Mary Blayney - [Pennistan 03] (29 page)

If he asked her to help him, it was possible that they could put the chaise in the parlor to good use. To that end he left his cravat loosely tied and imagined using it to pull her to him. He checked the clock and decided that he had all the time he needed.

That might work today, but what about tonight, tomorrow morning, after dinner? The one thing he had not
counted on was that having a lover would not be at all
convenient
.

As
he pulled on his boots, an impulse struck him with such force that he almost raced down the stairs with one foot bare. If Elena Verano became his mistress, she could live in this house and be available whenever he needed her. He squelched the thought that he might as well move in here with her as he seemed to want her every minute of every day.

She had a staff that would be too big for this place, but he shoved all the practicalities aside as he pulled open the drawers of his chest and hunted for some bauble to give her that would show her how serious he was, how much she meant to him.

Damnation. There wasn’t much and nothing good enough for her. A book! Perfect. He spent more minutes than he wanted to trying to decide whether to give her the one with erotic sketches or the exquisite leather-bound copy of the
Kama Sutra
that had been on this shelf from the first day of his ownership.

The
Kama Sutra
, he decided. They could read it aloud to each other. Something they could share in more ways than one.

He found paper and, by some miracle, a pen and ink that were still usable. He wrote a note. The words came easily since they came from his heart. There, he thought. The time from impulse to action had been less than five minutes. He still had to put on his other boot, so he rang for the maid.

“Take this to Signora Verano,” he said, handing her
the slim volume, “and tell her that I will join her in less than two minutes.”

He pulled on his boot and using the glass, combed his hair and retied his cravat in a traditional knot. He would have plenty of time with her now.

T
HE BOOK HAD
the most beautiful binding Elena had ever seen. There was no title on the front or the spine and she admired the elaborate gilt scrollwork that filled the cover. Studying it more carefully, Elena realized the scrollwork was a vine of some exotic flower, which entwined a man and a woman in the most erotic way.

She set the book aside, curbing one curiosity for another more compelling. The note read:
For you, Elena, with thanks and appreciation for your generous spirit and in anticipation of the next weeks and months
.

The note was not signed, though there was no doubt from whom it came. Elena had never seen Meryon’s handwriting before and distracted herself for a minute as she tried to see some of him in the bold black ink and the disciplined lines.

Bold and disciplined. And very much in control.

Weeks and months
. That should have pleased her. Protestations of undying love would have not been the truth. She knew that, but “I love you” would have been a lovely lie.

Elena took the book up and opened it, not at all surprised by the title page.
Kama Sutra
. She snapped the book shut. How clichéd. How like a man.

Meryon found her with the book in her lap.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Elena began without preamble. “Words of affection would have been enough of a gift from you.”

She watched the duke for his reaction. He was a little surprised but not embarrassed, which was a relief. Or was it?
No, it was not
.

Elena wanted Meryon to grab the book, proclaim himself a thousand kinds of fool for thinking that something so carnal could express his true feelings, and promise to show her a dozen times a day what she meant to him.

“I’m sorry. Truly I am.” Meryon took her hand, kissed it, and then gathered her into his arms. “I should have waited and we could have gone to the jeweler together. That way you could choose something yourself, but I wanted to give you something right away, something that would show you what you mean to me.”

Meryon kissed her, that tender kiss Elena recognized from their first meeting. It eased the frustration with his reticence, but not the discomfort with his gift. Why could he not express his feelings, even if he felt no more than gratitude?

“Elena, there is something more. I want to give you this house. It may not be styled to your liking, but you may redecorate it any way you wish.” His expectant smile confused her.

“But I have a home, Meryon. In Bloomsbury.”

Elena made to step out of the embrace. Before he let go of her, the duke kissed her on one cheek and then the other. “My dear, I want you closer. I want to be able to see you whenever I am free.”

Elena froze, quite literally, froze. Then her whole
being shivered as if waking from a fantasy. Meryon took up his glass of wine and drank as though what he wanted was as conventional as singing
Messiah
at Easter.

The explanation that came to her mind, the words, might be too direct, even crude, but Elena asked and hoped she was wrong. “You want to set me up as your mistress?”

“Yes, yes.” He smiled again, not the true from-the-heart smile. This one was almost patronizing, as though she had not understood her lesson on the first telling.

She gave him an answer. It might not have been the one Meryon was looking for but there was no other response that could fully express her thoughts.

Elena slapped him.

It was not the most destructive blow in the world, but from the duke’s shocked expression Elena knew he understood the message. And was surprised by it.

She found her voice. “You are telling me you want me to be your
mistress?
Not even asking. Telling me.” She made fists with both of her hands to keep from slapping him again. “I wish a woman could challenge a man to a duel.”

Meryon’s confusion was insultingly real. The duke was shaking his head. He looked puzzled, his mouth slightly open, though not a word or sound came from him.

“Your Grace, you are the stupidest man I have ever met. A fool. An idiot.” Turning from him, Elena marched toward the door. “Take me home now.” She waited there, her back to him. She could feel the duke’s eyes on her and gave him his answer on the chance he had misunderstood
her anger. “No, I will not be your mistress. What’s more, I will have nothing more to do with you. Not after that insult.”

Still the duke did not move to open the door for her. Elena would not raise a hand to open it herself, but waited for him to act as a gentleman should.

“Elena, what on earth.” Meryon tried again. “Listen to me.”

“Are you so used to having everyone do your bidding that you do not even understand the word
no?”
Elena made the mistake of turning back to look at him as she spoke.

The duke was composed now, except for his eyes. There she saw anger and embarrassment. Good, Elena thought; that made two of them.

“I am sorry if I misunderstood your interest.” His stiff words made his discomfort clear.

