Insatiable, p.23
Insatiable, page 23
He pulled almost completely out of her and drove in again. She dug her heels into his backside, wanting him deeper and harder.
“Can you go faster?” She copied what he did and sucked the underside of his chin—it was the best she could do since his cravat was still tied around his neck.
He tipped his head down and kissed her, his tongue driving into her mouth with the same penetrating strokes as his cock into her sex. His body picked up speed, thrusting into her with a relentless passion that prompted lights to dance behind her eyelids. Her orgasm was there, just beyond reach. It didn’t seem quite as accessible as the others.
His hand closed around her shoulder, then cupped her neck briefly before he dragged his palm down to her breast where he pinched and pulled the nipple. This shot a jolt of pleasure directly to her core, propelling her to the edge. But his hand didn’t stop there. He skimmed down over her abdomen until he reached her clitoris. With a series of strokes, he sent her where she wanted to go, right back to where the ultimate satisfaction dwelled.
As her body shuddered with release, Lucien continued to thrust. She squeezed her legs around him and held him tightly.
“Kat, I need to—”
His backside clenched. His entire body went taut, and she knew he was arriving. She kissed his jaw and cupped the back of his head.
Suddenly, he pulled her legs from his hips and withdrew his cock. He swore.
“I can’t tell if that was good or bad,” she said.
He pushed up as if she’d caught fire and rolled to his back. Then he swore again. Several times. In increasingly colorful ways.
“What’s wrong?” Kat reached to smooth down her dress and immediately put her hand in something wet. “Oh, you spilled.”
“On purpose, but not soon enough. Shit. Sorry.” He got up from the other side of the bed and went to the washstand. She heard a drawer open, but couldn’t see what he was doing because his back was to her.
When he turned, which was rather quickly, he was buttoning his fall. Moving swiftly, he came around the bed with a cloth. He frowned at her. “I completely messed that up. I meant to leave you before I started to arrive. To prevent a child.”
Of course, his seed was necessary to do that. “Well, it feels as if you spilled on me and my gown.”
He handed her the cloth. “Not all of it, I’m afraid.”
Kat sat up and dabbed at the mess. It wasn’t a terrible amount, but it was good she didn’t plan to return to the assembly. “I’m sure this will wash out.”
“Unless you want the maids to know what you were doing, you should wash it yourself. Say something was spilled on you.”
Laughing, she gave him a wry look. “That’s precisely what happened. But I shall be vague. Why do you look so distressed?”
“Because I didn’t leave you soon enough. What if you get with child?”
That was not something she’d considered, and that was foolish of her. She didn’t want children any more than she wanted to be married—at least not now. “I’m sure I won’t.” She ignored the troubling sense of unease at the back of her mind.
“You must be vigilant for your courses,” he said with a grim expression. “Promise to let me know immediately. If you are with child, I will get a special license and we will wed.”
While the thought of spending a lifetime in Lucien’s arms was more than tempting, Kat hadn’t ever been seeking a proposal. “I haven’t changed my mind about marriage.”
“You can’t have a child out of wedlock.”
“Plenty of women do.”
He bent to pick up his waistcoat and drew it on. “My God, Kat, sometimes you are infuriating in your lack of concern. If you won’t think of yourself, think of the child and what it would mean for them. And think of your family and how it would affect them.”
“If I had to have a child, I wouldn’t do so here in London. I’d go somewhere else and either find a home for it, or mayhap I’d decide to mother it myself. No one would ever need to know.”
“Those kinds of secrets never seem to stay secret,” he muttered. He stared at her. “This is another of your fade-into-obscurity plans?”
“Slightly different from what I proposed to you earlier because I would actually go away. Unless I gave the child away to someone else to raise, then I suppose I could come back after taking an extended ‘trip.’”
He’d put his shoes back on, which he’d apparently removed at some point, while she spoke. “What about me? What if I want to raise my child?”
“Do you?”
Jaw clenching, he averted his gaze.
