Chapter 14
You’d better get down to Diamante’s fast. It’s the Parrington girl, and you’re not going to like it.- Tris
Rem mentally went over the note again for the hundredth time as he urged his horse faster through the throngs of carriages clogging the dark streets of London. The sound of hooves and the shouts of those he careened around didn’t pierce his panic, his mind doing somersaults trying to figure out what the devil Tris could have meant by those words.
Diamante’s was a lower gentleman’s club, still catering to the aristocracy, but with fewer scruples than White’s or Brook’s. The term “gentleman” seemed to be used loosely there, and the entertainments tended to be wilder. Rem had patronized the gaming hell more than once, especially in his younger days with the Alliterates. He remembered the loud gaming tables, the raucous drinking, and the members of the demimonde who lurked on the fringes of the establishment, tempting the patrons to indulge in other disreputable pursuits. If something concerning Laura was occurring there, it couldn’t be good, especially at this time of night when innocent misses should have been long abed.
Rem pulled his horse up sharply at the entrance to the club, throwing the reins to a horse tender as he jumped from the saddle. He didn’t stop to adjust his cravat or shake the rain from his greatcoat before barging through the two flamboyantly carved doors. Once inside, he blinked to accommodate the lights that bounced off of sconces and overhead chandeliers. The empty foyer was covered from floor to ceiling in a gaudy combination of Greek and Oriental plasterwork, as if the decorator couldn’t decide which would be enough to entice people further in, so they kept adding more until no space was left.
Rem’s eyes and ears scanned the area. Something was off. All was silent, which never happened in this place of vice. He narrowed his eyes, looking at the archways on either side of the foyer that he knew led to various gaming rooms, refreshments, and show rooms. There was a faint wisp of noise coming from behind a red door at the very end of the long foyer. Immediately, Rem headed for it, the voices growing louder as he wrenched the heavy thing open to a cacophony of noise.
The sight that greeted him made his blood run cold and then quickly turned to a raging boil.
The air was hazy with cigar smoke and a palpable anticipation. A crowd comprised of around three dozen men was jostling and vying to get closer to a central, octagonal wooden dais raised several feet above the rest of the small room. Many of the drunk men were yelling, straining to be heard above the rest of the unruly mob. On the dais stood Laura, dressed in a white silk dress that caressed her figure like a Greek goddess, her pale form glowing in the dim lighting as if she were some sort of angelic sacrifice. Laura’s face was stoic, but Rem saw the way her throat convulsed in a nervous gulp and her fists were clenched in the folds of her gown. Her large green eyes flitted from person to person, the fear in them underscored by the determined set of her jaw. What in the name of all that was holy was she doing?
“Three thousand pounds!”
“Four!”
A man in spectacles lurking with a sheaf of paper and quill in hand near the dais, repeated for the crowd: “I have four thousand pounds, Gentlemen. Do I have five?”
“She’d better know a pretty trick or two for that price,” someone called, and the crowd laughed uproariously. The raucousness encouraged one man to reach up and tug on the hem of her diaphanous gown, causing Laura to stumble out of his reach, almost toppling off the platform before steadying herself. She smoothed her skirts and folded her hands in front of her, as if she were at Almacks rather than this dark, rowdy hell-hole.
The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and his vision grew unfocused for one terrifying moment as realized rushed in.
She was auctioning herself. Here. At Diamante’s gambling hell, in front of every red-blooded rakehell the ton had produced this generation.
Rage unlike anything he had ever known filled his veins, turning his vision red with Laura a pinpoint at the center of it. He attempted to control it, but his body moved forward of its own volition, shoving slavering idiots to either side as he muscled his way towards the dais. Angry shouts followed in his wake, from both strangers and acquaintances alike, but he didn’t care. He was mindless with both anger and panic, knowing that any moment, this could turn ugly. And even if it didn’t, Laura was a moment away from selling herself to the highest bidder without any idea of what that would mean.
How could the situation have come to this? Did she think she had no other option?
He had practically begged her to marry him, for pity’s sake! Rem vowed to disabuse her of whatever idiotic notion had led her to this decision if only he could get her off that damned dais.
He reached the wooden structure as someone upped the bidding war to five thousand.
