Her true name spoken in his voice seemed somehow a betrayal after what she had just uncovered. She wished she had not told him she was called Johanna instead of Rose. Wished she had not allowed herself to entertain the foolish weakness she felt for him.
But she would face him calmly, she vowed, and with her head held high. “Good evening, Your Grace.”
She had not intended to place an emphasis upon his title, but she did. Even to her own ears, her words held an almost mocking tone. She swept into a deep curtsy, keeping her face deliberately expressionless.
If he wanted to do nothing more than bed her, he would be sorely disappointed. For she had never been the sort of woman to engage inaffaires. She was, instead, the sort of woman who shared nothing of herself with anyone. That she had lowered her defenses, and that she had been wrong to do so, stung.
His countenance was as grim as she felt, but his eyes were vibrant and intense, searing her. “Yesterday, you called me Felix. I was hoping we may have reached an understanding.”
Though he said the words with ease, she could not shake the sense that they did not ring true. Something about him was different tonight. He was somber. Intense in a different fashion than before. As an actress, she was more attuned to those around her than most people. Acting relied upon reading the emotions of one’s fellow players, taking that energy and harnessing it in turn.
“There is no understanding to be reached between us,” she said, “other than that I will soon be five thousand pounds richer.”
She needed that money. She needed to steel herself against his handsome charm, which was suddenly so much more compelling now that she was alone with him in the room. His lips drew her attention, and for a brief, mad moment, she wondered what it would be like to feel them against her own.
She chased the unwanted thought from her mind.
“I propose we change our wager.” He closed the distance between them, stopping when he was near enough to touch.
“Change it how?” she asked, painfully aware of his sandalwood scent hitting her.
“We eliminate it.” His gaze held hers. “You have demonstrated an estimable determination to win. I, on the other hand, am being kept from what I want most. Unless I am mistaken, we have found ourselves at a stalemate.”
Kept from what he wanted most.
Her.
It had been so long since she had been touched. Since a man had held her gently in his arms in truth rather than in the course of a drama being enacted on the stage. A great pang of want hit her before she could stay it. And not just for the mere act of any man’s tender touch, either. But specifically for his.
This man’s.
Why was it so impossible to cling to her resolve when he was in such tempting proximity?
“I do not want to win,” she countered. “I must.”
That was true, as much for the additional funds as it was for her ability to cling to her own sense of honor.
He was unsmiling. “Forget the wager. I will give you the five thousand pounds.”
She froze. “Give me the five thousand pounds, Your Grace? What are the terms of such a benevolent gift?”
“You.”
She swallowed. “I beg your pardon?”
“I will give you the funds and concede the wager to you. In return, you will give me yourself.” He watched her in that intense manner he possessed.
As if he could see inside her, to all the parts of herself she kept hidden from the rest of the world. To the parts of her she had kept locked away. The parts of herself she did not know existed.
Everything inside her wanted to say yes. She needed the funds. She wanted the duke. But she had never sold herself, and she never would.
Her chin lifted. “I believe you are mistaken about me, Your Grace. I am not for sale. Nor have I ever been. And while five thousand pounds would make my future much easier, I am not prepared to barter my body in order to attain it.”
“I am not buying you, Johanna, but compensating you. Showing you my appreciation.” He paused, his gaze flitting to her lips. “It is a common enough understanding.”
“One you have reached many times before, no doubt,” she snapped. “This is where you bring your women, is it not?”
His full lips compressed into a tight line as he watched her. “It is the residence I procured for my last mistress.”
