreet, now that he’s determined to ‘protect’ you. As long as Gran doesn’t get wind of it, we’ll be fine.”
The carriage slowed, momentarily snarled in somewelter of carts and coaches, and he found himself grateful for any extra time it gave him alone with her.
“What did he say about his chances of finding Hyatt?” Oliver asked.
“Not much. But at least I’m closer to that than I was before, thanks to you.”
He didn’t want her thanks. As far as he was concerned, Nathan Hyatt could rot in hell. Oliver had probed Freddy for information on the way to the club. The more he heard, the more he despised the man. Hyatt clearly wanted her for practical reasons that had nothing to do with her generous heart and her fierce loyalty. It was like watching her repeat Mother’s mistake. It could come to no good.
He had to make her see that. “Has it occurred to you that Hyatt might not want to be found?”
With a hard swallow, she stared out the window at the clamoring crowds. “Yes.”
“And if that’s the case? What will you do then?”
“I don’t know.” Her gaze shifted to his. “Why? Are you offering to marry me in his place?” When Oliver stiffened, she added hastily, “I’m joking, you fool. Can’t you tell when a woman is teasing?”
No. Women rarely joked with him about matrimony. Worse yet, the idea wasn’t as repulsive to him as it should be. Just the thought of having her in his bed to talk to on nights when he couldn’t block out the memories . . .
“It’s a shame you’re so deplorably virginal,” he quipped, trying to match her light tone so she wouldn’t see howshe’d unsettled him. “Otherwise, I’d make you a proposal of a less savory kind.”
A teasing smile touched her lips. “Oh? Would you offer to ravish me?”
As soon as the words left her mouth, the air between them crackled. And suddenly he couldn’t joke about it anymore. “Actually, no.” He waited until her gaze met his. “I’d offer to make you my mistress.”
Chapter Twelve
The air left Maria’s lungs. Did he mean it? She was never sure with Oliver; he tended to say things just to shock her. Yesterday he’d succeeded, but she was rapidly coming to realize that it was his way of holding people off, keeping them from rejecting him first. If he swaggered about, proclaiming himself a devil before others could say it, then in his eyes he had won.
It was much the same way Papa had acted about his bastardy. He had never kept it a secret—he’d offered his pedigree to anyone who asked, as if daring them to look down on him for it. How odd that the two men were alike in that.
The difference was that Papa was always belligerent in his assertions, while Oliver delivered them in a coolly bored manner.
Except for now. He looked surprised by his words. Then his gaze steadied and started to smolder, igniting a heatwithin her, and she was suddenly aware of how very alone they were.
“Ah, but since Iamdeplorably virginal,” she said, striving to keep her tone as casual as his, “the point is moot.”
“Let’s say you weren’t,” he persisted, his voice a rough rasp. “Just for conjecture’s sake. You could stay here under my protection until we tired of each other, and then return to America. No one need know how you’d spent your time in England. Hypothetically speaking, of course.”
Something stirred low in her belly at the idea that he might seriously be making her an indecent proposition. No man had ever done that to her, especially one so sinfully attractive. How did he manage to make something insulting sound so flattering?
Careful, Maria,she cautioned herself.He came by his reputation honestly.“Hypothetically speaking, you’ve known me only a day—surely you need longer than that to choose a mistress.”
“I wanted you the first time I saw you.”
His look held such primitive hunger that she knew there was nothing hypothetical about this discussion.
Fighting to hide how badly his words had thrown her off guard, she quipped, “And what would I be . . . fifteenth in your long line of mistresses?”
His breathing seemed as unsteady as hers. “The first, actually.” The low rumble of his voice resonated in every nerve. “I’ve never had a mistress.”
She choked out a laugh. “As if I would believethat.”
“It’s true. I’ve always preferred less permanent connections with women.”
That shouldn’t surprise her, but it did. “Am I also supposed to believe that you’d alter that preference for me? Hypothetically, that is.”
The carriage felt too small to contain them both. He didn’t move from the seat opposite her, yet his very presence overpowered her. “Why not? People change.” His gaze darkened to a fathomless black as it scanned her face. “I would treat you very well. You’d want for nothing, I swear.”