“Laura,” he barked. She turned, her eyes widening. Rem thought he could hear her visible gulp. “Get off of there,” he growled in tones brooked no argument. “Now.”
She straightened, and Rem’s fear tripled as he saw the stubborn tilt of her chin. “No.”
He didn’t have time for this. He had to get her out of here before…well, he supposed irreparable damage had already been done this night, but damage to her person with this rowdy crowd was still on the table. Literally. “Dammit, Laura, I’m not having this conversation with you. Not here. Come down.” He tried and failed to regulate his tone into something she would respond to.”
“This doesn’t involve you, Lord Rothstone,” she informed him primly, her skirts swirling around her ankles as she turned away.”
“The hell it doesn’t!” he thundered, slamming his hand on the hollow wood.
“Now see here, Sir!” The bespectacled man forced his way through the dense crowd toward him. Others were starting to notice the scene that was taking place near the dais. “This is a business arrangement being conducted. I must insist you leave the premises if you cannot be civil.”
Rem growled, baring his teeth at the smaller man, and watched with satisfaction as he took a step back, eyes wide. “There won’t be any business of this kind taking place tonight. Not with her.”
“I-I’m sorry, My Lord, but the lady has signed a contract.”
Rem prayed for patience as he sighed through his nose. He might have to break this little man’s bones soon. Just for fun. “What sort of contract?”
The crowd around them had quieted significantly, most of the men now paying attention to Remington’s conversation.
“I’m afraid that is priva-”
“What sort of contract?” Rem said softly, leaning over the proprietor.
The man must have known that Rem was at the end of his patience because he wisely didn’t argue, but began speaking rapidly in a breathy voice. “The lady has agreed to become the paid companion of the highest bidder. She cannot renege once a bid has been placed and must remain in the agreement for a minimum period of one year or she must pay back the bidding price and any further monies spent during the contract. The bidder agrees to pay the lady the bidding amount each year on this date if the agreement continues. Ten percent of the agreed upon price goes to the house for facilitating the agreement.” He pushed his spectacles up his nose and swallowed.
“Seems reasonable to me,” a leisurely voice chimed in. Rem looked to his left, where Trent Arberley stood smirking, leaning on his customary ruby-studded cane, surrounded by compatriots who seemed like they weren’t sure which side to take. “The…lady… has made her choice, Rothstone. After opening her legs to you, any of us would be better, apparently,” he drawled, eliciting chuckles from the men around him. The rest of the room stayed silent, watching the exchange.
“And yet,” Laura piped up from her pedestal, standing erect as a queen over her subjects, “I’m supremely thankful that you obviously aren’t in a position to be bidding.”
Rem snorted in spite of himself.
“Hear, hear,” a man commented wryly. Rem saw Treadstone a few feet away and nodded at his friend. If it hadn’t been for him contacting Rem when he did…
“You little whore,” Arberley snarled, taking off his pristine gloves and handing his cane to a nearby dandy. “You aren’t worth the wood you stand on. You should be grateful that a man like me even-”
But he didn’t get to finish his sentence before Rem’s fist found his face, the blow knocking the other man out cold on the soiled carpet beneath their feet.
The proprietor squeaked and fluttered his hands. Murmurs swept the room, but not one person bent to help the man.
Rem smiled. At least something good had come of this debacle. He turned back to the small man at his elbow who was close to hyperventilating. “You will release the lady from her contract immediately.”
“It’s-It’s n-not up to me,” he peeped, the sheaf of paper trembling in white-knuckled terror.
“Then what will it take?” Rem snapped.
“I’m right here, Lord Rothstone,” Laura huffed. “And I don’t need your misplaced chivalry.”
Teeth clenched, Rem continued speaking to the proprietor. “Sir?”
“There has already been a bid placed, My Lord. It m-must be honored.”
Rem didn’t blink, but simply asked, “How much?”
The man wiped a drop of sweat from his forehead and consulted his betting book. “The current bid is…five thousand pounds, My Lord.”
“And now it is ten,” he announced flatly. His eyes scanned the room of murmuring spectators. “Would anyone like to top my bid?” His tone made it clear that if anyone dared do so, he would lay them out flatter than Arberley, who still hadn’t moved from his awkward position on the floor.
No one said a word.
He nodded.
“No!” Laura stepped to the edge of the dais. “I won’t let you do this.”
