Page 26 of Gentlemen Prefer Heiresses
Not as strong a word asloveand she wondered if he had an aversion to the term and experiencing the emotion. “How did you meet?”
“Our paths crossed when I was riding in the park. She caught my attention. Actually, her smile caught my attention. If ever a painting were created to demonstrate a come-hither look, hers would have served as the example.”
“Was she pretty?”
“Beautiful. While it was a bold action, I introduced myself. She hinted she would be visiting a particular museum the following day—at two—and I made a point to be there. She was alone. Our first kiss occurred behind the statue of a scantily clad couple lost in an embrace.”
“You certainly recall the particulars.” She didn’t like the jealousy that speared her.
“I remember everything. Every encounter. Every stolen moment. Her reputation needed to remain untarnished. She wanted no scandal—much like you. And nothing at all like you.”
The last was said so quietly she almost didn’t hear it.
“As I mentioned I was nineteen. Still residing with my parents. I wanted to be completely alone with her. I wanted more than kisses. She yearned for them as well. There is a club for those who seek secretive trysts.”
“The Nightingale Club,” she offered. “I’ve heard of it.”
His breath wafted over her cheek. “I assume you’ve never been.”
“Absolutely not. But I’ve wondered about it. If it’s as decadent as they say.”
“More so. It is a refuge for sinners and when you are surrounded by those desiring what you desire, it is easy to forget the wrongness of it.”
“But still, you met her there.”
“I did. As often as I could. I fell in love with her there. I decided I would make an honest woman of her. I would court her properly.”
“What did she say when you told her?”
“I didn’t tell her. I sought to surprise her. So I began to attend balls. At the third one, I spied her, standing with a group of men and women. But I didn’t really see them. I saw only her. The besotted fool I was, I rushed over to greet her, to let her know I was there, to ask for a dance. I knew the moment she spotted me. She didn’t smile or appear to be happy to see me. She showed no emotion whatsoever, as though her features had been frozen in ice. When I finally arrived, with my heart pounding, she merely said, ‘Hello, Lord Andrew.’ And then she introduced me to her husband.”
She twisted around. “You didn’t know she was married?”
“No, I knew only her Christian name. Unlike Rex, who was continually expected to attend social functions and was introduced to this lord and that, who accompanied Father when he went to his clubs so he would know who was powerful and who was not, who was a political ally, who might be an enemy, I was left to wander about wherever I wanted. I wasn’t bothered by my father’s ignoring of me. I had no interest in meetings, in learning what I must know in order to one day take over the reins. They would not be handed to me. I much preferred learning where the best whiskey was served, the more interesting wagering took place, and the most willing women were to be found.”
“What did you do when confronted with her husband?”
“I did what any good whore does: I pretended she meant nothing to me and it was a pleasure to meet him.”
She could hear the disgust in his voice—disgust with himself. The woman had made him feel less, feel used. She couldn’t imagine it, the bruising his pride must have taken. “The woman didn’t deserve you.”
“Her words were very similar when we met up later on an upper floor balcony, in the darkness away from everyone. ‘Spares are for fucking,’ she said. ‘Not for marrying.’”
While she might not know who the woman was, she felt an immediate gut reaction to her: she hated her. Not out of jealousy because the beastly creature had held Andrew’s affection—although she feared that might be part of it—but because the lady had hurt him, used such ugly words to describe her association with him. “She was a horrid woman. What she said wasn’t true. A goodly number of second sons marry.”
He chuckled darkly. “Not this one.”
“Who was she?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters. If I don’t know who she is then how am I to tear out her hair from her head.”
His laugh was low, dark, soothing. She felt him relax against her. Until that moment she hadn’t realized how tense he’d been sharing something so personal with her. His lips, warmer than usual, landed below her ear, threatened to melt her where she sat.
“You’re a temptress. You tempt in me in so many ways that you shouldn’t, to confess things best left as secrets, to do things best not done.”
“I’m glad you told me.”
