“I would not like any pointers from you, damn your hide,” Reynaud growled.
“But are you sure the chit even cares for you?”
Reynaud thought back to Beatrice eagerly parting her legs for him, her eyelids lowered, her throat suffused in a blush of desire. “I don’t believe that’s a problem.”
“You never know,” Vale said chattily. “Emeline threw me over for Samuel Hartley, and the man’s not nearly as handsome as I.”
Reynaud blinked. “You were engaged to my sister?”
“Didn’t I tell you?”
“No, you did not.”
“Well, I was,” Vale said airily. “Not that it lasted once Hartley put his fascinatin’ hooks into her. Now, my second fiancée threw me over for a curate.”
Reynaud looked at him.
“A butter-haired curate.” Vale nodded. “I assure you. ’Course, that’s how I came to be married to my own sweet wife, but at the time you could’ve knocked me over with a feather. I don’t suppose Miss Corning knows any butter-haired curates, does she?”
“She had better not,” Reynaud growled. And right then he determined that this thing would not drag on with Beatrice. He needed a wife. She’d already given herself to him. It was as simple as that.
And tonight he’d prove it to her.
IN THE MIDDLE of the night, Beatrice woke and opened her eyes to a single candle shining in her bedroom. It should’ve startled her—frightened her, even—but instead she lay quietly and watched as Lord Hope set the candle on a small table near the door.
“What are you doing?” Beatrice asked.
“Coming to see you,” he said, equally matter-of-fact. He had on a red and black banyan, and his head was bare.
He took off the banyan.
“See you seems to be a euphemism,” she observed.
He paused, his hands on the buttons of his shirt. “You’re right.” And he drew the shirt off over his head.
For the first time, she felt a flicker of fear. He hadn’t smiled. He was serious and intent, as if he performed a grim duty.
“You don’t have to do this,” she whispered.
“It seems I do,” he replied. He sat on a chair to remove his shoes. “You seem to be uncertain of me—of us together. I intend to make sure there are no uncertainties after tonight.”
She noted that he made no mention of love, and she felt disappointment shoot through her.
“Seducing me won’t prove anything,” she said.
“Won’t it?” He sounded unconcerned. “That remains to be seen.”
She watched him a moment as he stripped off his stockings, breeches, and smallclothes. He seemed entirely comfortable with his own nudity, but she felt her breath quicken. When he’d bedded her the day before, she’d been in shock, only half aware of what was going on. Now she was wide awake, her senses almost too alert to him. He stood tall and proud, his skin an even light brown over his entire body. His arms and shoulders were leanly muscled, like a laborer’s. She remembered that he’d told her he’d had to hunt for his food. There was black curling hair on his chest, but it wasn’t thick, and she could see the dark brown points of his nipples.
ice sighed. Lottie seemed to be confusing Beatrice’s predicament with her own life since she’d left Mr. Graham. Although Beatrice noticed that Lottie hadn’t started taking lovers and living the life of a fast matron.
“I don’t want to be a dashing and scandalous courtesan,” Beatrice said quietly. “And I do have to make a decision, because Lord Hope isn’t the sort of man who sits about waiting for others to make up their minds. He’ll decide it for me if I don’t do it soon.”
“Hmm, that does pose a problem.”
“Yes, it does.” Beatrice looked at her hands in her lap, trying to sort through her feelings. “I wish I knew how he felt for me—or even if he can feel.”
“What do you mean?”