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But what if it was one of Harrow’s requirements? Could he do it? He’d tupped a willing wench with other men in the same room before. It shouldn’t feel any different. But Lucas knew it would. Those had been his university mates, and as far as he knew none of them fancied other men. Harrow did. Even though they were on friendly terms, and even if the fellow never laid a finger on him, it would feel…awkward.
The very idea made his palms sweat. I’m beginning to regret making that wager.
But even as he thought it, her image rose in his mind’s eye. The memory of her smile, her laugh, the way the sun glinted in her hair, turning it into spun gold. Her soft voice, the way she looked at him as if seeing into his very soul. She was utterly captivating.
And he liked her. Her forthright manner held such appeal. He didn’t like people who dissembled. Especially women. She was different.
He liked her a great deal. Enough to admit to himself he wanted more than one night. The original plan, then. Persuade her to leave Harrow and their lover.
It still rankled that he didn’t really know who the fellow was. He’d seemingly come from nowhere. As skilled a pianist as he was, he ought to have had some patronage before becoming Harrow’s lover.
Lucas’s step faltered as another thought struck.
What if he did? He’d assumed Harrow had known the man first, but what if it was the other way around? What if the pianist was in fact the unknown lover who’d caused Grenville to abandon the idea of marrying Diana? It all made sense. Upon being discovered and subsequently cast out, she’d become Harrow’s mistress and then had introduced him to her lover.
How ironic it must have been for her to learn that Harrow and her musical amour had developed a taste for one another. He’d give a lot to know how it had ended with the three of them coexisting in seeming harmony. But he couldn’t ask her about it until she revealed his identity herself, or she’d know he’d been spying on her.
One slip, and… Such an error didn’t bear consideration. He locked his curiosity away, determined not to let it get the better of him. Again. It had already landed him in far too much trouble.
The atmosphere in the ballroom had begun to noticeably shift. He could feel questions hanging in the air like gathering storm clouds. Everyone would want to know the details. He would provide none. He couldn’t. At least not until he knew what he’d gotten himself into.
…
At precisely two o’clock the next day, Lucas found himself settling into a chair opposite Harrow and Diana in her drawing room. The gentleman had greeted him with surprising warmth, as if they truly were good friends, and Lucas had relaxed, secure in the knowledge that his host wasn’t jealous.
And for good reason. His lover was doubtless waiting for him upstairs. Her lover, too. The thought made him clench his teeth. No matter how hard he tried not to look at it, Lucas’s traitorous gaze kept wandering over to where the pianoforte stood by the window.
Harrow’s voice jarred him from his increasingly black thoughts. “Though you’ve never asked me about it, I’m certain you must know by now that Diana and I are accustomed to this sort of thing.”
“I’ve heard a few rumors,” he replied carefully, striving to appear calm.
One corner of the other man’s mouth quirked upward. “Then you must have heard something of my role in such assignations.”
Indeed, he had. When he tried to speak, Lucas found his mouth devoid of moisture. He’d been a bold liar when he’d told Diana he wouldn’t mind taking them both on. Now his bluff was being called. Though his innards trembled, he forced himself to meet the other man’s gaze. “I try not to pay heed to idle gossip, but yes.” He was pleased at how nonchalant he sounded, as if it didn’t matter to him in the least whether or not it was true.
Harrow’s smile deepened, and something like approval flickered in his eyes. “Allow me to set you at ease by assuring you that, although I’m quite fond of you and consider you a friend, I have no interest in making you my bedpartner.” He leaned forward a little and winked. “Handsome as you are, you’re simply not my sort.”
It was only with the utmost self-discipline that Lucas refrained from sagging in relief. Despite his effort to conceal his reaction, however, he suspected Harrow knew. Giving up the charade, he allowed himself a small huff of laughter. “Fond as I am of you, as well, I cannot say I’m offended by your rejection.”
Soft laughter followed the admission before Harrow carried on. “I’m glad that’s cleared. As to your interest in Diana, you should know it was her decision, and hers alone, to accept and follow through on this wager. I asked her if she would prefer I offer you alternative compensation. She refused.”
She does want me! Again, Lucas was filled with exultation as he looked to his hostess. Part of him was peeved over her attempt to cozen him into embarrassing himself through a public pursuit of Harrow, but he was too happy and relieved to sustain his ire. Of course she’d tried to dissuade him! She had a great deal to hide, and he understood she viewed him as a risk of exposure. “I’m glad you chose to honor our wager, and I promise you won’t regret it.”
“She better not,” said Harrow before she could reply. “Nor should I.” Now Lucas saw the deadly duelist in the face of the man he’d, surprisingly, begun to genuinely think of as a friend. “Which leads me to the requirements for this rendezvous. It must be held here, and you will vow never to reveal to anyone the specific details of what occurs beneath this roof. I don’t expect you to deny the assignation—all of London knows of the wager—but if and when you speak of it, you will be discreet. I’ll not tolerate Diana being denigrated by anyone.”
A frown pulled at Lucas’s brow. “You may count on my utmost discretion, of course. And know that I’ll be the first to set my fist to any man’s face should he speak ill of her in my presence.” The vehemence with which he said it shocked him a little. He mellowed his tone and addressed the lady directly. “My desire for you has nothing to do with being able to boast of any conquest.”
At last she spoke, her soft voice cutting the thick silence that had fallen. “I’m aware, or I would never have agreed to this.”
Again, as Lucas looked at her, he realized one night with her wasn’t going to be enough. But it was a start. He’d make it the best night of her life, a night to make her want many more just like it. A night to make her forget the pianist and every other man she’d ever known. “I’m glad. You have my word as a gentleman that I won’t share the details of our assignation with anyone.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, demurely looking down at her hands, which were folded on her lap. He briefly marveled at the sudden rosiness of her cheeks but had no more time to reflect on it as she continued. “Then I invite you to dine with us here tomorrow evening at seven o’clock and remain with me thereafter as my guest until the following morning.”
“It will be my honor.” A frisson of excitement ran through him such as he’d not experienced since he’d been a green youth. Mingled with it, however, was a bit of affront at the thought of Harrow chaperoning them. But he couldn’t begrudge it.
After all, she is playing the part of his mistress, and she is his friend. It stands to reason he’d want to remain close to see to her safety. Briefly, he wondered what her nimble-fingered lover must think of this arrangement. Before he could ponder it, however, Diana rose suddenly, startling him.
“No, please don’t get up,” she said, stopping him from doing likewise. “If you’ll pardon me, gentlemen, I have another matter to which I must attend.”