“It’s not up to you,” Rem informed her, signing the document that would finally let this disaster end and nearly deplete his entire yearly income.
“This was all to keep you out of it!” she cried, kneeling down on the structure, her hands laying dejectedly in her lap.
Rem turned his head to her, shoving the papers back at the man. Fury still coursed through his veins, and the tears glistening in her green eyes didn’t deter him. “Did you or did you not agree to leave with the man that paid the highest bid?”
She sniffed, her lips trembling. “Yes,” she whispered. She had the grace to look chagrined, though she met his eyes steadily.
“Then it is done.” And with that, he reached for her, ignoring her yelp as he drug her from the dais and slung her over his shoulder. Her protests didn’t even register as his only thought was getting her out of the room and away from the blatant stares of the men. Aware that the crowd had erupted in shouts on all sides, he noted some of them as cheers, some outrage at the abrupt end of the proceedings. Rem stepped over Arberley’s prone form and strode from the room, the commotion behind him already forgotten.
“Put me down this instant!” Laura shrieked, trying to reach out and grab something as they passed the doorway to the foyer. “You have no right to-”
“Correction,” Rem interrupted. “I bought and paid for it, Madam.” He gave her a pat on her bum as he said it, causing her to gasp and struggle even harder.
“I hate you,” she hissed, and Rem could hear the tears in her voice.
“So be it.” He was past caring about her emotions at the moment, but he knew her words would eat at him later.
Rem reached the front door of the bawdy establishment and trailed down the steps to deposit Laura soundly on his horse. Gypsy whinnied at the sudden awkward burden, but stayed where he was as Rem swung up behind her. He nudged the great horse to action, taking pleasure in the sudden weight of her hips against his as she sought to settle herself more securely.
He wanted to get her as far away as possible from the cursed gambling hell, but he didn’t immediately head straight for her residence. He needed to find out what was in her fool head that had led to this debacle. Steering his mount down the street and into a nearby alley, Rem swung himself down and then pulled Laura to the ground as well, not caring there were sounds and smells here that a lady should never have to experience. It was dark, and only the blurry light from upper windows shone gloomily down on them and the heap of rubbish piled at the end of the narrow nook. This part of town was rife with pickpockets and prostitution, but Rem was confident they wouldn’t receive unwanted trouble.
He didn’t waste time with preamble: “Why?”
Laura pulled her arms around herself, shivering, but stayed silent. She didn’t meet his eyes.
Rem grabbed her arms and gave her a single shake. “What’s going on, Laura? What could possibly make you- What would possess you to do such a thing-?”
Laura looked up at him, anger and tears vying in them. “I don’t have to justify myself to you.”
“You little fool. Do you realize what you have done here tonight? What you almost did to yourself?”
“I’m perfectly aware,” she replied airily.
“Oh, are you now?” Rem stepped closer, forcing her to tilt her head more to look at him, but she didn’t step back. He loved that she held her ground with him, but she needed the fear of God put in her tonight. “So you were ready to leave with one of those randy pricks and let him touch you?” He slid his hand up to caress her neck, smiling at the rapid pulse he found there. “Let him do whatever he wanted to you?” he whispered.
Laura gulped. “If necessary.”
“And you would have let him kiss you here?” He lowered his lips to her neck, pressing them against the soft, jasmine-scented skin there. He was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath. “And here…” He moved to the spot just below her jaw as she sighed, the warmth and softness of her as he pulled her into his arms making him lightheaded. “And you would have let him hold you like this?” He pulled back, looking into her wide, dark eyes. “And kiss you like this?” Rem swooped down to invade her mouth, not waiting for her acquiescence. Except that she didn’t put up any resistance, welcoming him like she’d been waiting years to have his tongue wrap itself around hers and feel his lips devour her own.
Drat it, but she felt so good, like water to a dying man in the desert, giving him exactly what he needed. He couldn’t stop touching her, running his hands over her back and down to cup her buttocks and pull her against him. When she moaned into his mouth at the sudden pressure to her loins, he almost spent himself right into his pants at the throaty sound. Before he could, he ripped himself away from her, setting her back against the grimy wall of the alleyway. No doubt her dress would be ruined, but he didn’t care. Catching his breath he stated, “I should have known you were trouble. You won’t even consider me, yet I can’t stay away from you.” His gaze was drawn to where her chest was heaving, the delicate material of the ephemeral dress straining to contain her breasts with their hardened nubs barely discernible in the gloom.