Kat set the soiled cloth beside her and pulled her chemise back up over her arms and breasts and cinched the neckline. “You don’t want a child any more than I do, nor do you want to wed. The last thing I want is you marrying me because you feel you must.” She shook her head vehemently.
“I—”
She slid from the bed and adjusted her gown so she could pull it back up over her torso. There was no point in putting her corset back on, nor would she need to explain not wearing it. She always discarded it when she became overwrought. “You what?” She turned her back to him so he could lace her dress.
“I don’t know.” He tugged at the laces and drew the garment closed.
“No need to do it tightly. It won’t fit quite right without the stays anyway.”
He finished, and she found her slippers. Moving her corset aside, she sat down on the chair she’d occupied earlier and slid her feet into her shoes. “Are you going to fetch Ruark’s coach?”
“I’ll send you home in mine. That way, Ruark’s coachman can’t say how long you took to leave.”
She waved her hand. “Don’t overthink this. It won’t matter if I was up here for as long as we were. It’s not unusual for me to take a great deal of time to recover.”
“But I’ve been gone too, and I’d just as soon people not make any presumptions.”
“Do what you will. Where shall I wait?”
“Go down to the bottom of the back stairs when you’re ready. A man will see you out to the coach.”
“You’re not worried this man will tell tales?” she asked. He seemed terribly concerned with every detail.
“He won’t.”
“Your footmen are that trustworthy?” she asked.
“He isn’t a footman, and he won’t be in Phoenix Club livery. I’m going now.” He went to the door.
Kat stood, smoothing her hands down her horribly rumpled gown. She’d have no problem explaining that away too. “You’re not even going to kiss me before you leave?”
Exhaling, he came toward her. He took her hands. “Promise you’ll tell me if there’s a babe. There are…options, and I would be honored if you’d discuss them with me.”
He was also incredibly fixated on the potential of a child. But she appreciated his concern and his support, particularly for discussing options. “I promise,” she said softly.
He kissed her forehead, then her lips. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “We will handle anything together.”
Together. She’d never had a partner before. Jess was the closest friend she’d ever had, and while Ruark and Cass were wonderful, it wasn’t the same as this. Whatever this “together” with Lucien meant.
His mouth met hers again, and he briefly clutched her to him. Very briefly, because he abruptly stepped away with a laugh. “Unless I want to finish the evening smelling like fornication, I should stay away from your dress.” He grimaced. “I am so sorry about that.”
“It will be fine—all of it,” she assured him. “Now go.”
She pushed the specter of a child from her mind in favor of reliving the joy of having Lucien in her arms. Plus, he’d mentioned next time. Yes, she’d focus on that. In the meantime, she needed to add several things to her list.
Chapter 18
When Lucien arrived at the Wexfords’ house on Sunday for the family dinner, he was already feeling brittle. Between waiting for the Foreign Office’s next move regarding the club and his deepening connection to Kat, he wasn’t sleeping as much as he needed to, and he was on edge, which seemed to be the norm of late. Add the fact that he was going to spend the evening in his father’s company, and Lucien wished he’d drunk at least a half bottle of whisky beforehand. Perhaps then he could have some hope of relaxing.
The time spent before dinner in the drawing room was thankfully brief, and Cass was smart—and kind—enough to seat Lucien at the opposite end of the table from his father. While it was generally required that the highest-ranking guest be seated next to the host, Cass knew her father would prefer to sit beside her instead of the “Irishman.” That meant Lucien got to sit next to Ruark, and Kat was seated on the other side of him.
During the first course, Lucien tipped his head toward her. “Are you behind this seating arrangement?” he whispered.
“No. It’s entirely luck.” Kat flashed him a smile, and the brilliance of it struck him like a bolt of lightning. Had she ever looked so cheerful, so…happy?
Lucien glanced down the table toward his sister and hoped she hadn’t picked up on anything between them. Or worse, that she was randomly playing matchmaker.
No, she wouldn’t do that. Not to Kat. To Lucien however…he’d meddled in enough pairings to acknowledge that he likely deserved someone trying to match him.
