It ought to have eased him more than it did, but the friction wasn’t enough to take his mind off his present circumstances. He’d entered this betrothal not only as a means to obtain the funds to pay Malum but also believing it would be a wise business decision.
But that was before he’d met Allison. Stubborn, delightful, Allison with her midnight blue eyes and sumptuous mouth.
Despite her visit this afternoon, taking advantage of her was the one strategy he refused to utilize to obtain her consent.
Edgewood had suggested it, but Hunt wasn’t the sort to debauch a schoolgirl to accomplish his ends.
That type of behavior was more in line with his father’s character, and Hunt might be a lot of things, but he wasn’t anything like his father.
Not if he could help it, by God.
She doesn’t act like a schoolgirl. The thought taunted him as he imagined her lips.
But perhaps that was due to her unusual upbringing. He couldn’t be sure.
As the heir to an earldom, he’d been careful not to become overly friendly with eligible ladies of his acquaintance. Gentlemen of his position kept a safe distance from those.
Allison, the daughter of a successful businessman rather than a titled gentleman, would have been raised differently. Hunt ought not to have expected her to be like other debutantes.
No, she was uniquely enticing.
She was pretty, with delicate features, eyes that reminded him of the sea at night, and a sweet, yielding figure, but there was something else. She stirred him up in ways that could ultimately interfere with his end goal. Although he’d been pleased upon being introduced to her, the fact that he wanted her not only for her father’s money but for other, somewhat personal reasons may, in fact, have put him at a disadvantage.
It raised the stakes, so to speak.
Convincing the vapid, title-hungry chit he’d imagined Meadowbrook’s daughter to be to marry him would, no doubt, have proven less difficult.
And yet, Allison liked him. She’d admitted it, and then she’d enthusiastically welcomed his kiss. Damn right she had.
Hunt continued stroking himself over the wool of his pants, recalling how she’d arched her body against him, imagining the feel of her fingers in his hair, the taste of her skin on his lips.
He had not lied when he’d admitted to wanting to kiss her even before he’d realized who she was.
She’d confessed to feeling the same.
So why was she resisting him? Was Edgeworth right? Did she simply need to be romanced?
Any woman raised in her circumstances would have grown up knowing her father’s fortune would be a considerable factor regarding her marriage prospects. She’d be foolish to resent him for that.
He dropped his hand and exhaled, entirely unfulfilled. At the same time, the liquor cabinet caught his gaze. If he could hop on one leg, he could cross the room easily enough. Down a few pours there and then hop back.
He could crawl if necessary.
That image, however, revealed the depths to which he’d fallen.
Romance her.
Allison was female, after all, and as such, Hunt ought to have expected her to require extensive wooing.
He contemplated abandoning his efforts and finding some other, amenable chit, for all of twenty seconds. Cut his losses, so to speak.
There were other chits with hefty dowries—none as substantial, of course. Furthermore, Hunt was running out of time. The memory of his meeting with the duke in the dark and mysterious halls of The Domus Emporium had him just as quickly dismissing the notion.
Malum had made his stance perfectly clear. For the losses incurred by Hunt’s father, and as penalty, he expected the entirety of the payment in a matter of days.
By February 3rd, which, as his friends had so helpfully pointed out, was fast upon him.
The throbbing in his lower head was replaced with the throbbing in the one that sat upon his shoulders.
