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“It was indeed,” she said with another laugh. Peering at him sidelong, she made a snap decision. “Roses were, in fact, not at all a topic of our discussion.”
The man’s eyes lit with quiet humor. “I thought that sounded a bit far-fetched. The analogies you exchanged were rather obvious. You know, of course, he means to seduce you?”
“I know he means to try. He made that abundantly clear,” she told him with a long-suffering sigh.
“And does our friend have any chance at all of succeeding?”
“I won’t entirely rule out the possibility,” she answered lightly, earning a look of patent disbelief. “But it’s doubtful. I’m no green girl to be swayed by a handsome rogue or a lot of empty promises.” Pausing their progress, she pinned him with a hard stare and watched his eyes widen. “If you truly are his friend, you’ll tell him I’m no easy conquest. Since becoming Harrow’s mistress, I’ve had all manner of men try to tempt me away, from penniless painters to peers. The man who persuades me to leave my lover will have to offer me something he cannot.”
“And what is that?” breathed Westing, looking as if he were about to be told where the Holy Grail lay hidden.
She let a wry smile tilt her lips and tried to ignore the empty ache in her heart. “When I discover it, I’ll be happy to tell you.”
He released the breath he’d apparently been holding. So dejected was his demeanor that she could hardly stand it. Threading their arms, she patted the top of his sleeve, hoping to buoy his spirits. It worked, for his smile returned, but it was a bit less bright than before. “But what of you?” she asked him. “You’ll pardon my saying it, but you don’t seem the sort to befriend someone like Blackthorn. You’re far too wholesome for his company.”
Now Westing laughed outright. “Don’t let my splendid, angelic appearance deceive you. I’m quite equally as bad in my own way, and I flout Society’s rules on an almost daily basis.”
“Oh? Do tell, for I delight in rule-breaking.”
What followed was quite likely the most unexpectedly pleasant conversation thus far that day. Westing wasn’t the rotter he claimed to be by a long shot. He was, in fact, truly far too nice a gentleman for Blackthorn’s circle. Yet she could tell by the way he talked of him that the two were like brothers. She vowed not to ruin his good name if she could help it.
Blackthorn, on the other hand, had stubbornly put himself on the board and was fair game. She watched him from the corner of her eye as he hovered near Harrow, and it took all her self-control not to let her smile turn smug. Given the way her protector currently looked as if he might asphyxiate, Blackthorn must be making an utter cake of himself. In a way, she supposed it was a good thing she hadn’t had time to warn him what was coming; his startled reaction to Blackthorn’s doubtless unsubtle approach was a genuine one.
Oh, yes. The after-dinner conversation tonight was going to be simply grand! René must be warned that his beloved was now the object of a determined pursuit by a man who thought himself entirely too clever for his own good. She could hardly wait. Blackthorn had no idea the trouble he’d put himself in with this rash move.
Although Harrow’s face appeared dangerously flushed, Diana was confident in his ability to handle whatever was thrown his way and had no qualms about setting Blackthorn on him. Her dear friend would know just how to manage the fellow. By the time Harrow was finished with him, the cocky roué would likely be questioning his own leanings.
She almost regretted doing this to him. Almost.
If only things had been different…
No. She couldn’t afford to think about could-have-beens that would never be. Her plan was the right one. She’d let him think her amenable to his advances and allow him to chase his tail on that front while his attentions were divided trying to seduce Harrow.
Her surprise at his reckless desire to throw what little reputation he had straight to the dogs just to sleep with her had been real enough, but she knew he wasn’t serious about Harrow. True, he’d called her bluff, but he wouldn’t actually follow through. He’d put on a show of trying to win Harrow’s affections for her sake, all the while truly intent only on cozening her into his bed.
Harrow was right. By the time Blackthorn accepts that he’s playing an unwinnable game, even if he discovers the truth, his name will be so deeply entangled with ours that he won’t be able to reveal it without implicating himself.
>
She felt no guilt. He’d been warned.
When Harrow at last extricated himself to fetch her, she found herself reluctant to leave Westing’s easy company and distance herself. But such was necessary if she didn’t want to see his name smeared. She understood why Blackthorn liked him; he was congenial, kindhearted, and without pretension. The perfect friend. How Blackthorn had come to earn his confidence was a mystery.
The back of her neck tingled as they were saying their goodbyes, and she knew he was staring at her again. Giving in to the impulse, she glanced over her shoulder and confirmed it. Blackthorn’s eyes conveyed the expected desire as he gazed at her, but they also held unconcealed irritation.
He’s jealous! The blood in her veins surged with victory, but she quashed her excitement. She had no business being pleased to see him that way. When she turned back, she marked Westing’s gaze had followed hers. The benign gentleman’s smile had faltered, and she suddenly knew it wasn’t Harrow reclaiming her that had set Blackthorn on edge, but her easy acceptance of his friend.
Perhaps distancing herself from Westing could wait a little while. It might be wise to hold that card in reserve in case things didn’t unfold as anticipated. If it all went pear-shaped, they might need his help later to make Blackthorn see reason. She gave Harrow’s side a surreptitious double nudge, silently telling him to invite the person in front of them to further socialize.
He did so without question, again proving his trust in her. The look on Westing’s face was one of transparent pleasure as he accepted an invitation to join them next Tuesday for an evening of cards. He would round out their group by partnering her while Blackthorn, who’d already been invited, would partner with Harrow.
She felt bad leaving Westing to bear the brunt of his friend’s imminent displeasure at having been made part of a larger group rather than the more intimate trio he’d wanted, but it couldn’t be helped.
The look Blackthorn directed at her when Harrow revealed this news as they were taking their leave was accusatory. She met it without flinching. If he thought she was going to make this easy for him, he had another thing coming. Arching a brow at him, she gave him one last chance to withdraw. “We’ll see you Tuesday evening, then?”
…
The only thing required was a plausible excuse, and he’d be out of this fool’s game with nothing lost but a bit of dignity. He could say he’d forgotten about another obligation, but that would be letting her win. The gambler in him wouldn’t stand for that.
