Candice Hern (6 page)

"It is simple, really." She adjusted her position in the chair and wrapped the shawl about her knees, looking like a young girl full of life, not a dried up widow. Of course she wanted to experience physical pleasure again. She was too vibrant to ignore it. "I have realized there is no reason to sacrifice that aspect of my life, just because I do not wish to marry again. So, I have decided it would be nice to have a lover. I just haven't yet decided who he will be."

Adam understood her needs, and reluctantly applauded her open-minded attitude. Even so, he experienced a tiny glimmer of hope that since no man had been chosen, the whole idea could be squashed before it became a reality. It was a selfish notion, to be sure, but he did not believe he could bear the thought of her in another man's arms. In his mind, she still belonged to David, the finest man Adam had ever known. Marianne had loved him, and he'd been thoroughly besotted with her. Adam had been secretly jealous of their happiness together, the joy they found in each other.

As a witness to that joy, he found this idea of an unknown lover problematic at best.

"Remember when I told you that all of us in the Benevolent Widows Fund had agreed we were content to remain widows? How we enjoyed our independence and were not looking for marriage again?"

"Yes, I remember."

How could he forget? It had been made very clear to him that she would never consider a second marriage. At the time, he thought she must have believed he might make her an offer. Perhaps she imagined that he felt she needed someone to take David's place, and who better than himself? Her announcement about never wanting to marry again had seemed aimed directly at him, to forestall any awkward, and apparently unwanted, declarations.

Adam had never, in fact, considered offering for her. No, that was not entirely true. When he told his father that he was going to seriously consider marriage, Marianne was the first woman to come to mind. But only for an instant. Yes, he had a great deal of affection, even love, for her. But as a friend. She was David's wife to him, and always would be.

Besides, even if Adam thought for one moment that she would entertain an offer from him, he was not sure he wanted it. She had known a great love with David, and would spend the rest of her days grieving for him. Adam was sensible enough to realize that marriage to her would be a constant and unbearable heartbreak, as he knew he could never fill that hole in her life. And even if she allowed him to try, it would always seem a sort of betrayal of David. Like stealing his best friend's wife. Silly, of course, since the man was dead, but there it was.

"Anyway," Marianne continued, "just because I don't wish to marry again shouldn't mean I have to give up ... everything. Should it?" She dropped her gaze and flushed a delightful shade of pink. "I only want a bit of pleasure."

Of course she did. Damn him for a fool for not realizing it sooner. He might not be able to replace David in her life, but he could have offered this. If he were not betrothed to Clarissa, would Marianne have considered him for the part? Would he have offered?

"I do wish you had decided upon this course sooner," he said with a seductive smile as he refilled both their glasses. "What a pity you waited until I had betrothed myself to another woman. Otherwise, I would have been happy to provide you with all the pleasure you could possibly imagine." He gave her a slow wink. "I know a thing or two about pleasing a woman."

She pulled a face and turned away, and he realized that she did indeed know that about him, knew of his history with women.

He'd been very candid over the years in her presence, trusting her with the same confidences he shared with David. He was very much afraid, unfortunately, that she had sometimes heard rather ungentlemanly, even coarse, remarks about the women in his life. He'd had a shocking number of lovers, but he had never had a serious relationship, or one that lasted very long. Most of his liaisons were highly charged sexual encounters that burned out quickly when he became bored. No woman kept his interest for long. In fact, his friendship with Marianne was the longest and most satisfying relationship he'd ever had with a woman.

But to imagine he could take that friendship further was absurd. He was surely the last person she would have considered as a provider of sexual pleasure. He was a fool even to tease her about it. But joking about it was the only possible way to get through this awkward discussion.

That, and more wine. He took another swallow.

Marianne looked up at last and smiled. "I am very much aware of your expertise," she said, dimples twinkling at him, charming him, "which is why I feel bold enough to admit my plan to you. I would like your advice."

He stifled a groan. "Advice?"

"Who better to help me find the right man to show me the full pleasures of physical love?"

Dear God.

"And who better to instruct me in the most effective way to entice such a man ... into my bed?"

It was too much. He emptied the decanter into his glass and tossed back the wine in a single swallow.

"Who better than a man of the world. A man of vast experience in such matters. A man like you."

Who indeed?

* * *

"You want me to help you find a lover?"

Put so bluntly, it did sound rather ridiculous. Marianne suddenly felt very foolish for even mentioning the idea. What had possessed her to do such a thing? She still could hardly believe she'd decided on this course. But in her mind's eye she had seen Penelope's glowing face on one side and Lavinia's dark martyrdom on the other. There was no question about which of the two faces she wanted to wear.

"Forgive me, Adam. I should not have asked. I just thought ..."

What had she thought? That he'd do exactly what he teased her about? That he would step in and do the job, providing her with "all the pleasure she could possibly imagine?" She was quite sure he could have followed through on such a promise. One had only to look in those green eyes to know it. She was almost glad his betrothal precluded such an arrangement. He knew her well enough to realize she would never seek intimacy with another woman's man.

"You thought I was your friend and would help you, as friends do. So, how can I help you?"

She was not entirely sure. But since the last meeting of the Fund trustees, she realized she was not as experienced in the bedroom as she had thought. She did not even know what she did not know. And that was what excited her about this whole business. What would it be like to be physically intimate with a man again, intimate in ways she could not even imagine? It sometimes thrilled her to think of it, but just as often frightened her.

"Well." How to begin? How to say what she wanted to say without dying of mortification? "You see, David is the only man I ... well, you know. I never ..." She felt her cheeks flame with embarrassment. She could not believe she was having this conversation. "Oh, Adam, I just don't know how to go about this. I don't know who would be a good ... who would know how ..." She pounded a fist against the chair arm. "Damn it all, I don't know anything. I don't know how to find the right man."

