Nicole Jordan (9 page)

He could tell by the flush on her cheeks that he had struck a sensitive nerve, but even so, Diana eyed him coolly. “I have lived comfortably with the tarnish for the past six years. Why should I care if you can add a little polish?”

“Because you could keep a closer eye on Amy during her Season. You told me you intend to remain in the background for her comeout, but if you are engaged to me—and have my aunt’s backing—you could both participate in social events and use your powers of persuasion to help Amy get over her infatuation. You are obviously a good influence on her, despite her current pique with you.”

That gave Diana pause, he could see. “There is also the matter of your own protection,” Thorne continued. “If we’re to be thrown together while working in Amy’s behalf, your reputation may only suffer further from your association with me. But our betrothal should stem much of the gossip and shield you from the worst suppositions.”

“Possibly,” she murmured, deep in thought.

“And in any case, I feel an obligation toward you. Amy is my ward. As I see it, your being her cousin makes me in some way responsible for you.”

A spark of defiance lit Diana’s dark eyes. “I assure you, it does
not
make you responsible, my lord. I don’t require your protection. And I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“I’ll warrant you are,” he said soothingly. “But you can’t deny the benefit to Amy.”

When she made no reply other than pressing her lips together, Thorne added his final argument. “I believe I could also help your chances of being accepted into the British Academy to train. I know several of the Academy’s patrons and can use my connections to your benefit. By the time our betrothal ends, you will likely have established yourself in the art world.”

He had expected her to be pleased by the offer, but unexpectedly, it seemed only to trouble her. Any hint of amusement left her expression. In fact, she actually grimaced.

“You realize that if I accept, I may be seen as a fortune-hunter myself. Society will assume that I trapped you into offering for me. Frankly, I can think of few things more odious than being accused of throwing myself at your head.”

“But we would know the truth, wouldn’t we?”

He had kept his tone light, meaning to tease her a little, but she only regarded him solemnly.

“I’m certain you have reservations, Miss Sheridan, so perhaps you would like some time to consider my proposal,” Thorne offered. He glanced down at his legs, reminded that he still wore boots and breeches. “I must dress for dinner. You can give me your answer when I return.”

When he stood and took his leave, Diana mutely watched him go. She sat there for a long moment, a little stunned by his proposal. Christopher Thorne had asked for her hand, not in marriage, but in a pretend betrothal.

Leaving her glass of sherry untouched, Diana rose to her feet and restlessly crossed the elegant drawing room to the French doors, which opened onto the terraced gardens. The beautiful gardens offered a magnificent view of the Mediterranean, and the setting sun had turned the sea a shimmering golden red, but Diana scarcely noticed as she stepped outside.

Of course she had reservations. Grave, numerous ones.

She cast a dark glare behind her, in the direction she had last seen Thorne. It irked her that he’d treated his offer so casually. He had thought nothing of making such an explosive proposition and then walking away, leaving her to stew.

A betrothal would scarcely affect him, after all. He was a nobleman born to privilege and power, accustomed to having his own way. He was the rakish darling of society who would forever be excused for his outrageous misdeeds.

For her, however, a betrothal would be an event of enormous magnitude.

From the countless tales she’d heard about Thorne, she had always presumed him to be a charming rogue who viewed women as a challenge and life as a lark. Clearly he had more substance than she’d given him credit for, but his brazenness in the cove today only confirmed how dangerous he was to her.

He was sinfully beautiful, heart-stoppingly seductive, and without a doubt, she was highly vulnerable to beautiful, seductive men. She’d proved that profoundly at the tender age of eighteen with her former suitor.

Wincing at the memory, Diana found herself pacing the gardens, hardly aware of her surroundings as she pondered her dilemma. After her aunt had died, she’d been put under the lax care of a female governess-chaperone, whose negligence had made it possible for her to make the greatest mistake of her life.

She’d been heartbroken by her betrothed’s betrayal, both because his pretense of loving her was false and because her dreams of living the wonderful, creative world of the artist had been so callously ended.