“I trust you were well after leaving the club on Friday?” Lucien asked softly.
“Quite. You entirely cured my agitation. I think I’ve found something that soothes me even better than squeezing.” She kept her voice low, but it wasn’t quite a whisper. Lucien feared Sabrina, who sat on her other side, might hear. And so he stopped talking to her. At least about anything to do with them.
Throughout dinner, he was aware of her presence, her lavender scent teasing him. He’d been tempted to touch her. Finally, when the final course was served, he let his hand stray to her chair, where he barely caressed her hip.
Her gaze snapped to his, her lips parting. He immediately regretted his action because now he wanted to kiss her. And his cock was swelling.
To tame his lust, he reminded himself that she could already be carrying his child. That had the effect of being tossed into an icy lake. In truth, that possibility had been part of why he hadn’t been sleeping much.
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t bungled things before. He’d been late pulling out—or had simply not done it, particularly in his youth—on many occasions. To date, though, he wasn’t aware of any by-blows. He supposed that didn’t mean there weren’t any, and damn if that didn’t trouble him from time to time.
Was that why he was so agitated about the possibility of Kat carrying? Perhaps, but it was also the way he felt about her. She was not like any other woman he’d taken to bed. Hell, he hadn’t even really taken her to bed yet. How he wanted to. He glanced over at her, hoping his longing didn’t show on his face.
There was also the simple question of the child. He’d suggested to Kat that he might want to raise it. She’d seen right through him though, prodding him for the truth. The real truth was that he didn’t know how he felt. He’d never imagined having children because he’d never imagined getting married.
But that wasn’t entirely true. There had been times when he was in Spain, when he’d felt alone and afraid. He’d had comrades to talk with, to avoid the stress of war with, but it wasn’t the same as someone to whom he could bare his soul. He’d never had a person like that.
Kat, he realized, could be that person. She made him say and do things he normally wouldn’t. She made him think about possibilities he’d never entertained—children, for heaven’s sake. It wasn’t just that. He’d begun to wonder if it would be terrible if he walked away from the club…and straight into her arms.
He also acknowledged that part of the reason he was so drawn to her was her view that she was an aberration. No, it wasn’t her view. It was the opinion and judgment of others. And it had burrowed deep within her, despite her ability to cover up her feelings nearly all the time.
Whatever had happened Friday at the assembly had upset her greatly. When he’d returned to the ballroom, he’d tried to determine what had happened. Cass had told him that people were saying Kat had fumbled while dancing and that another young lady had said something to her, which had caused her to flail and strike Sir Rowland. No one had known what the young lady said. Apparently, the young lady wasn’t providing the information either.
Lucien could imagine, but he wanted to know for sure. He had been able to identify her and would ensure she didn’t return to any future assemblies. He’d also put it out that night that gossip about his sister’s sister-in-law at the club would not be tolerated. He didn’t like any sort of nasty gossip. That wasn’t what the Phoenix Club was about. It was a haven for people who were too often the butt of such malice.
As dinner concluded, Lucien held Kat’s chair. She turned her head toward him. “Why did you do that? When you touched me?”
He gave her a faint smile. “Couldn’t resist. Don’t worry, I’ll keep my hands to myself for the remainder of the evening.”
She gave him a brief pout. “That’s unfortunate. Perhaps I won’t,” she added saucily as she grazed her hand against his.
Then she spun on her heel and preceded him from the dining room. Lucien smiled faintly as he walked toward the door. He made eye contact with his father, who was watching him with a peculiar look. He hadn’t seen Kat touch his hand, had he? No, the chair would have been in the way.
Before Lucien could make his escape, the duke came toward him. They were the only two left in the dining room. “You and Miss Shaughnessy are the only unwed people in attendance.”
Lucien bristled in the man’s close presence. “Not by design. This is a family gathering. We are simply the only ones who aren’t married. Actually, that isn’t true. You aren’t married.”
