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Frustration pinched
his brows. “I know you consider them your family. I’m not asking you to give that up.”
“Oh?” She pursed her lips and, sitting up, propped her chin atop her folded arms on the lip of the tub, facing him. “You propose making yourself our ‘special companion’ as far as the public is concerned, then? Because that’s what they will think. And at that point, they will start calling you a molly.”
“Bloody hell,” he sighed, sinking back a little deeper into the water. “I don’t want to do it that way, but if it’s what I must do, then…”
She sat up so abruptly that it splashed water over the side of the tub, wetting the rug beneath. “You’re serious?” She’d assumed the very idea would be off-putting enough to make him drop it.
“I’d really rather not, but yes.” He too sat up. “Why can we not simply see each other secretly? Our gardens share a gate. It would be a simple thing to keep it quiet.”
A snort broke free before she could stop it. “So you say. But I’d wager it would be out within only a day or two.”
“I think we can do better than that. But even if it does get out, what harm is there in it for you?”
“Not me. Harrow. If I’m seen having a clandestine affair with you, it will make him look bad.”
“You mean worse than if people think the three of us are in bed together every time I come to pay a neighborly call?” he said with a chuckle. “I should think that far worse than you leaving him for me.”
She shook her head. “You don’t understand. Even if you were truly amenable to becoming our ‘third’, we’ve never—to all appearances, thanks to René’s talent with disguises—had the same ‘gentleman friend’ overnight with us more than two or three times within the same year. As long as it’s an occasional event, people generally don’t make assumptions about Harrow other than that he’s got a penchant for voyeurism—a perception I support as often as occasion provides.”
“So we continue to perpetuate that assumption, only with me being the regular ‘entertainment’.”
“And how long do you think that will last before people start presuming you and he are also…involved? You’re already known to be good friends, and he’s ‘sharing’ me with you tonight. You must consider how it would look.”
“As long as we are discreet, stick to our story, and no one can prove otherwise, people can speculate all they like.”
“That’s a reckless way of thinking, and it leaves too much to chance.”
“You were the one who suggested it as a possible solution.”
“Only because I thought you would never actually consider it,” she confessed, frowning.
A smug grin spread across his face. “I guess I’m more open-minded than some people assume. Why would it be any more reckless than what you currently have in place?”
Sighing, she rose from the bath. It was growing tepid anyway. “To date, there has been no one person people can point to and say, ‘there he is, the man who shares their bed.’ As of now, it’s just something people whisper of and snicker over in dark corners at balls. As I said, a titillating bit of gossip. But if you become that man, it gives people a target for their curiosity and their disapproval. From there, it will progress to persecution, and that risks engulfing us all. I cannot allow that to happen. Too many people could be hurt.”
“Then the only solution is to become my mistress outright,” he said, following suit and stepping from his bath. “We’ll think of a way to make the transfer that won’t damage people’s perception of him as a man.”
She was already shaking her head in denial. “No. I made a promise, and I intend to honor it. If you wish to engage in the occasional rendezvous with me, we will need to arrange it with Harrow, and it cannot be so often as to give rise to the aforementioned consequences.”
“That’s not going to work for me, Diana.” Coming up behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. “I can tell you now I’m going to want to see you more often than what you’re suggesting.”
Part of her was thrilled to hear him say it, but she knew it wasn’t safe to let that part overrule good sense. “I feel the same way, but we must be prudent about this.” It was difficult, but she clamped down on the longing that rose up within her, wrestling it under control. Emotions—especially ones without any chance of reciprocation—couldn’t be allowed to get in the way of her purpose.
He kissed the damp curls at the nape of her neck. “If you give me the key to the gate, I could slip in under cover of darkness and no one would be the wiser. We could even plan ahead for it.” His lips nuzzled her ear. “I could come every Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday.”
Laughing, she turned in his arms. “Lucas—”
“I love the way my name sounds when you say it.” He dropped a kiss on her upturned lips.
She pulled back before he could deepen it, but didn’t break the circle of his arms. “I cannot be persuaded,” she said on a laugh, which was wrung out of her despite the intention to sound stern by the sight of his pursed lips chasing hers.
“Care to wager on that?” he taunted, waggling his brows. When she didn’t answer immediately, he moved to her neglected ear to nuzzle it, too. “You should reconsider your response to either option. I believe a clean break would be better, but I’m willing to risk a quick run through our gardens during the wee hours if it means I get to do this several times a week.” His lips trailed across her collarbone.
Damn him. After what they’d done tonight, she knew she’d be unable to resist the temptation he represented. She needed to talk to Harrow about this. Unlike her, he would have a clear head and be able to look at it objectively. Well, more objectively than her, at least at the moment. “I’ll think about it,” she said noncommittally, bending her neck to give him better access.
…
