A Rogue for All Seasons (Weston Family) (15 page)

F
ROM HIS ROOMS ON
J
ERMYN
Street, Henry had an easy walk to Lansdowne House, which stood at the southern end of Berkeley Square. Actually, the garden of Lansdowne House
was
the southern end of Berkeley Square. A high brick wall surrounded the property, and a liveried guard opened the gate at Henry’s approach. Once inside the opulent mansion, he gave his card to the butler.

He wasn’t certain just what reception he expected upon his arrival, but he
had
expected to be… expected. From the surprised expression on the butler’s face, however, Henry quickly surmised this wasn’t the case. The butler quickly recovered and, after dispatching a footman to inform Miss Merriwether of her caller, he escorted Henry to an extravagantly gilded and painted room.

“Extravagant” described Lansdowne House perfectly, and Henry was a man accustomed to excess. He’d been inside the ducal mansion a time or two, along with several hundred other guests. Now, alone in one of the rooms, he saw the true scale of the place, and the luxury evident in every detail. Perhaps he should have dressed for a royal audience rather than a ride in the Park.

As he waited, he realized the butler wasn’t the only one surprised by his arrival. He glowered at the flowers in his hand for close to twenty minutes before a rosy-cheeked Diana hurried into the room and dropped a curtsy. “Mr. Weston, I apologize for keeping you waiting. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone.”

Henry stood and bowed. “I did say I would call on you, did I not?” He held out the bouquet of day lilies.

“Oh, how lovely!” A genuine smile graced her face as she came forward to take the flowers. He felt a stab of jealousy that her happiness was due to the flowers, rather than his presence, but he told himself that was ridiculous.

Diana’s eyes closed as she lifted the bouquet to her face and inhaled. “Thank you,” she said softly when she lowered the flowers. “I should have readied myself, but I believed you would come to your senses.”

“Come to my senses?” Henry didn’t like that sound of that.

“Mr. Weston, what a pleasant surprise.” Diana’s mother glided into the room.

“Lady Linnet.” Henry bowed in greeting, his expression giving away none of his aggravation at her untimely entrance. “Will you persuade your daughter to walk in the garden with me? We discovered last evening that we are reading the same book, and I hoped to continue our conversation.” He gave Lady Linnet the grin that never failed to charm women, but there was no answering smile.

Instead, Lady Linnet regarded him with disbelief, which he supposed he deserved. The probability of Diana and him reading the same book was highly unlikely, given that he hadn’t read a novel since
The Monk
. What a disappointment that had been! It contained enough debauchery and damnation that he could overlook the ridiculous plot, but there hadn’t been any illustrations—not a single erotic etching or wicked woodcut, and that was inexcusable. What was the good of an immoral book without pictures?

As if she could tell the direction his thoughts had taken, Lady Linnet narrowed her eyes. “Provided you stay within sight of the house, I see no reason why you and Diana may not take a brief turn outside. Run upstairs and fetch your straw hat, Diana.”

Diana was clearly hesitant to leave him alone with her mother. She cast worried looks over her shoulder as she went out of the room.

“You and my daughter have grown quite familiar of late, Mr. Weston.” Displeasure rang through every word.

Belatedly, Henry realized Diana’s concern hadn’t been for her mother, but for him.

“Your daughter is an excellent companion, my lady. Any gentleman would be fortunate to spend time with her.” He spoke the words with absolute sincerity.

Lady Linnet unbent a trifle. “Very true. I understand it’s your plan to make other gentlemen realize this as well?”

Henry choked.
She had told her mother?

“Do not die on my account. Yes, Diana told me something of your scheme, but she was convinced you would think better of it. May I understand from your presence here that you wish to go ahead with this courtship?”

“I do. My lady, I wouldn’t have asked Miss Merriwether to help me if I didn’t truly believe I could help her in return.”

She sighed. “I can’t say whether your plan will work, but neither can I dismiss it outright, much as I might wish. Gentlemen of your reputation are not the company a mother wishes for her daughter.”

“Whatever you have heard—” Henry began.