“She would make you a good wife. She’s smart and focused on enriching tasks. Cassandra says she likes to conduct research and spends a good deal of time reading. She’s not flighty or silly.”
“She is, however, Irish. That can’t recommend her to you.”
“It’s not ideal, especially since your sister already married one of those. However, Miss Shaughnessy doesn’t have an accent since she was raised in Gloucestershire, nor does she seem to practice That Religion.”
“Because her mother married her deceased husband’s steward and fled Ireland. That can’t recommend her to you either.” Lucien narrowed his eyes at the duke. “Why are you playing matchmaker?”
When Lucien was younger, his father had suggested a handful of potential brides, but had abandoned the prospect upon Lucien’s disinterest. He’d never made a secret, however, of his disappointment that Lucien preferred to remain unwed.
“I’m making conversation more than anything. I thought I saw something between the two of you when you stood up from the table, but perhaps I was mistaken. Come, I need to speak with you. We’ll use Wexford’s study.” The duke pivoted and departed the dining room without waiting to see if Lucien would agree to accompany him.
Lucien had half a mind to ignore him and go up to the drawing room instead. Or perhaps leave entirely. But no, curiosity and a perverted sense of obedience drove him to follow the man.
The duke stood near the hearth, facing the doorway when Lucien walked in. “Close the door,” he said.
Lucien did so, but didn’t move farther into the room. “To what do I owe this honor?”
“I’m aware of what the Foreign Office is demanding of you.” The duke clasped his hands behind his back and lifted his chin. His gaze didn’t quite meet Lucien’s. “I can help you, if you’ll allow it.”
“They told you?” Fury twisted Lucien’s insides. “I thought you had retired.”
“Fallin told me.”
Lucien vowed to punch Dougal. Twice. “He should not have done that.”
“He said you were being stubborn. Fallin knows, as do I, that you can’t win this battle. Just walk away from the club and take whatever compensation they’re offering. It may be enough to start a new club. If it’s not, I’ll give you whatever you need.”
If the house had fallen down around Lucien, he would have been less shocked. “Now you’re offering me help?”
“You need it,” the duke said with great exasperation.
Lucien gritted his teeth. “I needed it before, when I came to see you asking for money weeks ago.”
“The Foreign Office won’t take your money. They want the club and what it affords them.”
“I would still give them what they want—the access and the secrecy. They just wouldn’t be able to dictate my membership.”
“That isn’t giving them what they want. You took your little experiment with inviting outcasts and pariahs too far.”
“It wasn’t an experiment. That is the Phoenix Club, and the Foreign Office liked that aspect when I explained how it would ensure a variety of people frequented the club.”
Unclasping his hands and tugging at the hem of his waistcoat, the duke exhaled. “Just take the damn compensation, Lucien. Your pride will recover.”
“This isn’t my pride! This is my work. Which you’ve never valued.”
“Then why am I offering to help you found a new club?” the duke asked softly, his dark eyes—which were like looking into a mirror of Lucien’s future—glittering.
“I haven’t the faintest fucking idea. What else did Dougal tell you?” Lucien feared the duke also knew that the Foreign Office was blaming him for an assassination he didn’t commit.
“Nothing.” The duke’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, but Lucien could see the wheels of his mind turning. “What else is there?”
For a moment, Lucien considered telling him the truth, but to what end? Did he really expect the man to help him, or that he could? It seemed there was nothing even the duke could do to change the Foreign Office’s mind about forcing Lucien from the club.
“Tell me,” his father pressed.
Lucien cocked his head and gave him a humorless smile. “Though you’re retired, I’m confident you can probably find out what you need to from the Foreign Office. Indeed, I’m sure they’d welcome your help in getting me to do their bidding.”
“Can you go faster?” She copied what he did and sucked the underside of his chin—it was the best she could do since his cravat was still tied around his neck.
He tipped his head down and kissed her, his tongue driving into her mouth with the same penetrating strokes as his cock into her sex. His body picked up speed, thrusting into her with a relentless passion that prompted lights to dance behind her eyelids. Her orgasm was there, just beyond reach. It didn’t seem quite as accessible as the others.
