“If you took that book and added, say, a salacious scene, then perhaps I might consider it.” With an ironic twist of his mouth, he tapped his finger against the desktop.
Fire burned my cheeks at his inference. I licked my lips and tried to wrap my mind around his proposal. “You wish for me to write about intimate relations between my hero and heroine? They are not married.”
“They do not have to be married. Are you married?” Once again, he inspected my person. I resisted the urge to clutch at the material of my military-style jacket to make sure I was adequately covered.
“No, I’m not. Is there a demand for such debauchery?” No one had ever subjected me to such an odd conversation or one so inappropriate. Nor had I ever seen a man touching another’s privates in such a manner, yet the sight enthralled me still.
“Yes, there is a voracious readership for it. Now, if you removed the female protagonist from the equation, or all three people were in flagrante delicto, I would be interested in publishingthatkind of gothic novel.”
“Oh.” The words sank in, and my face flamed hotter. “Oh.” In the brief time I had watched the two men exchange intimacies, my body had responded to the visual stimuli. If I could see it again, I could pen what I had seen to paper, or could I? “I never, I mean, I ...”
“Exactly. I’ll not be publishing your novel as it is. I wish you good luck.” He started typing again, signaling the end of the interview.
I clutched the briefcase to my chest and reached the door, my knees weak. What he suggested was scandalous. My entire family told me I was foolish to be a novelist. Mr. Moran would prove them right.
The tears flooded my vision, and I blinked them back. I wanted to prove them wrong. I halted and turned on my heel.Before changing my mind, I marched back in and stood before his desk. “If I write such a novel, will you publish it?”
Raw laughter escaped him, and he nodded. “If you wrote it, yes. But we both know you won’t.”
“Will you give me your word?” I asked, pleased my voice didn’t wobble. If he said yes, I would seek out the men and make them a proposition. My knees shook at the thought of being so bold.
He fiddled with one of the ivory keys on the typewriter and exhaled. “I’ll tell you what. You send me the first half of the book, and I’ll promise to read it. If, and only if it fits into what I’m looking for, I give you my word that I will publish it.”
The simple part was over. I had to come up with a plan to convince two men to either teach me bed sport, with both of them as willing participants or just allow me to observe the two of them. Hysterical laughter burst forth. I was mad to think I, a woman afraid of my shadow, would be bold enough to bed two men at once just to research a book. Madness had indeed set in, but if I could pull it off, I could live my dream to publish my book.
This was my last chance, and I would take it.
Chapter Three
Sir Colt Lawrence
I entered Alton House and patted the letter in my pocket, still in shock over its contents. My life was changing again. I recently inherited a title from a distant cousin. I thought it was an empty one. Apparently, I thought wrong.
“Good afternoon, Frank,” I greeted the butler, slipping out of my hat and coat.
“Sir Colt, his grace would like you to attend him in the studio.” The butler straightened the hem of his fashionable tweed suit instead of the customary livery. Unlike most homes, the duke wanted to encourage his staff to express themselves in whatever way suited them. He was very bohemian in his views and in his personal tastes.
Although the house was much smaller than the ducal estate, it suited Lord Kendrick’s personality. It was decorated in a modern arts and crafts style with geometric design instead of the stuffiness of the ducal ancestral home. “I’ll check my correspondence and then seek him out.”
“He is insistent you seek him out as soon as you arrive.” Frank motioned to a maid to take my outerwear, the tips of his mustache curling.
“Very good.” I inhaled a deep breath and strode down the hallway to the studio. As an artist, Lord Kendrick had a dramatic side. However, he was an amiable sort and gravitated towardunconventional people. He attracted them like a magnet with his impressive frame, wavy brown hair, and charming smile.
The knob to the simple wooden door opened without a creak. Several walls had been taken down, and the architect had combined three rooms into one. Another door led outside to the kiln. Light showed through the windows that banked the back of the house, revealing Lord Kendrick’s bold profile.