She held up a hand. “Mr. Weston, I know not to blindly believe whatever gossip is spread around, but I also know most rumors have some shred of truth at their core. They rarely grow from nothing. You are an attractive young man. It would be surprising if you had no misdeeds to your name. I simply wish to keep my daughter from being one of them.”

Henry no longer questioned his mother’s friendship with this woman. Terrifying, the both of them. “I will concede that my reputation is not wholly undeserved, but I’m a man of my word. I promise you I would never intentionally do anything to hurt Miss Merriwether.”

She regarded him for a long moment and then nodded. “I believe your intentions are good. Let us hope they do not pave the way to hell.”

Diana came back into the room then, saving Henry from having to reply. She tied the ribbons of her wide-brimmed hat under her chin, her gaze darting back and forth between him and her mother, as if looking for visible signs of a fight.

Henry smiled reassuringly and extended his arm to her. “Shall we, Miss Merriwether?”

Diana laid her hand on his arm, her touch as light and delicate as that of a butterfly. He placed his free hand over hers, anchoring her to him. He inclined his head in Lady Linnet’s direction. “My lady.”

“Good day, Mr. Weston. Take care that you’re not in the sun too long, Diana.”

Henry remained quiet until he and Diana were in the garden, strolling along a winding path that skirted the oblong drive. “I wish you hadn’t told your mother about our arrangement.”

She shook her head. “We have no arrangement, Mr. Weston. I have not agreed.”

“Yet,” he amended her statement. “You haven’t agreed
yet
.”

“Yes, and before I do,
you
must agree to something.”

“Go on,” he urged.

“No other women. I’ve spent enough of my life as the subject of pitying glances and hushed whispers. I won’t be humiliated that way again if I can help it.”

“I can be discreet—”

“No.” She tugged her arm from his. “If you can’t go without a woman for a few months, you should find another woman to pretend to court.”

For a moment, he was tempted. There had to be another woman in London who would agree to his plan without making him take a vow of abstinence. But he couldn’t ignore the challenge she unwittingly posed. He was perfectly capable of going months without feminine companionship. That he hadn’t done so in over a decade meant nothing.

This wasn’t painting or music; he would not fail here. He would succeed if he truly tried, and he wanted the stud badly enough to try. Diana Merriwether would solve his problems with both his mother and Lord Parr, Henry reminded himself. Finding another woman or a different solution altogether would take time he didn’t have. Besides, he found he very much wanted to prove Diana wrong.

“Very well, no other women,” he agreed, bidding a silent farewell to the little dancer who had recently warmed his bed. He’d already begun to lose interest in her, and she likely wouldn’t have lasted much longer, even without Diana’s edict. “Have you any other concerns?”

She cocked her head, peering up at him from under the wide brim of her hat. “Have you considered that our courtship might not contribute to my popularity as much as irreparably damage yours?”

He considered the scenario she presented for the barest moment, and then dismissed it. “That won’t happen. Before I forget, you’re to pay a call on one of my sisters in the next couple of days. You have your choice of Isabella or Olivia, though I suspect you will see both, whomever you pick.”

She kicked at a stone in the path. “The Weston family will not only provide me with the pretense of a suitor, but the illusion of friends as well.”

He ignored the little show of temper and walked on. “Between the attentions I mean to pay you over the next several evenings, combined with my call this afternoon, and your upcoming visit with my sisters, people will take notice. Within a week, all the gossip columns will have reported our courtship and, within a fortnight, you won’t know what to do with all of your suitors.”

“You think so highly of your charms?”

“I think so highly of
yours
. And I’ll have you know,” he said archly, “that both Isabella and Olivia are most impatient to speak with you.”

“Do they know about us? Our arrangement, I mean.”

“More or less.” He had spoken with them briefly last night, before leaving the Kelton party. “They want to be certain your intentions are good and you will not wound my male pride or break my tender heart.”

“I doubt I am capable of even bruising your male pride. As for the other, we agreed there would be no broken hearts, did we not?”

He smoothed his thumb over the back of her hand. He meant the gesture to be comforting, but her sharp intake of breath sent his thoughts racing back to the previous evening. To their bodies, so perfectly aligned, every inch of her pressed against him. To the sweet, rich taste of her. To the images of her long legs wrapped around him that had filled his mind, even while he had been buried in another woman. He snatched his hand away.