Certainly she had never planned to accept another proposal of marriage after that.

As for love, she was determined never to give her heart so foolishly again. After being so badly hurt, she was wary of any man who tried to woo her because she couldn’t trust their motives. She refused to be any man’s prey ever again. Or to be deceived and shamed so thoroughly. Spinsterhood was far preferable to risking such vulnerability.

With her modest fortune, she could doubtless find a husband, even despite her ruined reputation, but she had no desire to imprison herself in a loveless marriage simply to give herself respectability.

She had strong maternal instincts, however, and regretted that she would likely never have children of her own.

Perhaps that was why she was so protective of Amy, Diana reflected. Amy was her charge. Perhaps not legally, but in every way that counted. She loved her cousin sincerely and would do almost anything for her sake.

She had a moral duty, too. Except for her, Amy had no close family left. The Lunsfords had taken
her
in when she had been orphaned. She would never abandon Amy at this crucial time in her life.

She couldn’t deny, either, wanting to be a part of Amy’s comeout so she could try to provide guidance and counsel. Nor could she deny seeing the advantages Thorne had pointed out—to herself as well as to her cousin.

A betrothal would give her instant respectability. In the last year, without Nathaniel to lend her countenance and protection, more than one gentleman had considered her fair game because of her scandalous past and had made her an indecent offer.

It didn’t matter that she was still a virgin and practically an innocent when it came to carnal matters. She was still considered ruined in the eyes of society.

Respectability would also benefit her artistic career, Diana knew. And she did long to be admitted into the academy, although she wanted it to be because of her talent rather than through Thorne’s connections.

She had worked fiercely to become worthy of admittance. Snubbed by the local gentry since her aborted elopement, she’d lived a quiet, retiring existence, channeling her restlessness into her art, teaching herself to express her feelings in works with emotional power and beauty.

For years that had been enough. She had been fairly content with her life. But since Nathaniel’s death, she had come to know a growing dissatisfaction. The burning desire to do more. To
be
more. In the past months she had renewed her fragile dreams of becoming a renowned artist.

Yet it was the possibility of freedom that held an even greater allure. An unwed lady of doubtful reputation had few choices; a female artist seldom had opportunities to exhibit her work.

Surprisingly, Thorne had understood the unfairness of her situation, although Diana doubted he could truly know the depths of her resentment. Surely no man could comprehend what it was like for her to spend a life shackled by convention, forced to obscure her artistic skill because of her gender.

The prejudice against her would be even worse in London. Alone, she would be subjected to the numerous small cruelties that only polite society could contrive. But as Thorne’s betrothed…

His consequence could indeed shelter her from the gossip and intolerance she would face when she returned.

Perhaps she
should
consider accepting his proposal, Diana reflected.

She pressed a hand to her stomach, trying to quell the butterflies rioting there. She really wanted nothing to do with a man of Thorne’s rakish stamp. Yet as he’d said, they would be thrown together simply by virtue of their connection to Amy. And her reputation would only suffer because of it. More critically, Amy could benefit greatly….

Diana gave a start when Thorne suddenly materialized on the terrace behind her.

Dusk had begun to fall without her even noticing, and the glow from beyond the French doors of the drawing room told her that the lamps had been lit for the evening.

In the dimming light, Thorne moved toward her with a muscular grace that reminded her vividly of their encounter in the cove earlier, when he’d been entirely nude. She had a lustful vision of his body, recalling how hard and lithe it had felt pressed against her, how his fingers had aroused her nipple….

Stop remembering, you shameless goose!

He had dressed for dinner in a superbly fitting, dark green coat and white cravat that accentuated the masculine appeal of his chiseled features and golden hair.

Deplorably, the sight of him made Diana warm and breathless.

It was alarming how vividly his mere nearness affected her senses. When Thorne came to a halt before her, she had to force herself not to turn and flee.

“I met Amy in the corridor,” he remarked. “She just returned from her ride and is changing her gown.” His gaze raked over her. “I failed to comment earlier, but you look ravishing.”