“Who do you think I am? What do you think I am?” Elena knew she was shouting and wanted to do more. She wanted to shake some sense into him. Instead she closed her eyes and prayed for self-control. It came to her, some small, angel-given gift that helped her behave as the lady she was born and raised to be, not the screaming witch he had unleashed with his vile suggestion.

“Meryon, you are the second person I have been with. I have had no other lovers.” Elena stepped away from the door. “For me, making love is a special connection, a giving and sharing. What does it mean to you, if not that?” Elena did not wait for the duke to answer, but spoke for him. “Is it no more than physical need?”

“Yes, it’s physical need, but more than that. I thought that having you in residence here would make our lives simpler.”

“My living here would make your life simpler. Mine would be in a ruin. Did you not even think of Mia and what it would do to her debut? Have you become so used to everyone deferring to you that you have lost all understanding of true feeling?”

Elena knew that was not so. Their first meeting had shown her that Meryon was capable of deep emotion and compassion. She had seen it again when the carriage wheel had come off.

Stepping closer Elena hoped he would answer as the man she knew from that first meeting.

M
ERYON HARDLY KNEW
what to do and even less what to say. His pride rose up like an angry beast. “My apologies,” he said again, with a perfunctory bow.

Elena raised her hand with that abrupt gesture she used to stop someone from speaking.

“Don’t you try to stop me, Elena. You’ve had your say and I will have mine.” The duke did not even try to control his voice, did not care how he sounded. Reason had no place in this.

“You are standing here telling me you are insulted by my offer when you clearly want the same thing I do.” He raised a hand to his cheek. “You want me every bit as much as I want you. You know that is true.”

“I would have been happy to know you better. To
have an affair based on affection and respect. Not commerce and convenience.”

Elena was quieter, still angry but not shouting. Meryon had a mental image of a balance where when one of them shouted the other calmed.

“Know me better!” He laughed, he could not help it. “We know each other intimately. What more is there?”

Elena shook her head as if he had asked the most pathetic question imaginable. “We know each other physically, Your Grace, but now that is almost a distraction. Do you really think that to know where to touch and when to kiss is to know me completely?”

“No, of course not. If giving you the book was a mistake then surely my note gave you some idea of how I regard you.” How did he explain that sex was all he could give of himself for now?

“Your note was its own insult. You appreciate my generous spirit.” She picked up the note to read the words. “And the way you can reciprocate is with a meaningless thing.”

Elena tossed the book onto the table and ignored it when the volume fell on the floor. “Meryon, what we could have had was never about gifts or money. Never.”

“Tell me what you want.” He took a step closer to her. How could things have gone so wrong so quickly? “It seems I am incapable of understanding without an explicit explanation.”

“Meryon,” she said, taking a step closer as well.

They were still too far apart, in every way.

“I was hoping for love.” She blinked away the tears he
could see filling her eyes. “Don’t you understand that what we have is about love and not power?”

“You were expecting a proposal of
marriage?”
Meryon recoiled as if punched. He did not mean to edge the word with such disdain but he was totally confused. Marriage was out of the question. As she had said, they hardly knew each other.

“Marriage?” Elena’s tears were gone and the anger was back. “We are not much more than strangers. This argument is proof enough of that, of our mutual misconception despite our compatibility in bed.” She bent over and picked up the note and the book from the floor, read the note again, and then crunched it into a ball, dropping it on the table.

“I would not consider marriage for even a single second, Your Grace. I am an independent lady of means. I value my freedom too much to tie myself forever to someone like you.”

“Someone like me,” he repeated, stung.

Elena circled the room, but there were no paintings here to calm her. She stopped after ten steps and with a sharp breath continued her diatribe.

“I was insulted that you would ask me to be a kept woman, so that my life would revolve around nothing but
your
needs, when
you
wanted it, at
your
convenience. I would be no more to you than your valet or your tiger.”

“I have heard quite enough,” Meryon said, reaching for his hat and gloves.

“I am not finished,” she shouted as she crossed the room to stand in front of him. “If you, Your Grace, were not so afraid of laughter, of love, of so much as a smile, we
could have been very happy together. Now all you have are these two days to remember me by.”

The duke grabbed her wrist and pulled her close. Elena’s shock at such handling barely registered. When he spoke it was through gritted teeth. “When I say that I have heard enough, signora, you are well advised to stop talking.”

“Oh, is that phrase another code? Is it like telling the tiger to go look for your walking stick?” Elena yanked her wrist from his grip and folded her arms, as if that would guarantee her safety. “That makes it all the more clear that I am not part of your world.”

“Elena!” Meryon could feel his temper uncoiling, like a bear too long asleep. “You are the most aggravating, self-righteous woman I have ever met.” The words streamed out oh, so quietly, but with lethal accuracy, and he made no attempt to hold them back. “You can shout like a harridan and always think you are right. You may be beautiful and sing like an angel, but you lack every feminine trait save one.”

Meryon so wanted her to ask what that one trait was. Of course, now she did not speak, which was just as well as he had not finished.

“You think that one night of ill-advised conversation in the dark is license to invade my life in every other way.”

He could see her biting her lip and wondered where her control had been a minute ago.

“If you need to hear the words ‘I love you’ then you will wait a long time. I never even spoke those words to my wife.” He bit the words off and looked away from her. “The truth is …” He took a deep breath and unclenched
his fist. “The truth is, I’m not sure that I even know what love is, but if shouting and hitting are part of it then I want nothing to do with it.”

“I am happy to leave it that way, Your Grace.” Elena’s expression was as haughty as a queen’s. “Take me home. Now.”

She stood straight and still, waiting for him to do what she asked. No, what she commanded.

“I will, but you will always have a special place in my memory. I have never lost my temper with a woman. Until today.”