Read The School for Brides Online
Authors: Cheryl Ann Smith
The School for Brides (8 page)
He was powerful and mesmerizing in his raw masculinity. It was all she could do to remember to breathe.
If not for the hatred for him that turned her stomach into a painful lump, she could easily be caught under his sensuous spell, as doubtless many women had been.
She wanted to run to the window, throw open the sash, and cry out for Harold to rescue her. But that would gain her little. She had to hear what he had to say and work out a plan to save Mother and herself. And if he decided to strangle her right here in this room of roses, Harold was too far away to stop him anyway.
Thankfully she’d chosen a gown with a high, stiff collar to aid in strangulation prevention. Only a collar of thorns would make better armor.
“What do you want from me?” she asked, her voice thin. She watched his frown turn into a malevolent scowl. Fear sizzled down her spine. He was the devil himself.
“I want Arabella back.”
Eva’s shoulders slumped. She wanted to drop into the nearest chair but feared showing weakness. All she could do was puff up her feathers and make a show of confidence.
“I thought that matter was settled, Your Grace.”
He stepped into the room and closed the door. “Oh, yes, it was. You are the reason she is not sharing my bed.” He moved over to one narrow window and pushed it open enough to allow in a cool breeze to ruffle his shirt and hair, but not enough to allow her the space to launch an escape.
Unfortunately.
“Pity.” She failed to sound sympathetic. “If you walk down Bond Street and crook your finger, Your Grace, I am certain you will have a full dozen eager would-be lovers to choose from.” She made a face. “Your bed will not be empty for long.”
His face went stony.
She had the grim feeling of being a mouse batted about by a playful cat before it finally decided to gobble down the helpless creature for its supper.
But if His Grace thought her helpless in his claws, he would be in for a surprise. She might be financially beholden to him, but she was no weak ninny. Hardships in her life had turned her spine to steel. It would take more than this setback to break her spirit.
So she walked to the nearest settee, where she settled herself, taking great care in spreading her cape and skirts around her as serenely as if she were invited for tea. When she finally lifted her eyes to his, she arched a brow and clasped her hands in her lap.
“I understand, Your Grace, that you have purchased my notes.” She hoped for some indication of his thoughts, but his face was impassive. “Perhaps you would like to tell me what kind of torment you plan for me in your desire for revenge. Cleaning your chamber pots? Throwing myself over rain puddles so you do not ruin your boots? Mucking out your stables?” She stared into his eyes. “Pray do not keep me in suspense a moment longer.”
N
icholas watched the silly creature make a show of bravado, but she couldn’t hide the tremor in her hands no matter how tightly she clasped them together. She was afraid of him, from her wide, worried eyes to the nervous leg twitch beneath her horrid brown gown.
icholas watched the silly creature make a show of bravado, but she couldn’t hide the tremor in her hands no matter how tightly she clasped them together. She was afraid of him, from her wide, worried eyes to the nervous leg twitch beneath her horrid brown gown.
Without her servant guard to stand over her like a wall between them, she was at his mercy, fully and completely.
And she knew it.
If only he had some shackles to rattle or a crop to tap against his boot. He bit back a grin.
He was enjoying this.
“I have learned many things about you over the last two weeks, Miss Black. Saving courtesans from ruin? What a foolish notion. Many chose their life as a way of saving themselves from backbreaking poverty. Would you rather see them starving and defiled in dark alleys for crusts of bread and a sip of ale?”
“Th-there are other options.”
“As a seamstress or lady’s companion or maid?” He snorted. “How many positions are available to the multitude of women who come to town seeking employment, Miss Black? A couple dozen? Less? And what of those women like Arabella, who draw the attention of men? Do you think a wife will accept her presence in a household with her husband?”
“I do not offer them employment,” she said.
“No, you give them husbands.”
“Mock me as you will, Your Grace, but I have had much success.” She put her hand to her heart. “You are wealthy and a man. It is easy to dismiss my endeavors on behalf of these desperate women.”
She had a point, though he’d not tell her so. He had always gotten everything he desired. It was difficult to imagine worrying over every scrap of food or finding shelter at night from the dangers of the city. Still, he hadn’t the time or desire to quibble with her over the state of women when his mind was on revenge.
The spinster settled back on the settee, not as confident as before. She was tightly wound and appeared ready to dart for the open window if he moved too quickly. Since he had not yet sprung the trap, he slowly crossed his arms and leaned back on his heels.
“You are curious why I’ve asked you here and why I have purchased your debts. I suspect you believe I have nefarious plans for you, and you are correct. I did not take over your finances out of concern for your welfare.” He paused, watching worry filter into her eyes. “As you know, I am without a mistress at present, thanks to you and your interference. I believe that makes you obligated to replace Arabella.”
Her mouth gaped, and he continued before she could protest. “I understand you have several courtesans at your town house in Cheapside that will do nicely.” She began to sputter as color infused her pale face. He bit back a grin. “I shall give you a list of the qualifications I desire in a lover. You shall choose one of the women for me and make the introduction.”
“I will not.” Outraged, she jumped to her feet. She had to look up to meet his eyes. “How dare you propose such a vile thing? Those women have had enough of being used and degraded for the baser needs of men. I will not hand one of them over to you on a leash, no matter what it costs me.”
He lifted a brow. “Oh, I believe you will, Miss Black. I have you hanging from a cliff by your nails. You will do as I ask.”
