The Problem with Seduction - By Emma Locke Page 0,34
you to wrest Oliver back. I won’t be beholden to you for the rest of my life. Which brings me to my third requirement: if you or I should choose to form an attachment with someone else, we will terminate our arrangement amicably.”
“No,” Con said again. She was already thinking of leaving him? But then, he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life attached to a woman he wasn’t allowed to touch intimately, did he? If so, he could be married by now.
“I’m not giving up on Oliver,” he said, “and I don’t want to be any more in your debt.” He didn’t say anything about the “friendly” part of her terms. That had been his own stupid idea.
She laughed low. He felt it all the way to his toes. “Oh, my lord,” she said, shaking her head slowly. “I fear it’s far too late for that.”
Chapter Seven
MEN OFTEN MEANT WELL, at the time. Elizabeth had learned from experience never to trust a protector longer than it took him to make a promise. It was only a matter of course before some shiny, new entertainment cropped up and distracted him. Yet here she was, returning to London with Lord Constantine. She knew better, and still… She’d always been too fanciful for her own good.
There was one logical reason she sat across from him now in the coach. Her father wanted her to silence the gossips. Taking up with Lord Constantine lent credence to her assertion that he was Oliver’s father. A perfectly ordinary arrangement between a man and the paramour with whom he’d sired a bastard could be of no interest to anyone. Society would soon forget her scandal. Wyndham had to be satisfied with that, for even if it wasn’t enough to convince Nicholas, she need only put an end to the ton’s speculation to meet her father’s requirement.
She must hope that after a few weeks of looking silly in the eyes of the ton, Nicholas would give up, too.
There was another, more reckless reason she had come back with him. She could hardly sit still for the butterflies his nearness caused in her belly. He was so handsome, and so protective of her and Oliver without being overbearing about it.
His eyes never wavered from the horizon beyond the plate window. His right fingertips drummed against his thigh. He appeared impatient to be home, yet she was coming to realize he was one of the most indulgent people she’d ever met. Whatever she asked of him, he gladly did. Mayhap it was because he had nowhere else to be. No other responsibilities.
She forced herself to look away, because in his direction lay danger. They’d been traveling two days. London was near. She, too, could hardly wait to be home. He’d been frighteningly astute in that matter. She did want to be in London. Ever since she’d left Shropshire, London had been the place she felt best. The enormous city provided enough nooks and crannies for a woman of any reputation to carve herself a home. Not that Elizabeth wanted to blend in completely; then she might disappear altogether.
Laughably, for a short time her plan had been exactly that. Disappear. She’d let Celeste, her best friend and the only person she’d known to turn to when she’d learned she was with child, convince her that the best refuge for an unwed mother was the obscurity of the countryside. Elizabeth had allowed herself to be led to Devon even though she’d never taken to that idea. At the time, it had seemed she had no other choice.
She’d leapt at the first chance to return to London after Oliver’s birth. Nicholas had been her excuse then. Now it was Con. In truth, London was just as much a lure as either man. As her carriage approached the city walls now, she knew with absolute certainty that she would never be happy secluding herself away from the bustle of Town. Not permanently.
When the carriage pulled up before her rented townhouse, Lord Constantine alighted as soon as the steps were lowered. He turned and helped her from the vehicle then went up the stone steps ahead of her. The knocker clacked against the door in three sure raps.
Elizabeth went to the second carriage to see to Oliver. She had to step around Lord Constantine’s horse, tied to the rear of her carriage, to do so. The way his saddlebag was tucked askew amongst her trunks and his nag was tethered to her