Her face twisted. “You have to stay away.”
He stepped closer and cupped her cheek. “Why?” he whispered.
“Because,” she choked, turning her head into his hand. “We can’t be together now. Not ever.”
The sound of breaking glass and men’s laughter could be heard from somewhere nearby. Gypsy huffed her discomfort at their current surroundings. Rem glanced at the entrance to the street, but saw no activity.
He frowned. “I don’t understand. Is it because of this silly scandal? It will die down. Besides, neither you nor I care a whit about those ridiculous busybodies.”
“It does matter, Rem,” she insisted, shaking her head.
“Why?” he took her hands, willing her to look at him. “London can hang, Laura. We can live in the country. We can travel abroad. Couldn’t you be happy living such?” He tipped her chin up, forcing her luminous eyes to his. The tears he saw there nearly undid him. “I thought you liked the country.”
Her voice was weary as she said, “Our peers would never accept us, Rem. Even with a dukedom. Even in the country. No one will risk associating with us.”
“As I said before, I don’t care if you don’t. Rot them all,” he declared, giving her shoulder a squeeze.
Laura pushed his hands away, her voice rising. “It’s not that simple! It’s not just you and I we have to think about.” Her hands were balled into fists at her sides. “My parents will be ostracized by their friends. Even yours, with all their power, they will be affected. And what about our children, Rem?”
At the mention of children with Laura, his throat tightened. What he wouldn’t give to see little versions of themselves running through his estate, Laura round with his child. Small blonde heads, bright green eyes, and inquisitive little minds, just like hers. It would be perfect.
She continued. “Would you care if they hadn’t any friends? If people whispered about them? If they couldn’t go to Eton or walk down Bond Street without people…without people spitting on them?” her voice broke, referring to the scene in the church.
Rem growled, turning from her to run a hand through his hair. It still made him see red thinking about that woman’s action towards his sweet Laura, and to think of it happening to his children… He shook his head, unable to see past the dark future she painted. What if she was right? He hadn’t thought of the repercussions beyond Laura’s present situation. Focusing on convincing her to give him a chance had blinded him to the reality that awaited them should they choose one another. Or perhaps he knew all along and hadn’t let himself think it, denying the truth that would shatter his soul because it meant not being with her.
He turned back towards her, determination making lines from his lips. “There must be a way. I won’t give up.”
She looked like a dejected angel, standing there, her white dress fluttering at the hem while the rest of the world encroached with its darkness. Her voice held a note that he’d never heard from her before: defeat. “Oh, Rem,” she sighed, her head downcast as she leaned against the stone wall. “It’s already over.”
Rem walked back to her, gripping her arms. “This is not over. You and I will never be over. Do you understand?” His eyes bore into hers, refusing to let the sadness he saw there creep into him. “You’re mine.”
He bent to capture her lips, feasting on her with a desperation that terrified even himself. This kiss was unlike any he had dared give her before this night, filled with the raw hunger he felt for her every waking moment. It was also filled with the fear of losing her, and so he imprinted himself on her, making her feel every line of him as she clung to his arms. He kissed his way down her neck, reveling in the ragged breaths she drew. Her hands found their way inside his greatcoat, grabbing fistfuls of his linen shirt and pulling it from his breeches. When she finally put her hands on his burning skin, he cursed at the exquisite contact. She roamed the muscles of his back, pulling him towards her, as though she couldn’t get enough of him.
“Rem,” Laura breathed, her head falling back against the stone as he sucked on her earlobe.
The sight of her flushed face and neck, lips swollen with his kisses, nearly stopped his breath. She was glorious. Both angel and temptress, her essence called to him like no other woman ever had. He watched her eyelashes flutter as he skimmed a finger down the side of her neck, following with wet kisses, nipping at the sensitive skin as he went.
He needed to be closer. He needed every inch of her skin against his own. He began sliding the silk material of her skirts up and over her knees, delighted to discover that she wasn’t wearing full-length stockings, but ones that stopped at her calves. Rem wanted to claim her right here, in this dirty place. To make her see just how much she belonged to him and no other. Mindless with the deep-seated urge to be inside her, he grasped her rear and lifted her against the wall, forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist. She gasped as he ground into her, meeting his pervasive thrusts with greedy abandon.