His hand closed around her shoulder, then cupped her neck briefly before he dragged his palm down to her breast where he pinched and pulled the nipple. This shot a jolt of pleasure directly to her core, propelling her to the edge. But his hand didn’t stop there. He skimmed down over her abdomen until he reached her clitoris. With a series of strokes, he sent her where she wanted to go, right back to where the ultimate satisfaction dwelled.
As her body shuddered with release, Lucien continued to thrust. She squeezed her legs around him and held him tightly.
“Kat, I need to—”
His backside clenched. His entire body went taut, and she knew he was arriving. She kissed his jaw and cupped the back of his head.
Suddenly, he pulled her legs from his hips and withdrew his cock. He swore.
“I can’t tell if that was good or bad,” she said.
He pushed up as if she’d caught fire and rolled to his back. Then he swore again. Several times. In increasingly colorful ways.
“What’s wrong?” Kat reached to smooth down her dress and immediately put her hand in something wet. “Oh, you spilled.”
“On purpose, but not soon enough. Shit. Sorry.” He got up from the other side of the bed and went to the washstand. She heard a drawer open, but couldn’t see what he was doing because his back was to her.
When he turned, which was rather quickly, he was buttoning his fall. Moving swiftly, he came around the bed with a cloth. He frowned at her. “I completely messed that up. I meant to leave you before I started to arrive. To prevent a child.”
Of course, his seed was necessary to do that. “Well, it feels as if you spilled on me and my gown.”
He handed her the cloth. “Not all of it, I’m afraid.”
Kat sat up and dabbed at the mess. It wasn’t a terrible amount, but it was good she didn’t plan to return to the assembly. “I’m sure this will wash out.”
“Unless you want the maids to know what you were doing, you should wash it yourself. Say something was spilled on you.”
Laughing, she gave him a wry look. “That’s precisely what happened. But I shall be vague. Why do you look so distressed?”
“Because I didn’t leave you soon enough. What if you get with child?”
That was not something she’d considered, and that was foolish of her. She didn’t want children any more than she wanted to be married—at least not now. “I’m sure I won’t.” She ignored the troubling sense of unease at the back of her mind.
“You must be vigilant for your courses,” he said with a grim expression. “Promise to let me know immediately. If you are with child, I will get a special license and we will wed.”
While the thought of spending a lifetime in Lucien’s arms was more than tempting, Kat hadn’t ever been seeking a proposal. “I haven’t changed my mind about marriage.”
“You can’t have a child out of wedlock.”
“Plenty of women do.”
He bent to pick up his waistcoat and drew it on. “My God, Kat, sometimes you are infuriating in your lack of concern. If you won’t think of yourself, think of the child and what it would mean for them. And think of your family and how it would affect them.”
“If I had to have a child, I wouldn’t do so here in London. I’d go somewhere else and either find a home for it, or mayhap I’d decide to mother it myself. No one would ever need to know.”
“Those kinds of secrets never seem to stay secret,” he muttered. He stared at her. “This is another of your fade-into-obscurity plans?”
“Slightly different from what I proposed to you earlier because I would actually go away. Unless I gave the child away to someone else to raise, then I suppose I could come back after taking an extended ‘trip.’”
He’d put his shoes back on, which he’d apparently removed at some point, while she spoke. “What about me? What if I want to raise my child?”
“Do you?”
Jaw clenching, he averted his gaze.
Kat set the soiled cloth beside her and pulled her chemise back up over her arms and breasts and cinched the neckline. “You don’t want a child any more than I do, nor do you want to wed. The last thing I want is you marrying me because you feel you must.” She shook her head vehemently.
“I—”
She slid from the bed and adjusted her gown so she could pull it back up over her torso. There was no point in putting her corset back on, nor would she need to explain not wearing it. She always discarded it when she became overwrought. “You what?” She turned her back to him so he could lace her dress.