Adam shook his head. "If you expect me to tell you which man would make the best lover, then you're out, Marianne. I'm sorry, but that is asking too much. How should I know something like that? You'd be better off asking another woman." He grinned. "The duchess, for example."

She had thought about talking to Wilhelmina, but became too tongue-tied to do so. And yet here she was, having just such a conversation with Adam.

"You are right. I shouldn't be bothering you. It's just ... well, it's not all about what a man does in the bedroom."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Is it not? I thought that was the whole point."

"Yes, but I also need a man who will be discreet. I don't want my name bandied about at the clubs or, God forbid, mentioned in the betting books. I would like my privacy respected."

"A gentleman of honor, then," he said. "I would expect nothing less. And what else?"

"I do not want a man with an eye to marriage, or an eye on my fortune. It must be someone willing to accept me on my own terms."

"A physical relationship only?"

"For the most part. No entanglements."

"A man of the world, one who covets your body but not your fortune." His hooded gaze followed the line of her hips and thighs, sending a sudden flush of heat through her veins. "That should not be difficult. And what else?"

Damn the man for looking at her like that. She had become much more aware lately of the words and looks and touches that passed between men and women. She had known Adam most of her life, knew him to be a seducer of women, but he had never turned those bedroom eyes on her in such a provocative way.

Or had she just never noticed?

She gathered her composure and smiled at his feigned insolence. "Well, it would be nice if he was handsome, of course."

He laughed. "Of course. A handsome gentleman of honor with some skill between the sheets who is content with an uncomplicated affair. The field narrows. And what else? A man of fashion?"

"I do not think that is important. He should be presentable and clean, naturally, but I doubt a man overly concerned with his wardrobe would be an appropriate candidate."

"Quite right. No pinks of the
ton
. Too absorbed in themselves to do right by a woman. What about fortune?"

"That should not be a consideration."

"And age?"

"Hmm. I had not thought of it. I suppose it would not serve the purpose for him to be in his dotage."

"Certainly not. The fellow must be able to perform, after all. And an old roué would not suit you." He gave an exaggerated shudder. "So, we are looking for a gentleman who is handsome, discreet, and not given to dandified ways, who offers no entanglements, and is still vigorous enough to satisfy a woman's needs. Have I got it right so far?"

She grinned and realized that he had put her entirely at ease by making a game of the whole business. "Yes, that sounds about right to me. And also —"

"Egad, there's more? My dear, if you become too particular in your tastes, you risk narrowing the field to the point where there is no man left standing."

"But, Adam, this hypothetical man and I will spend a great deal of time together, and not just in the bedroom. There ought to be more than just ...
that
, shouldn't there? I would like a man I can talk to, a man who has a way with women, a man I can enjoy being with."

A man like you
.

"A gentleman with both conversation and charm." She nodded. "Yes, that's it."

"A tall order, my dear. And, of course, none of it matters if the chap is not also a skillful lovemaker. Correct?"

"Yes, I suppose that's true. Oh, Adam, I know it sounds foolish and you are merely teasing me, but I just want ..."

She could not admit it aloud, not to Adam, but she wanted that excitement and passion Penelope talked about. She wanted what her friends had experienced. Just once in her life.

* * *

Adam knew what she wanted, probably better than she did. And yet, out of sheer perversity, he seemed determined she should not have it. What man could possibly be worthy of her? And how could any man hope to measure up to David Nesbitt, who was no doubt as talented and skillful in the bedroom as he was at everything else he did?

Poor Marianne was doomed to disappointment.

Adam did not lack confidence in his own sexual prowess, and thought he just might be able to best the memory of David in that particular arena. Now that it was impossible to put that confidence to the test, he was strangely loath to see any other man make the attempt.

"All teasing aside," she said, "would you be willing to advise me on whether certain men would ... meet my needs?"

"You have someone in mind?"

"Actually, I have a list."

"Good God, a list? Damnation, Marianne, this will require more wine. Do you by chance have another bottle at hand?"

"You know where to find it."

He did indeed. She still kept it in the deep bottom drawer of the kneehole desk in the corner, where David had always kept a ready supply. Adam retrieved a bottle and uncorked it. Without bothering to decant it — this business of a list of potential lovers could not wait for such niceties — he carried the bottle with him and set it on the candlestand between them. He topped off her glass before refilling his own.

After taking a restorative swallow of claret, he said, "You have a list."

She reached for the book she'd tucked beside the seat cushion and retrieved a folded sheet of paper from between the pages. "I jotted down a few names. What do you think of Lord Peter Bentham?"

Devil take it, he was going to have to think fast. "Bentham? Younger son of Worthing? Big, strapping chap with yellow hair?"

"Yes, that's him."

"I would steer clear of that one if I were you."

"Why?"

"I've heard the fellow has a hot temper and a violent streak."

"Lord Peter? I can hardly believe it. He seems like such a kind gentleman."

"Appearances can be deceiving. Most fellows are on their best behavior in public, especially around females. But one hears talk in the clubs. I would be uneasy if I thought you were involved with a man like Bentham. For my peace of mind, may we cross him off the list?"

"All right." Her voice was tinged with disappointment. Had she really been attracted to that great hulking oaf?

"Who's next?"

"Sir Dudley Wainfleet."

He chuckled softly. "You'll have no success there, my dear."

"Why not?"

"Just between you and me, the man is not particularly interested in women."

Her eyes widened. "You mean ..."

"Precisely. Cross him off. Who's next?"

"Robert Plimsoll."

He shook his head and laughed. "It is a good thing you sought my advice on this list of yours."

She lifted her chin at a challenging angle. "Is there some objection to Mr. Plimsoll?"

"Only that he keeps a mistress and their five children in a house in Hampstead."