His lips pressed to the side of her neck, making her breath hitch, heat coursing through her body. “Would you think differently?”
“I would,” she insisted, though it felt like a lie. And when she felt the tip of his tongue flick over her pulse, she felt like she was about to burst, a slight whimper leaving her lips.
What is he doing to me?
Though she didn’t know what to think of his movements, she wanted more. He breathed excitement into her life, possibilities she didn’t know were there. Now, when he was this close, when she could feel his touch and memorize the musky scent that clung to him, it was impossible to remember how to resist him.
He chucked, his breath ghosting against her ear as he leaned in close, whispering, “This is just a business proposal, but if you ever wish for it to be more than that, you only need to say the word.”
The word was on the tip of her tongue as he pulled back and stared at her, the heat in his gaze making it clear he was waiting for her permission. She wanted to give him that consent.Sheneededto give him that approval just so she could feel something other than the hopelessness about her life that had taken residence in her chest.
Isobel leaned into him just a little, her hands on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her fingers. Then she pushed him away. “I won’t beg you.”
“Not yet you won’t,” he murmured smugly. “But once we’re married...”
Instead of surging forward for a kiss, he lifted a hand and brushed his thumb slowly along the curve of her ear. The touch was maddeningly gentle, and his fingers grazed her earlobe before trailing—slowly, torturously—down the line of her ear. A heartbeat later, he was at her clavicle.
And then, as if her mind came crashing back to her body, she went back a step, missing his touch immediately. “This is a mistake.”
The corner of his mouth twitched as want burned bright in his eyes. “That will be the first and last time you call what is between us a mistake. If you accept my proposal, you won’t have to refuse yourself the pleasure we both know you’re aching for right now.”
Isobel stared at him as his hand dropped from her face, a tremble still running through her body even after his touch was done.
“If you think I can give you an answer in this moment, then you think too highly of yourself.”
“Oh, I assure you, I think very highly of myself at all times.” That boyish smile took over, sending her heart rushing like horses at the races.
How could one person be so infuriating and charming all in the same breath?
“I cannot be expected to give you an answer right now,” she insisted, her voice nearly a plea.
There still had to be another way out of this, but even then, she knew the best option she had would be to marry him. To give him the stability he needed, and to ensure Father never hurt Joan. The threat of the Duke of Foxdrey revoking his kindness would be too great.
The Duke studied her for a moment, his gaze flickering over her face like he could see all the emotions passing through her mind. “Of course not. You have three days.”
Seven
Andrew fingered the lush curtains that lined the walls of the Mayfair Fox, muffling the sound from the groupings of men gathered around tables, eager to bet away their savings.
He moved through the throng of people closest to the door, nodding to one man and smiling at another. However, when he got deeper into the club, passing close to the bar, it was empty.
My reputation has taken its toll.
Once, not long ago, there was a time when all the tables in the Mayfair Fox had been full. When men would come and go, open in their vices. Mayfair Fox had been the favored gambling house in theton.
And now, due to his lascivious behavior, it was falling out of favor. The tables were emptier this Season than they had been the last.
There was a chance that he was going to save it though. After his conversation with Isobel, he was certain that she would see the reason in his offer. That she would take him up on it because she truly had no other options.
It might be wrong to prey on her situation in such a way, but the way he saw it, they were both going to benefit from his actions. She would escape her father, he could help protect her sister, and he would have a duchess to repair his reputation.
He and Isobel could both benefit; she just needed to see that.
“Annette,” Andrew said, nodding to the woman in her office who was responsible for the club when he was not there—at least on the rare occasions he wasn’t. She was the widow of the Earl of Holford, with a knack for business and numbers and even more skill in dealing with drunkards and sour men. Some had criticized him for hiring a woman for this role, but Andrew was not one to obey rules. Perhaps this was one move that made the clients less inclined to visit the Mayfair Fox—but Andrew trusted Lady Holford, and they had a quiet understanding.
“Business been good tonight?” he asked.
“It has been, Your Grace,” Annette replied. “None of the men have been making trouble tonight, though I suspect that might change—Lord Dalton is here.”
