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“Does that mean you accept my proposition, my lord?”
“Indeed, Miss Herwood.”
She emitted a small breath of relief.
Rising, he went to his writing table and began to pen their agreement. “When do you wish to depart?”
“When I have received the initial payment?”
“I can have it
sent to your address tomorrow.”
She nodded and picked up her reticule. He was satisfied to see that she was a little flustered. Signing the agreement with flourish, he melted the wax over a candle and affixed his seal.
“I will make all the arrangements necessary and send further instructions by messenger. You need only prepare your person and a valise.” He held the agreement out for her. “Our agreement simply states that I owe you the balance when you have completed three nights at the Chateau Follet, and that disclosure of our arrangement to anyone entails an additional payment of five hundred pounds.”
“That was unnecessary, but thank you.” She took the agreement.
He rose. “Allow me to see you—“
“I do not require an escort to the door.”
He watched as she pulled the veil over her face. It was unnecessary to conceal her identity when she had given her name to his steward, but perhaps she intended to hide her embarrassment.
“Until tomorrow then, Miss Herwood.”
“Until tomorrow.”
He sat back down only after she had departed. Her words hung in the air, ringing with promise. There had been no hint of dread in her tone and none in her kiss. That she did not despair at his touch had made his mind. As he had suspected but begun to doubt, she had not forsaken all desire for him. He had not asked the obvious question, in part because he had no wish to dissuade her from her proposition, but she could have simply asked him for a grant or loan sans any condition to go to Chateau Follet. It pleased his vanity to think it was because she wanted to go with him.
With renewed vigor, he looked to finishing the letter to Lucy that he might then turn his mind to spending the next three days—and nights—with Miss Herwood.
Chapter Four
COULD THE BARON ROCKWELL have been more maddening? Deana fumed as she walked away from his townhouse, the ghost of his kiss still burning her lips. Why did he sit there impassive, as if he had limited interest in seeing his own invitation fulfilled? Recalling the brief but forceful manner in which his mouth had claimed hers, she imagined he could not have been entirely indifferent. A small surge of triumph lifted her heart. He had, most importantly, agreed to her proposition.
She wished the kiss had lasted longer. It had been quite unexpected and equally jarring when he had returned her to her feet, almost as if she were a fruit and he was merely assessing whether she had spoiled. Perhaps he wanted to ascertain if he could still find her pleasing? But if he had not known, why proposition her to begin with? She might have accepted him the first time. The kiss affirmed to her that she had and still desired him, to degrees beyond all else she had desired. Bereft of his touch, her body felt out of sorts.
The Chateau Debauchery.
She shuddered with anticipation, a heady mix of giddiness and fear. And she was to spend three nights at such a place with him. What had he said about the activities there?
Not for the faint of heart.
She recalled the implements and imposing fixtures in his secret room adjoining his drawing room. He had only used the flogger upon her. She had never expected to find pleasure from being bound and lashed, and the intensity of the experience had shocked and amazed her. She would have done it again and again. But could she withstand more? They had agreed upon a safety word that she had not used, but would she require it often at the Chateau?
And who besides Lord Rockwell would be a guest there? She would have asked him more about the Chateau had she not been in such haste for him to accept her proposal. He had certainly asked enough questions of her, as if he were conducting a bloody inquisition. Was it merely a meddlesome nature? It would be no easy matter spending any night with the man.
You must learn to obey my commands.
What the devil did he mean by that? The realization sank in that she would be at his mercy in an unfamiliar place, among unfamiliar people, to engage in unfamiliar acts of debauchery. She had been quick to place her trust in him because she required the funds, but perhaps that would not prove prudent? He had mentioned the Marquis de Sade. Was the Chateau Follet intended to be a replica of the Château de Lacoste? She shuddered again.
Having arrived home, she let herself in and went upstairs to look upon her mother. Mrs. Herwood lay in her bed asleep. How pale and weak she appeared. Deana sighed, knowing she was a great disappointment to her mother.
“A woman with no funds and passing beauty cannot be particular,” Adeline had advised her on many occasions.
Though Deana did not disagree, she had not been able to bring herself to apply more effort to men she had little interest in. While she may not have much to recommend, she did possess intelligence, health, and a fair disposition. Surely that merited some standards in selecting a husband? But perhaps it was selfish of her not to have made the sacrifice regardless.