Claiming her mouth again, he set to ravaging her senses in ways that would leave her with no uncertainty as to who she belonged to. The way her plump lips moved against his own set him afire. He knew it was probably too much, too rough for her innocent upbringing, yet she didn’t shy away. She was taking everything he gave and demanding more, pressing her fingers into his shoulder blades and leaving imprints of her crescent-shaped nails in his skin. Her responses, the small mewls and groans, squeezes and caresses, drove him wild. Keeping his hands around the outside of her taut thighs to hold her to him, Rem drove his hips forward, unable to stop himself from seeking her warmth. Layers of clothes separated them, and he yearned to simply tear them out of the way in his quest to make her his.
“I want you. I want to take you right here,” he told her baldly.
Laura didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” she said breathily,
Rem froze, causing her to open her eyes with a dazed look.
“What is it?”
He struggled to get the words out. “You don’t understand how badly I want you right now. You can’t say yes. If you say yes…”
Laura gulped audibly. “What happens then?”
Rem took several breaths, attempting to control the madness that rose at her words. “You’re mine forever. No going back. Once that happens, you will be my wife in truth, if not yet in a church. And that will follow as quickly as I can arrange it. I will make it right, one way or another.”
Laura took a shaky breath. Rem could see the war waging behind her eyes, the ramifications settling in. And gradually, the wild light left her eyes, reason stealing back into her countenance. He wanted to pound his fists on the wall behind her as she cleared her throat, knowing what she would say. “We can’t. I’m sorry.”
Rem was too far gone to let sanity sink back in. “You’re reputation is already in ruins. No one will think any differently of you, even if they were to find out.” He nuzzled her cheek with his nose.
He saw her gaze narrow as he pulled back. “So all of a sudden you understand about my reputation, do you?”
Rem sighed in frustration and lowered her legs to the ground, their stolen moment clearly over. His boot made a tiny splash into a small puddle as he stepped back from her.
Laura didn’t relent. “Don’t you see, Rem? There is nothing either of us can do about it now.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I wish things were different, but…they aren’t. And they never will be.”
He waved his arm dismissively. How could she just give up so easily? “Then hang your reputation.” Gypsy stamped her hoof nearby at the tone of his voice, sensing his emotion. “We’ll be together just like you had intended to be with one of those fools at Diamante’s. We can be happy, Laura.” His voice cracked, exposing the desperation he already knew she saw in him.
Her eyes widened, and he instantly realized the mistake he had made.
“You-” she swallowed convulsively. “You would want me to be your mistress?”
He felt like he was digging his own grave at this point. “I…I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. Ever since I met you, I don’t know which way is up or down, right or wrong.”
Laura shook her head, a tear making its way down her creamy cheek that was still irritated from his stubble. “You would want me to become the very thing you were just furious about? Someone’s paid plaything, always keeping to the shadows, never fully allowed into your life?”
He should flay himself for putting those tears in her eyes, but the she had gotten him all wrong about this. “You know I don’t think of you that way. You know I would treat you like a queen.” He stepped closer, grasping her hands in his. “Like my wife.”
Her hands slid from his, and she looked up at him with emerald eyes that shone as a murky forest in the dark. “It can’t work, and you know it. You will have to have an heir eventually, which means getting married. What then, Rem? Do you expect me to be happy while you marry and go to balls and have children with another woman?”
He bared his teeth in a snarl at the thought of what she described. He could never hurt her like that. She was right, and he knew it. He ran a hand over his face, suddenly weary of the impossibilities of it all. “So what are you saying? That we are helpless in this hand that fate has dealt? That we have absolutely no say in whether or not we are happy?”
“I’m saying…that this isn’t possible. Not anymore. Not for us. Not if we want to protect the people we love. That’s why I did what I did- to protect everyone from my mistakes. Whether it is fair or not, the people I love will suffer if I don’t do something to separate myself from them.”
“This isn’t about them. I love you.” His breath whispered across her face with vehemence. He couldn’t give her up. Not like this.
Her face contorted, eyes shut tight, and Rem nearly lost control himself.
