All About Seduction(24)

Really, she would have much preferred to look in on Jack.





Chapter 5



“What are you doing, Mrs. Broadhurst?” Lord Tremont demanded. He stood in front of her with arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

“I should think it obvious,” Caroline choked out. Heat flooded her face, and she couldn’t resist wiping the back of her hand across her lips. Only after she had done it did she realize how insulting wiping away his kiss had been. And how base, as if she had taken on her husband’s worst habits.

Lord Tremont’s nostrils flared. “What is obvious is that you find this encounter distasteful. What game are you playing?”

Caroline stared at her would-be lover and swallowed hard. She shook her head. “I did want to be . . . alone with you.”

“But you don’t now. You find me distasteful.”

Oh God, she would never get what she needed from him if she had botched it so badly. “No. I’m sorry. Truly, you are not distasteful . . . to me.”

Even to her own ears, her warbling protest sounded full of deceit.

He took three steps down the hall, pivoted, strode back and halted in right in front of her. “Tell me what this is about. Your brother invites a dozen bachelors—not his closest friends, mind you—to a hunting party at your home. You are the only woman here. And”—his gaze raked over her—“you have been hanging on my sleeve—literally—half the evening. I am not an imbecile, Mrs. Broadhurst.”

Her thoughts tripped over each other as she considered the ramifications of telling him the truth. But would he go along with her plan? His jaw ticked. She opened her mouth hardly knowing what was likely to come out. She almost hoped for a ceiling cave-in so she didn’t have to say anything.

“What? Is your husband dying, Mrs. Broadhurst? Have you decided to buy a titled gentleman for your next husband with all the wealth you will inherit?”

Her eyebrows drew together. She tried to connect the dots to what Lord Tremont was saying. “My husband isn’t dying. He is advanced in years, but still quite fit.” He better be fit enough to claim a child as his own.

Lord Tremont continued as if she’d said nothing. “I suppose as an earl I must meet the qualifications to be your next husband. And Langley will one day be a marquis. Berkley is likely to inherit his uncle’s Scottish earldom. Not a single man who will end as a commoner among us—could you not locate a prince to consider?”

She was still trying to consider his last point. Mr. Broadhurst was not the man he had been five years earlier. His robust frame had shrunk, his firm stride had withered to a shuffle, and the bedroom problems had followed. Had he pushed her into this unholy bargain because his health was failing? Was that why he wanted an heir now?

“Caroline, you are a passably pretty woman. I am sure if you are seeking a nobleman to enter into an agreement to marry you for your husband’s wealth, you will find one. But not me.”

“That was not my intent.” She stared helplessly at Lord Tremont. Marriage to a titled man would mean moving to London every year while Parliament was in session. It would mean balls, dinners, salons, and the end to her quiet life. It would mean giving up control of the mill and giving a man the right to use her body at will. She shuddered.

How had he arrived at the conclusion that she wanted to marry him—after Mr. Broadhurst was dead and buried presumably? Stars above, she hoped she would be free of a husband and master then.

“When I marry, if I marry, I should imagine I want an heir, a son—”

“I want that too,” she gushed. Perhaps all was not lost.

He touched her neck, and she flinched.

The corner of his moustache lifted. “And a woman who welcomes my touch.”

Caroline dropped her eyes. “Forgive me. My nerves are a-jangle. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

His voice softened. “I suppose an alliance with your family would be quite advantageous. Your brother is a viscount and may yet get that earldom he’s petitioned the crown for. But I don’t like to be tricked into anything.”

“It was not a trick,” mumbled Caroline. She wished the wall behind her would open up and she could escape. She should tell Lord Tremont she simply wanted an affair. “I just wanted to . . .” But the words were like lead in her mouth and too heavy to push out.

“To emulate your sisters?” He searched her face. “Why, when you find Amelia’s behavior so shocking?”