A Wicked Liaison. Christine Merrill

      The Dowager Duchess of Wellford perched on the edge of her seat in her parlour, staring hopefully at the man on the couch next to her.

      He was about to speak.

      It was about time. He had been hinting for weeks.

      She did her best to drum up a thrill of anticipation.

      ‘Constance, there is something I wish to speak to you about.’

      ‘Yes, Jeremy.’ Jeremy Manders was not her ideal, of course, but neither had her late husband been, and they had suited well enough.

      ‘We have known each other for a long time, since well before your husband passed. And I have always held you in high esteem.’

      She smiled and nodded encouragement. ‘And I you. You were Robert’s good friend, and mine.’

      ‘But I will admit, even while Robert was alive, feeling the occasional touch of envy at his good fortune in having you, Constance.’

      She blushed and averted her eyes.

      ‘I would never have dared say anything, of course, for Robert was my friend.’

      She looked up again, still smiling. ‘Of course not.’ Her late husband, Robert, was far too much in the conversation for her taste.

      ‘But you were quite the loveliest…still are, I mean, the loveliest woman of my acquaintance.’

      ‘Thank you, Jeremy.’ This was much better. She accepted the compliment graciously. But she wished that, just once, a man could comment on something other than her appearance.

      ‘I hesitated to say anything, while you were still in mourning. It would hardly have been respectful.’

      ‘Of course not.’ He was hesitating to say it now, as well. Why could he not just go down on a knee and speak the words?

      ‘But I think sufficient time has passed. And you do not appear to be otherwise engaged. I mean, you are not, are you?’

      ‘No. My affections are not held by another, and I am quite out of my widow’s weeds.’ And growing older by the minute. Was it too much to expect him to seize and kiss her? That would make the point clear enough.

      And it might be most romantic. But it would be too much to ask, and she forced herself not to wish for it.

      ‘So there is no one else? Well, that is good to know.’ He sagged with relief. ‘I thought, if you were free, that we might do well together. You find me attractive, I hope.’

      ‘Oh, yes, Jeremy.’ She hoped it was not too obvious to a casual observer that she was reaching the point where she would find any man kind enough to offer marriage to be of surpassing handsomeness.

      ‘And I assure you, I will be able to meet your expenses. I have ample resources, although I am not a duke, as your late husband was.’

      Robert again. But Jeremy could afford to pay her bills, so let him talk. ‘That is a great comfort to me.’

      ‘And I would want you to get whatever gowns and frippery you might wish, as soon as possible. It must be most tiring to you to have to wear black for a year, and then to make do with what you had before.’

      Shopping for things she did not need. She had quite forgotten what it was like. She smiled, but assured him, ‘Really, it is only foolishness. It does not matter so much.’

      ‘Oh, but it does to me. I wish to see you as bright and happy as ever you were.’

      Relief flooded through her.

      ‘I will provide a house, of course. Near Vauxhall, so that we might go there of an evening. And a generous allowance.’

      ‘House?’ The flood of relief became tainted with a trickle of doubt.

      ‘Yes. And the dresses, of course. You could keep a staff, of…’ he calculated ‘…three.’

      ‘Three?’

      ‘And your maid as well,’ he amended. ‘Which would really be four.’

      ‘Jeremy, we are not negotiating my living arrangements.’

      ‘Of course not. Any number you choose. I want you to be comfortable. And I brought with me a token of my esteem.’ He reached into his pocket, and produced not a small square box, but one that was thin and slender.

      She took it from him and snapped it open. ‘You got me a bracelet?’

      It was his turn to blush. ‘There were matching earbobs. I could have got those as well, but perhaps after you say yes…’

      ‘Jeremy, it sounds almost as though you are offering me a carte blanche.’ She laughed a trifle too loudly at the ridiculousness of the idea.

      She waited for him to laugh in return and say she was mistaken.

      And he was silent.

      She snapped the box shut again and thrust it back to him. ‘Take it.’

      ‘You do not like it? Because I can get another.’

      ‘I do not want another. I do not want this one.’ She could feel the colour in her face turning to an angry flush as her voice rose. ‘You come here, talking of esteem, and your great fondness for me, then you offer to put me up and pay my expenses?’

      Jeremy stiffened, a picture of offended dignity. ‘Well, someone must, Constance. You cannot go on much longer living on your own. And surely, after twelve years of marriage, and over a year alone, you must miss the affections of a man.’

      ‘Oh, must I?’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘I do not miss them so much that I seek to dishonour myself outside of marriage just to pay my bills. I thought, if you held me in such high esteem…’

      ‘Well…’he swallowed ‘…here’s the rub. Father will be wanting me to guarantee the inheritance. Now it’s a long time before I need to worry about such. But when it comes time for me to marry, I will have to pick someone—’ he searched for the correct words and finished ‘—that my father approves of.’

      ‘And he will not approve of a thirty-year-old childless widow. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it, but you lack the spine to say it out loud? You wish to bounce me between the sheets and parade me around Vauxhall in shiny new clothes. But when it is time for you to marry, you will go to Almack’s for a wide-hipped virgin.’

      Jeremy squirmed in his chair. ‘When you say it that way, it sounds so—’

      ‘Accurate? Candid? Cruel? It sounds cruel because it is, Jeremy. Now take your compliments and your jewellery and your offers of help and get them from my house.’

      Jeremy drew himself up and gathered what righteousness he could. ‘Your house? For how long, Constance? It is apparent to those who know you well that you are in over your head, even if you do not wish to admit it. I only meant to help you in a way that might be advantageous to both of us. And I am sure there are women who will not find what I’m suggesting so repugnant.’

      There was that tone again. She had heard it before, when she’d refused such offers in the past. Reminding her not to be too particular, or to expect more than she deserved, but to settle for what was offered and be glad of it. She glared at him in silence and pointed to the door.

      He rose. ‘Very well. If you change your mind on the subject, send a message to my rooms. I will wait, for a time. But not for long, Constance. Do not think on it overlong. And if you expect a better offer from Barton, then you are sadly mistaken. You’ll find soon