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not?” he asked, touching his forehead to hers.
“Because it only makes it worse.” Rem could hear the tears clogging her voice.
“Fly away with me,” he murmured, cupping the back of her neck and pressing his lips to hers gently. Salty wetness stung his lips, and his heart ached physically at her pain. “We’ll take one of your hot air balloons and float away, never to return.”
Laura’s shoulders trembled as she caught her breath on a sob. He held her as she cried, not willing to show the fear he felt as well. Her sniffles eventually turned to a wry giggle, and she said weakly, “Surely you’ve realized by now that balloons aren’t bound to turn out well for us.”
He squeezed her tighter, briefly letting a smile pass over his face. She could make him smile on the worst of days, he knew, and this had to be one of them.
A lantern being moved from a window above them caused him to realize where they were and how much time had passed. The loss of light threw them both into darker shadow. Not that her reputation was as stake, but Rem knew her parents had to be worried sick by now. “Let’s get you home,” he said pressing a brief kiss to her forehead before handing her up on Gypsy’s sturdy back.
They rode in silence back to Mayfair. Rem didn’t want to cause any more gossip than what had been done already that night, so he watched Laura from across the street as she made her way up the steps of her family’s residence and went inside. Exhausted to his core, he plodded back on Gypsy to his own residence not far away. Sleep claimed his mind as soon as he lay down, drifting into dreams of untouchable angels and doomed hot air balloons.
Awkwardness, Laura was coming to discover, was now her new modus operandi.
Grayson Fennimore had come to call again, seemingly oblivious to the scene that had taken place in the gentlemen’s club two nights before. As he sat close to her on the drawing room settee in her family’s townhome and made conversation about this topic and that, he gave no indication that he had heard a whiff of gossip about the fact that Remington Rothstone had paid for the exclusive rights to her favors in front of fifty witnesses and then carried her off into the night. How could he not have known? Even Gia had heard about it by now, through her brothers, of course. It seemed absurd that Grayson’s determination wouldn’t be dampened by such news, but there was no sign that he cared one way or another.
Laura wished he would just come out and say something- anything- about it. At least to ask her what the situation really was. What sort of man wanted to marry another man’s paid mistress? Her scalp perspired and made her itchy all over thinking about what she perceived as the elephant in the room. Was he as nervous as she? It didn’t seem so, with his low rumbling tone and slow hand gestures as he spoke.
“Mr. Fennimore,” Laura interrupted his recount of a childhood mishap in a pond. She couldn’t take it anymore.
“Yes?” He smiled, showing no annoyance at her disruption.
“Are you- are you aware of the events of the night before last?” She tried to be forthright, as he deserved, but the conversation wasn’t easy, and she bit her lip in apprehension.
He continued to watch her, finally admitting, “Yes. I believe I am somewhat accurately apprised of the situation.”
Laura frowned, meeting his warm golden eyes. “Then why-?”
“Why am I here?”
She nodded.
Fennimore smiled that calm smile that truly did have a reassuring effect on Laura that everything might be alright. He took her hand in his, laying his other hand gently on top. “First of all, third-hand accounts of things are never a good basis on which to judge a person. Secondly, it is clearly not all that it was made out to be since you are obviously not living under the protection of Lord Rothstone, but here, quite respectably, with your parents. To me, that is a positive indication that you are not as ensconced in Rothstone’s grip as is being reported if you have refused to bow to his demands. And frankly, anything other than an outright refusal to see me from you wouldn’t keep me away.”
Her cheeks grew warm under his perusal at her reaction. She honestly didn’t know what to say, as she was beginning to realize that she didn’t deserve this man whatsoever. “It’s not fair to you,” she told him.
His deep voice rumbled through her. “Ah. Well, all is fair in love and war, isn’t it?”
Her heartrate increased, and her blush spread. She looked down at her lap to where he still held her hand. “I don’t believe love was mentioned in our situation. Or war, for that matter.”
He cocked his head. “Shouldn’t it be?”
Laura swallowed and laughed nervously. He seemed so sure of himself. “I can’t claim to be an expert on such matters, as I clearly have mucked up the process thoroughly.”
“Then let me untangle matters for you, as I assure you, it is quite simple to me.” He sat forward, pinning her under his gaze. “I have come to care for you quite deeply, Laura. And I believe that, in time, we would come to love each other, if given the chance.”
