“No, well, I mean yes, I suppose.” She fiddled with the thumb of her glove and stared down at her feet. “I need a favor, well, I’m not sure favor is the right word. I mean, it is asking a lot, um, but yes, for our purpose, let’s say favor. I think you are the perfect person to help me in my endeavor.”
My stomach sank, but I nodded. Ladies in the court had done more underhanded things to snag a titled husband. Just because she looked like an innocent didn’t mean she was one.
Chapter Five
Lady Lillian Tapper
Lord Kendrick was furious, and I couldn’t blame him. I had run the emotional gamut in a matter of minutes. The stunningly handsome man standing beside me must think I was a bedlamite. It was difficult to maintain eye contact with him. His face was chiseled from the finest marble, and his lashes were thick and sooty. I could dive into the blue depths of his eyes and never leave.
“I don’t intend to blackmail you, per se. Let us call it a mutual bargain.” Every sentence I uttered was a chore. I had to dig from deep inside me to continue with the thread of the conversation.
“Go on.” His angled jaw tight, he stared hard at me. The solicitousness of seconds before had disappeared. I couldn’t say I blamed him. My needs would override his.
“My story is a love triangle between Ophelia, Lord Golden, and the dark knight.” Embarrassment had taken hold of my core, and I was suffering from bouts of heat and chills. I had a nervous constitution, and it was difficult for me to talk to men, especially a man with his commanding physical presence. “I presented it to Moran, and he said, well, he said he didn’t like her name, and he wanted the characters to fornicate.” The last word came out in a whisper.
“Beg pardon?” he asked, leaning in closer to me. I caught the woodsy aroma of sandalwood soap and another earthy scent thatI couldn’t identify. In profile, he had a Roman nose and a firm jaw. Regal and masculine, he was an impressive figure.
“He said he wanted the characters to fornicate,” I said more forcefully. If I was going to be convincing, I had to project confidence. It was difficult, given my inability to speak my mind when I desperately wished to.
“Lord Golden, the dark knight, and Ophelia—Lady X, now I suppose—together? Or Lady X and the dark knight together, then Lady X and Lord Golden together. Or Lord Golden and the dark knight together?” he asked, a smile dimpling his cheeks as he rattled off each scenario. I was pleased to see the sternness of his countenance dissipate. He’d a right to be upset with me. I would have been shocked if he hadn’t been. His good humor was contagious, and my nerves calmed even more in his company.
“Lady X? I like that. Do you mind if I use it?”
“I don’t mind at all.”
I nodded, pleased that he granted me permission. “It’s very mysterious. Moran indicated that all of the situations would appeal to his select clientele. Had I gone to see him before I saw you in the garden, I would have had no clue what he was talking about.” The chills eclipsed the heat, and I rubbed my hands over my arms. All afternoon, I kept vacillating between giving up on my writing endeavor or gaining his help.
His request for an introduction had taken the decision from my hands. My mother had been thrilled, and even if I wished to beg off from meeting him, she would have forced me into his company. She’d never given up on finding me a suitor, no matter how difficult it had become.
“All of the scenarios might appeal to the right audience. How do you propose to write these scenes? Surely you do not wish me to coauthor your book. My free time is minimal, and I’m horrible at storytelling.” Suspicion furrowed his brow, along with unrest.
My passion in life was writing. No one could take that from me. “No, I’ll write the scenes. I just need to experience the act once for reference. Once I know how things are done, I can allow my imagination to take over.”
“You wish for me to bed you?” This time he burst out laughing.
I glanced behind me, pleased to see my maid was at a respectable distance yet not close enough to hear the gist of our conversation. Humiliation punched a hole in my chest. I wasn’t blind to my own looks. All my life, I had been teased about my appearance. Too tall. Too thin. No bosom. I had heard it all from my sisters and mother as they tried to hide my flaws beneath frilly dresses.
“I’m afraid no is my answer.” He shook his head and rocked back on his heels, genuinely amused. I was mortified.
A couple passed us on the trail, the woman twirling her parasol. The man tipped his hat at me, and when he looked at the duke, he cast him a lazy grin. It was very subtle but hit home a harsh truth.
“Is it because you don’t find me appealing, or women in general? If you find me offensive, I could witness the act with someone more, um, suitable.” I had heard whispers about the writer Oscar Wilde and wondered about it. I was a lady; thus, nobody would tell me why he was considered a degenerate. Many men had other male friends. I never put the two together until I saw the duke touching his model in such an intimate manner.
“I find both forms appealing. A body is a vessel. It’s the soul that makes a person whole,” he said in a more sober vein. He began walking again, and I fell into step with him.