She looked at him questioningly. “Is something the matter?”

“No! I—I need to check the time.” He patted his fob pocket only to realize he hadn’t worn a watch. And something
was
the matter. He’d lusted after Diana Merriwether.

Again.

Last evening, he’d thought it a fluke. Even a second lapse was excusable, he’d told himself as he gathered his clothes in the dark and left the small, sparse room in the Haymarket for his own cold, empty bed. But this lusting was becoming routine, and that worried him. What worried him even more was the way his chest felt tight when she worried that his being with her might harm his reputation.

“Do you have somewhere you need to be?” she asked.

“No. Why?”

“You were looking for your watch.”

“I wanted to be certain not to keep you too long in the sun,” he claimed. “Your mother likes me little enough as it is.”

Diana wandered to the side of the path and stared down at the flowers. “You remind her of my father,” she said softly. “He owns a stud. You’ve likely heard of Swallowsdale Grange.” She spoke the name wistfully. “That was where we lived before…” She faltered.

“Before your parents separated.”

She nodded and faced him. “Like you, he is tall, handsome, and too charming for anyone’s good. He was a performer, you know, before he worked for my grandfather. He traveled on the Continent doing trick-riding. His tumbling gave my mother fits. She said he took five years off her life with every headstand.” She fiddled with the wide ribbons beneath her chin. “Whatever rumors you’ve heard, I swear to you, my mother was never unfaithful.”

“I believe you,” he said solemnly. In truth, he had no idea if Lady Linnet was innocent, but the evidence existing against her couldn’t have been too damning or, duke’s daughter or no, Society would never have taken her back.

“I thought, because of last night… because of what happened… between us…” Her cheeks were as crimson as the roses they walked past. “I don’t wish my behavior to reflect poorly on my mother,” she said in a rush.

Henry caught hold of her hand. “I’m not entirely certain what you just said, but I’m prepared to forget it since I suspect it will only make me cross. I’m not particularly pleasant when I’m cross, Miss Merriwether, so think carefully before you answer. Are you ashamed of kissing me?”

Henry had long ago accepted that women were more emotional creatures than men were. He expected, therefore, that when he kissed a woman, though he might experience only one emotion, namely lust, she could feel a wide range of emotions, all in close pursuit. But he did not expect shame to be one of those emotions. Women were not
ashamed
to kiss him.

He would accept Diana’s shock and confusion at what had passed between them. He would even accept that she might feel embarrassed by her passionate response to him. But shock and embarrassment were different from shame. Shame was like guilt. It ate away at the soul, and he wouldn’t accept it from Diana.

Her gaze fixed on his hand, holding hers. “I ought to be. I behaved terribly.”

“No worse than I,” he pointed out. “Then you’re not ashamed?”

She looked up, meeting his eyes. “I comfort myself with the knowledge that given the legions of women you’ve seduced, I had little chance of resisting your charms.”

“Legions?” He burst out laughing. “You greatly exaggerate my prowess. I have not seduced above half the women in London.”

“Half?”

He nearly kissed her then, but a movement in one of the upper windows of the house caught his eye. A near save. He reached out and tweaked her nose instead.

“I’m teasing you, Diana.” He shook his head. “Half the women in London,” he muttered. “Come along. I daresay you’ve been in the sun long enough if you believe me capable of that.”

“Why do you call me Diana sometimes and other times Miss Merriwether?” she asked as they started back toward the house.

“I can’t make up my mind as to who you are,” Henry answered truthfully. “I’ve known Miss Merriwether for years, and she’s a shy, proper miss who wouldn’t say boo to a goose. Diana, on the other hand, is something of a vixen. She accuses me of being a rogue and seducing half the women in London, and I’d wager there’s a temper lurking beneath that red hair.”

“Miss Merriwether sounds exceedingly dull, and Diana sounds like a termagant,” she huffed.

“Don’t speak ill of Diana,” he scolded. “I’m growing fond of her sharp tongue. She keeps me on my toes. I like Miss Merriwether, too. Something about all that buttoned-up propriety makes a man wonder what is hiding beneath. It’s exciting, really, courting two women at the same time.”