The Daring Miss Darcy (Lost Ladies of London #4)(17)
Vane smiled, but the hairs on his nape prickled to attention. He turned to find Lady Cornell watching him from the end of the corridor. Her golden hair was styled in an elaborate coiffure adorned with flowers and ridiculous trinkets to make the young woman appear comely.
“Another admirer craving your attention?” Farleigh said with some amusement. “How on earth have you abstained since your return from Italy?”
Lady Cornell trailed her fingers over her collarbone, her eyes still trained on Vane, urging him, begging him to approach.
“During all my dalliances, it never occurred to me that Lillian might be the one who would get hurt.” The pain of discovering that Lord Martin had taken his sister’s virtue and discarded her so cruelly still lived in his chest. “No loving brother would continue to behave in the same manner.”
“But you’re a man. You have needs. Why not take a wife as I suggested and be done with this whole charade?”
Farleigh’s advice was flawed when one considered the lord had recently married for love. But his friend meant well, and the last thing Vane wanted was another conversation about Estelle Darcy.
“I’ll settle for nothing less than what you have with Rose. You know that.”
Vane studied Lady Cornell’s voluptuous form. Her soft breasts bulged out from the neckline of her vibrant red gown. Once, her pretty pout may have conjured an image of full lips sliding up and down his cock — and yet it did nothing to spark lust in his loins now. How could it when only one woman dominated his thoughts? Only one woman could rouse emotion in his chest.
Tired of waiting for him to approach, Lady Cornell came forward. Vane’s initial reaction was to give the woman the cut direct, punishment for her wicked lies and tawdry tales. Then again, perhaps she might prove useful in his quest to bring Lord Cornell to his knees.
“Lord Trevane. I must say you’re the last person I expected to see this evening.” She thrust her hand at him leaving him no option but to press his lips to her silk glove.
“Lady Cornell,” Vane said, straightening. “May I present Lord Farleigh?”
The lady was obliged to offer Farleigh her hand. “My lord.” Farleigh barely had a chance to greet her when she snatched her hand away and turned her attention back to Vane. “Are you interested in learning of the colonel’s southern exploration or have you come to conduct one of your own?”
Farleigh cleared his throat, no doubt tired of hearing veiled attempts at seduction. “Excuse me, but I shall await you in the ballroom.” He bowed and left them alone.
Good.
It would serve Vane’s purpose if Cornell chose that moment to venture from the library. He might even consider putting a hand on the woman’s waist, trailing a finger seductively down her bare arm if it would rouse Cornell’s ire.
“Well, my lord?” Lady Cornell continued. “Are there any uncharted regions you have yet to probe?”
“It might surprise you to learn that I am weary of exploring pastures new.” Two years ago, he would have taken Lady Cornell, hard and quick, over her husband’s desk, hoping she possessed the power needed to banish the ghost of Estelle. And yet now he found the thought abhorrent. “Perhaps the time has come to marry, to invest all efforts on one particular lady.”
Panic flashed in the woman’s eyes. “But you … you can’t.” Her chin trembled, and she shook her head to gather her composure. “A gentleman with such strong passions could never be happy with a simpering miss.”
“Then perhaps I shall wed a courtesan, a woman with immense skill in the bedchamber,” he said merely to observe the lady’s reaction. “Besides, as a peer I must marry, eventually.” The lie fell easily from his lips. He did not care about siring an heir, not anymore.
Lady Cornell’s eyes widened. “Of course you must, but perhaps you should wait a while longer.”
“And why is that?” What was this woman about?
“Because an option may soon present itself. One you may not have considered before.”
“How so?”
Was she implying he might marry her?
The lady had conveniently forgotten bigamy was a crime punishable by death. If she cared so little for her pretty neck, perhaps she was of a mind to murder her husband while he slept in his bed. And to think she had once been on a list of eligible ladies his father suggested he might wed.
“A young woman marries an old man for one reason only.” She stepped closer and placed her hand on his chest. “Would you not like to bed me, Vane? You would not be disappointed. Like my mother, I do possess some talents of my own when it comes to pleasing men.”
“I’m sure you do.”
From what he recalled, her mother had many lovers over the years, including one particular favourite though she took that secret to the grave.
“I’m more than happy to demonstrate if only you’ll give me a chance.” Her hand dropped to the waistband of his breeches. Concealed amid the folds of her gown, her fingers ventured down to stroke the length of his cock.
Damnation!
Vane gritted his teeth and stepped back. “Your husband may have something to say about that.” Cornell was craven. Revenge was something he concocted behind closed doors.
“Cornell is old. One never knows when one might end up a widow.”
Lord, the woman was just as cold-hearted as her husband. The urge to offer a disparaging remark took hold. But he would bide his time. Impatience be damned. Experience had taught him that the most painful blows came unexpectedly, catching the victim unawares.