She was becoming accustomed to his outrageous frankness and so paid his compliment no mind, although she couldn’t possibly ignore the admiring heat that had kindled in his eyes. His hot gaze burned through the silk of her dress to the pulsing skin beneath.

“So have you considered my offer, sweeting?”

Diana dragged in a deep breath, wondering if she was making a huge mistake. “Yes. I have considered it.”

“And?”

“And yes, I will agree to a betrothal. But it will only be temporary. Only until Amy’s future is successfully settled.”

“Of course.” A faint smile curved Thorne’s mouth as he gave her an elaborate bow. “You do me great honor.”

“There is no need for such pretense, my lord,” Diana said wryly.

“If we’re officially betrothed, you must call me Thorne. Or Christopher.”

“Thorne will do. I don’t wish us to become overly familiar for the brief duration of our arrangement.”

He grinned more broadly at that. “I fear some measure of familiarity is inevitable, love.”

“I disagree. And such endearments are not necessary to our charade, either.”

“Ah, but they
are
if we expect to convince the ton we are actually engaged. My reservations against wedlock are well known. The only credible reason I would willingly give up my bachelorhood is if I were ensnared by love. So the pretense that you stole my heart is one we should cultivate.”

Diana felt herself grimace, dismayed by the prospect of having to feign love between them. It would be difficult enough to deny the searing attraction she already felt for Thorne, without the additional complication of pretending an emotional entanglement. But he did have a point. “I suppose you are right.”

“I am. And we should begin to prepare our audience as soon as possible. Tomorrow a ship will be sailing from Cyrene, so I’ll use it to send notices to the London papers of our betrothal, and to inform my father also. And I will write my Aunt Hennessy. I must give her some advance notice if she’s to sponsor Amy’s comeout, as well as warn her about my unexpected betrothal. Doubtless she will be astonished.”

“Will we be leaving for London shortly?” Diana asked. “If so, I should tell Amy to keep her trunks packed.”

“A week should give me time to arrange matters in England satisfactorily. I thought to depart next Wednesday or Thursday.”

“But that will put our arrival in London very close to the start of the Season.”

“My ship is much faster than the packet that brought you here. Our voyage should take two weeks rather than three or more, barring any major storms at sea. And we have several tasks to accomplish before we leave. During the next sennight I’ll have a dressmaker make up wardrobes for both you and Amy.”

Diana frowned. “It won’t be necessary for me to have more than a new gown or two. I am not the one making my comeout.”

“It will, love. I want my betrothed to be dressed in the height of fashion, especially if you plan to squire Amy about London. The French modiste I have in mind recently hails from Paris, where she once designed gowns for the nobility.”

“How is it that you are so aware of ladies’ fashions?” she asked with a sardonic note in her voice, but her attempt to provoke Thorne only succeeded in rousing a hint of wicked humor in his eyes.

“I make it my business to know what pleases a woman. And most women of my acquaintance are keenly interested in adorning their plumage. Cyrene isn’t so different from England in that respect. Or in the way society is ruled, either. Our island society is led by some three dozen British families who have their own little ton and can be quite as ruthless as London’s beau monde. Which reminds me…I’ve arranged for a respectable widow, Señora Padillo, to act as chaperone for the duration of your stay.”

“Thank you,” Diana said with all sincerity.

“And I have a friend whom I mean to introduce to Amy tomorrow. John Yates will be traveling to England with us, and I intend for him to help keep her occupied until our departure.”

“To divert her mind from her infatuation?”

“Precisely. Her fortune-hunter requires
some
competition.” There was a glint in Thorne’s eye that suggested he would enjoy creating an element of subterfuge.

“And I suppose you don’t mean to tell Amy that you are scheming against her? Rather devious, is it not?”

“Merely shrewd. I’ve been playing these amorous games since before Amy cut her eyeteeth, so I know what is most likely to be effective. Moreover, I have the distinct impression that simple logic and sage advice won’t work with her.”