“I don’t know.” He tugged at the laces and drew the garment closed.
“No need to do it tightly. It won’t fit quite right without the stays anyway.”
He finished, and she found her slippers. Moving her corset aside, she sat down on the chair she’d occupied earlier and slid her feet into her shoes. “Are you going to fetch Ruark’s coach?”
“I’ll send you home in mine. That way, Ruark’s coachman can’t say how long you took to leave.”
She waved her hand. “Don’t overthink this. It won’t matter if I was up here for as long as we were. It’s not unusual for me to take a great deal of time to recover.”
“But I’ve been gone too, and I’d just as soon people not make any presumptions.”
“Do what you will. Where shall I wait?”
“Go down to the bottom of the back stairs when you’re ready. A man will see you out to the coach.”
“You’re not worried this man will tell tales?” she asked. He seemed terribly concerned with every detail.
“He won’t.”
“Your footmen are that trustworthy?” she asked.
“He isn’t a footman, and he won’t be in Phoenix Club livery. I’m going now.” He went to the door.
Kat stood, smoothing her hands down her horribly rumpled gown. She’d have no problem explaining that away too. “You’re not even going to kiss me before you leave?”
Exhaling, he came toward her. He took her hands. “Promise you’ll tell me if there’s a babe. There are…options, and I would be honored if you’d discuss them with me.”
He was also incredibly fixated on the potential of a child. But she appreciated his concern and his support, particularly for discussing options. “I promise,” she said softly.
He kissed her forehead, then her lips. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “We will handle anything together.”
Together. She’d never had a partner before. Jess was the closest friend she’d ever had, and while Ruark and Cass were wonderful, it wasn’t the same as this. Whatever this “together” with Lucien meant.
His mouth met hers again, and he briefly clutched her to him. Very briefly, because he abruptly stepped away with a laugh. “Unless I want to finish the evening smelling like fornication, I should stay away from your dress.” He grimaced. “I am so sorry about that.”
“It will be fine—all of it,” she assured him. “Now go.”
She pushed the specter of a child from her mind in favor of reliving the joy of having Lucien in her arms. Plus, he’d mentioned next time. Yes, she’d focus on that. In the meantime, she needed to add several things to her list.
Chapter 18
When Lucien arrived at the Wexfords’ house on Sunday for the family dinner, he was already feeling brittle. Between waiting for the Foreign Office’s next move regarding the club and his deepening connection to Kat, he wasn’t sleeping as much as he needed to, and he was on edge, which seemed to be the norm of late. Add the fact that he was going to spend the evening in his father’s company, and Lucien wished he’d drunk at least a half bottle of whisky beforehand. Perhaps then he could have some hope of relaxing.
The time spent before dinner in the drawing room was thankfully brief, and Cass was smart—and kind—enough to seat Lucien at the opposite end of the table from his father. While it was generally required that the highest-ranking guest be seated next to the host, Cass knew her father would prefer to sit beside her instead of the “Irishman.” That meant Lucien got to sit next to Ruark, and Kat was seated on the other side of him.
During the first course, Lucien tipped his head toward her. “Are you behind this seating arrangement?” he whispered.
“No. It’s entirely luck.” Kat flashed him a smile, and the brilliance of it struck him like a bolt of lightning. Had she ever looked so cheerful, so…happy?
Lucien glanced down the table toward his sister and hoped she hadn’t picked up on anything between them. Or worse, that she was randomly playing matchmaker.
No, she wouldn’t do that. Not to Kat. To Lucien however…he’d meddled in enough pairings to acknowledge that he likely deserved someone trying to match him.
“I trust you were well after leaving the club on Friday?” Lucien asked softly.
“Quite. You entirely cured my agitation. I think I’ve found something that soothes me even better than squeezing.” She kept her voice low, but it wasn’t quite a whisper. Lucien feared Sabrina, who sat on her other side, might hear. And so he stopped talking to her. At least about anything to do with them.
