To Love and to Loathe (The Regency Vows #2)(87)
“Yes,” he said, feeling slightly uncomfortable as he realized they were still standing pressed together against the door—he with his breeches still undone, for that matter. He quickly remedied the situation. “Er,” he said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the armchairs arranged before the fireplace. “Shall we—”
“What? Oh, yes, if you wish.” Her tone was distracted, her mind clearly still occupied. She took a seat in the armchair closest to the fireplace, tucking her knees up beneath her chin and wrapping her arms around her legs to hold them close. She looked younger than usual. “So I take it you’ve yet to actually extend your offer?”
“Yes,” Jeremy confirmed, taking the chair nearest hers and dragging it closer to her for good measure. Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she made no comment. “I thought it the gentlemanly thing to do. To tell you first.”
“Yes,” she said, her tone as dry as toast. “You’re a paragon of chivalry, Jeremy.”
“I just thought that announcing the engagement as a fait accompli at the breakfast table one morning would be unfair to you,” he protested, feeling that he was somehow digging himself into a deeper and deeper hole but unsure of how to free himself from it.
She raised one eyebrow slowly. “You’re certain of being accepted, then?”
Jeremy puffed out his chest a bit. He didn’t even mean to—it was some sort of deeply ingrained masculine instinct that he hadn’t realized he possessed until that very moment. No wonder women were so disgusted with the entire male sex, he thought in a moment of clarity. “Not certain, no,” he said. “I should never presume to understand the female mind well enough to be assured of my success.” She narrowed her eyes at him, but he continued speaking as though she hadn’t. “However, I am a reasonably good catch, I’ve been led to understand, and the lady’s behavior toward me of late has led me to believe that my suit would not be rebuffed.”
She snorted. “I wouldn’t be so certain.”
He opened his mouth to object, then paused. Why would she say that? Unless she knew what he knew? Surely not. Surely such knowledge would shock any gently reared lady down to her very core. For all her worldliness, even Diana could not know about that.
“She doesn’t like men,” his innocent flower said in businesslike fashion.
“I beg your pardon?” Jeremy asked, sounding more like his grandmother than he had ever done in his entire life.
“She. Prefers. Women,” Diana said slowly, enunciating each word very clearly, as though speaking to a small child, or a deaf octogenarian. “And this is something that was shared with me in confidence, so please take care not to go blabbing about it to Audley and Penvale and ruin everything. I just felt that this was something you might wish to know, before you go making an ass of yourself strewing rose petals at her feet or whatever other ideas you have within that thick skull of yours.”
“As it happens,” Jeremy said, with what little sangfroid he could muster, “I was already aware of this. It is, in fact, the knowledge that led me to this plan of action in the first place.”
It was, he noted smugly, Diana’s turn to look shocked. “How could you possibly know?” she asked, incredulity tinging her voice. “Surely you couldn’t have puzzled it out.” The definitive tone with which she said this did not speak highly of her opinion of his intellectual capabilities, but for once he decided to ignore this. A man could only fight a battle on so many fronts at once, after all.
“I happened to catch her in a rather delicate situation with her maid,” Jeremy said casually. “The experience was fairly educational, truth be told.”
Diana’s mouth quirked up at one side. “I imagine it was. To think I could have saved us all this time and merely drilled a peephole in her door instead.” He didn’t wish to be oversensitive, but he couldn’t help but think that he detected a note of relief in her voice upon learning that he had not, in fact, deduced this about Lady Helen in the absence of hard evidence, as though her world had been set to rights by confirming that he was not quite that clever.
Before he had a chance to reply, however, she continued. “Could you please explain to me how your knowledge of the lady’s complete disinterest in the male sex makes you convinced that marriage between the two of you would be a beneficial arrangement?”
“She needs security,” he explained. “If she were to marry me, with the full understanding that our marriage should never be anything other than an arrangement of convenience, she could remain in London and carry on as she wishes, with a much larger purse than Rothsmere is likely to grant her.”
“You need an heir,” Diana pointed out, ever practical.
“We’d grit our teeth and do the necessary until she was with child, and then we’d never need to have much to do with each other ever again,” Jeremy said, feeling pleased to have a ready response for her. “Then we could each carry on as we wished. She and that maid could do—er—whatever it is that ladies do together, and I could take any lover I desired.” He was aware of his heart rate increasing as he said this last bit, worrying that she would see right through his casual tone and understand that “any lover he desired” really meant her. But if he framed it all as an affair, no commitment required, surely she would not be so easily frightened. Because the truth was, he wanted her—in his bed, painting his portrait, making him laugh and making him fume with equal frequency—and he would take her however he could get her.