Laura wanted to be fair to him. “You sound so sure of everything. I confess, I cannot claim the same certainty. I don’t know if…if the heart is so easily convinced, no matter the circumstances.”
“Would you be willing to let me convince your heart?” he said softly, leaning in. He pressed his lips firmly to hers.
It wasn’t at all terrible, if she was truthful with herself. Grayson’s kiss could even be described as pleasant, his warm lips kneading hers carefully. She could tell that he knew what he was about by the way he gently tried to coax her mouth open for him, but she couldn’t muster an appropriately enthusiastic response. It felt wrong. So wrong that a bubble of panic welled up in her chest and caused her to break away, some nameless fear quickening her breath.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped, scooting back on the cushions.
“It’s alright,” he assured her, grasping her elbow. He looked quite pleased. “It can be overwhelming.”
“Yes,” she agreed, although not for the reasons he thought.
Reginald meowed from his perch on a chair across the room. Grayson looked at the cat and chuckled. “I’m not sure he approves as your chaperone. Perhaps it would be more productive to learn more about each other before letting ourselves get carried away in that regard.”
“That would be preferable. Thank you,” she said, hopefully not too gratefully.
“Gia has told me that you are quite adept at using certain devices. I believe she mentioned a camera of some sort, which produces picture images. I would love to see some of the things you’ve captured using it,” he smiled encouragingly.
She was going to murder Gia. So much for secrets. “Well, it’s not exactly an acceptable pastime for…someone in my position,” she said carefully.
He smiled, his lips curving in a way that reminded her of the kiss she had just participated in. “I don’t think anything you chose to do would be unacceptable. Surely it’s the rest of the world that is under a misapprehension about the nature of the activity.”
Laura laughed. “I couldn’t agree more, Mr.- that is, Grayson,” she corrected herself, feeling he deserved some small gesture for that remark.
“Well? Care to indulge a besotted man with your hobby?” He smiled beseechingly, yet ever calm, as if he would accept any answer she chose to give.
She knew it was unwise, but the temptation to share her plates with someone else was too much. “I’ll be right back,” she told him, quickly dashing from the room.
When she returned to the drawing room, Grayson flipped through the stack of photo plates, asking her where each was taken and how she had managed to achieve the scope of the photographs and the lighting. “These are very good, you know,” he told her, eyebrows raised as he examined a plate depicting a stand of tulips with her childhood home wavering in the background.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. His approval meant quite a lot at the moment. No one else seemed to be lining up to give her compliments these days or even a chance at a simple conversation.
“Do you have any others plates of your time here in London? I noticed you didn’t have very many images of the city. Or is it that the country is simply more picturesque?” He quirked the edge of his lips.
“Actually, it’s more the fact that I’m not supposed to have the device at all that’s the deterrent. In the country, no one is around to see me use it, and even if they did, they probably wouldn’t recognize it. But here…” she shrugged.
Grayson frowned, looking at the plate of tulips. “It seems a shame that something so beautiful must be hidden. Like music- it shouldn’t be wasted on ears that can’t hear its depth.”
Laura smiled. “I think that’s an apt analogy. If only the world would catch up with technology. What a wonderful place it would be!”
“I wasn’t referring to the pictures, Laura,” Grayson said in a low voice.
Laura looked up, startled, to find his golden eyes locked on hers.
After studying her for a long moment, he took a deep breath in through his nose and let it out carefully, looking away. “It seems I am not as patient a man as I had thought,” he admitted ruefully.
Laura didn’t know what to say to that. The uncomfortable feeling of both tentative elation and tendrils of shame flowed through her in equal measures. She didn’t know if she could give this man what he needed. But in time…
“Which is why,” he cleared his throat. “I would like to invite you to my estate for a visit. It’s only an hour’s ride from Mayfair, and I can promise you will have all the privacy you desire to document your time there,” he said, nodding at the plates spread on the tea table before them. “It would be a chance to see if life with me would be…agreeable to you.”
She gulped. “I…I would like that,” she said, a roaring in her ears not quite managing to block out the screams of protest being uttered from her heart.
Not like this. Not this path. Not him.
“Hush,” she murmured.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” Laura smiled.
But the screaming continued.