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He never allowed himself to become too close to a woman. If the relationship had an expiration date, they never had the chance to leave him, as his mother had left his father after he went mad.
Each liaison remained a shining memory, perfect and pristine without the mess of emotions, the inevitable sordidness of the shine growing tarnished, like a coin passed through too many palms.
“Oh, one more term, Lord Hatherly.”
“What’s that, Dimples?” So far he liked her terms. A lot.
“I want all your attention during my brief sojourn in your home. I will not share you with courtesans. You will not bed me one night and then go off to the opera. While I reside under your roof you will be faithful to me.”
“How many females do you think I keep?” he teased.
“Enough to satisfy your depraved needs.”
“Ah. Yes. My depraved needs.”
He wrapped a hand around her neck, keeping the pressure light—the suggestion of a lover’s control.
He slid his other hand along the small of her back. Soft, feminine curves yielded to his taut frame. A slight thrust of his pelvis, and their bodies met in a new way.
Her breath caught and she wriggled, almost imperceptibly, a small shift in the angle of her hips. The suggestion that she already instinctively knew how to seek her pleasure with his body had him hard in an instant.
Oh, he was going to enjoy having Alice in his bed for a month of tutelage.
Maybe they’d never even leave the bed. He could have all their meals sent to his chambers.
“H-have your man of business draw up an agreement detailing the terms of our arrangement,” Alice said breathily. “I trust you have one who is discreet?”
He nuzzled her neck and nipped at her earlobe. “The most discreet in London.”
Patrick served as his solicitor on occasion. He had a strange history—he’d been stolen as a child and raised in America, but now he was restored to his rightful place as brother to a duke. He could probably have given up his profession as a lawyer, and he had, to a certain extent, but he still helped Nick with any contracts he needed, as well as other, more clandestine activities.
“Wouldn’t you rather have a special license?” He kissed the hollow in the center of her neck, inhaling the fresh, bright scent of her, like a crushed leaf from a lemon tree. “You could be in my bed within the week. To begin your lessons.”
She placed a hand on his cheek, stilling his movements. “My mother wants a society wedding. She’s foolish sometimes, she flutters and flaps so, but she means well. She only tried to stop me from traveling because she truly feels the place of a female is by the hearth and home. Her father was a vicar with a meager living and she cared for him until his death. And then she married my father—a wealthy merchant. Now she wants what she never had—a place in the upper tiers of society.”
She had a glib and persuasive way with words. Now he was even feeling twinges of sympathy for the matchmaking Lady Tombs, something he’d never thought possible.
“We’ll have to wait at least three Sundays for the banns to be read,” Alice continued. “But this isn’t a love match. You don’t need to court me or take me riding in Hyde Park. Although if we are seen in public together you will have to act besotted. Mama will be so gratified.”
He lifted his head. “Right. Act infatuated with you, if seen in public, and show up at the church.”
“Do you think you can manage it, Lord Hatherly?”
“I’m the gentleman you require, Dimples.” He lifted her hand and touched his lips to her smooth skin. “You can count on me.”