“Over my rotting corpse.” She jutted out her chin. “I will not barter one of my courtesans to save myself.”
Her stoicism surprised him. Most women would be in tears. But not this stiff spinster. She had nettle drawers and needles in her corset.
Evidently, he had to notch up the threats to get her to whimper. “What of your mother, Miss Black? What consequences should she pay for your refusal to cooperate?”
Her jaw tightened and her expression changed into that of a fierce tigress. “Leave my mother out of this, Your Grace.”
Clearly, he had struck a nerve. She might not give a fig whether she ended up in poverty, but her mother was another matter. The cat had claws. He’d better not expose his back to her or he’d find his flesh shredded.
“My offer is simple, Miss Black. Find me a courtesan and I will turn over your notes; if she proves to be a satisfactory lover first, of course.” He paused and watched her eyes darken and her face turn an odd shade of plum. “Then you can be assured your mother lives the rest of her days in the comfort she deserves.”
“You are a despicable man.” Her voice dropped and cracked as her thin shoulders slumped slightly forward. “My mother is ill. Surely you can find another way to torture me. I cannot give you one of my young women; they are not mine to give.”
Nicholas watched defeat cross her face, and for the first time he noticed her delicate cheekbones and the long lashes framing her fierce amber eyes. It seemed an unusual moment to see there was actually a real woman beneath her colorless exterior, and not a wooden shop display.
If not for her drab clothing and dull brown hair, she might be considered mildly interesting to look at. Not enough to stir one to great passion, but not unpleasant to peer at over a table when breakfasting.
Suddenly he realized the perfect way to torment Miss Black and steal some of her starch. He’d known she would never accept his directive, and truthfully, he had no interest in any of her courtesans. He only wanted to see how far he could push her before she broke.
In her trim little frame she had more steely strength than he’d expected. Even without her giant bulldog of a servant to loom over her, she held fast to her convictions.
No, the stakes had to be raised.
And he knew how to push her over the edge. “Perhaps I can suggest another solution.”
Chapter Five
N
icholas saw her stiffen and dig her nails into the arm of the settee. She was braced for his next assault on her morals and sensibilities. He wouldn’t disappoint.
icholas saw her stiffen and dig her nails into the arm of the settee. She was braced for his next assault on her morals and sensibilities. He wouldn’t disappoint.
Though he had no plans to hurt her physically, tweaking her mind a bit had its rewards. Perhaps it would lessen some of her starch and dull her saber-sharp tongue.
Some of his anger had abated over the past few days, until his thoughts turned back to Arabella. Then he’d become angry all over again. He missed his courtesan’s sweetness, her passion, and her laughter; all because of this prickly spinster and her outlandish desire to end the institution of mistresses and courtesans.
“Wh-what sort of solution?” she asked tentatively, obviously expecting the worst of him.
She had no idea.
“I propose a solution that will be satisfying to us both, Miss Black.” He stressed “satisfying” and saw her stiffen. It was time for a full assault. He lowered his voice seductively and locked onto her gaze. “You are an intelligent woman. Undoubtedly, you have felt the connection between us.”
She swallowed, her fingers plucking at the folds of her skirt. “I—I am sure I do not understand your meaning, Your Grace.”
Slowly, he swept his gaze down her body. Though there wasn’t much of interest to see in her person, he was positive he could find something attractive about her if he had a full day to pick her apart. He carefully examined every visible curve. Miss Black had a decent figure, if one had a taste for slender women.
He smiled. “I believe you do.”
He walked around the back of the settee and placed his hands on the seat back on either side of her shoulders. Not touching, yet close enough to worry the tightly wound spinster.
Nicholas leaned low and caught the light scent of her lilac perfume drifting off a perfect, white, and well-hidden neck. It was positively delightful.
Beneath his breeches, he felt his cock stir for this bland spinster, and almost succumbed to a sudden urge to press his mouth against the narrow band of exposed skin beneath her dull brown hair. He had found something attractive about her. The surprise was his.
“Deny my words, but I know women.” He dipped his face until his mouth was dangerously close to touching the spot right below her left ear. She shivered. “I intrigue you, Miss Black.”
He grinned and exhaled warm breath onto her neck. She let out a small gasp and jumped to her feet. She pivoted and backed toward the door as he rounded the settee and stalked toward her.
“Just to make myself clear,” she said, “there is nothing, nothing, about you that pleases or intrigues me. I would find a toothless rat catcher more appealing than you, Your Grace.”
A chuckle escaped him. She was a fiery little wench.
“I am wounded, Miss Black,” he said softly as he scanned the curves of her full, pink, and slightly parted mouth. “For I find you desperately appealing in your stiff and humorless way.”
She gaped. It was impossible to tell if she suspected he was toying with her or was serious in his claims of attraction.
“I think it best if we forget this conversation in its entirety and keep our dealings to business. I would like to discuss a reasonable plan to repay my debts.”
“I thought we settled this matter already, Miss Black,” he said. “Your debts for a courtesan.”
“I will not do that.”
Blast! He would settle for one whimper, one lip quiver, and this would all be over and they would never need to cross paths again. She could send him a halfpence, a shilling a month to satisfy her debt and he’d be content. All he truly wanted was for her to suffer a small measure of the unhappiness he felt over losing Arabella. Yet, she clearly felt no remorse for his loss or any emotion for her financial ruination, as if her heart was stone.
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