Throughout dinner, he was aware of her presence, her lavender scent teasing him. He’d been tempted to touch her. Finally, when the final course was served, he let his hand stray to her chair, where he barely caressed her hip.
Her gaze snapped to his, her lips parting. He immediately regretted his action because now he wanted to kiss her. And his cock was swelling.
To tame his lust, he reminded himself that she could already be carrying his child. That had the effect of being tossed into an icy lake. In truth, that possibility had been part of why he hadn’t been sleeping much.
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t bungled things before. He’d been late pulling out—or had simply not done it, particularly in his youth—on many occasions. To date, though, he wasn’t aware of any by-blows. He supposed that didn’t mean there weren’t any, and damn if that didn’t trouble him from time to time.
Was that why he was so agitated about the possibility of Kat carrying? Perhaps, but it was also the way he felt about her. She was not like any other woman he’d taken to bed. Hell, he hadn’t even really taken her to bed yet. How he wanted to. He glanced over at her, hoping his longing didn’t show on his face.
There was also the simple question of the child. He’d suggested to Kat that he might want to raise it. She’d seen right through him though, prodding him for the truth. The real truth was that he didn’t know how he felt. He’d never imagined having children because he’d never imagined getting married.
But that wasn’t entirely true. There had been times when he was in Spain, when he’d felt alone and afraid. He’d had comrades to talk with, to avoid the stress of war with, but it wasn’t the same as someone to whom he could bare his soul. He’d never had a person like that.
Kat, he realized, could be that person. She made him say and do things he normally wouldn’t. She made him think about possibilities he’d never entertained—children, for heaven’s sake. It wasn’t just that. He’d begun to wonder if it would be terrible if he walked away from the club…and straight into her arms.
He also acknowledged that part of the reason he was so drawn to her was her view that she was an aberration. No, it wasn’t her view. It was the opinion and judgment of others. And it had burrowed deep within her, despite her ability to cover up her feelings nearly all the time.
Whatever had happened Friday at the assembly had upset her greatly. When he’d returned to the ballroom, he’d tried to determine what had happened. Cass had told him that people were saying Kat had fumbled while dancing and that another young lady had said something to her, which had caused her to flail and strike Sir Rowland. No one had known what the young lady said. Apparently, the young lady wasn’t providing the information either.
Lucien could imagine, but he wanted to know for sure. He had been able to identify her and would ensure she didn’t return to any future assemblies. He’d also put it out that night that gossip about his sister’s sister-in-law at the club would not be tolerated. He didn’t like any sort of nasty gossip. That wasn’t what the Phoenix Club was about. It was a haven for people who were too often the butt of such malice.
As dinner concluded, Lucien held Kat’s chair. She turned her head toward him. “Why did you do that? When you touched me?”
He gave her a faint smile. “Couldn’t resist. Don’t worry, I’ll keep my hands to myself for the remainder of the evening.”
She gave him a brief pout. “That’s unfortunate. Perhaps I won’t,” she added saucily as she grazed her hand against his.
Then she spun on her heel and preceded him from the dining room. Lucien smiled faintly as he walked toward the door. He made eye contact with his father, who was watching him with a peculiar look. He hadn’t seen Kat touch his hand, had he? No, the chair would have been in the way.
Before Lucien could make his escape, the duke came toward him. They were the only two left in the dining room. “You and Miss Shaughnessy are the only unwed people in attendance.”
Lucien bristled in the man’s close presence. “Not by design. This is a family gathering. We are simply the only ones who aren’t married. Actually, that isn’t true. You aren’t married.”
“She would make you a good wife. She’s smart and focused on enriching tasks. Cassandra says she likes to conduct research and spends a good deal of time reading. She’s not flighty or silly.”
“She is, however, Irish. That can’t recommend her to you.”
“It’s not ideal, especially since your sister already married one of those. However, Miss Shaughnessy doesn’t have an accent since she was raised in Gloucestershire, nor does she seem to practice That Religion.”
“Because her mother married her deceased husband’s steward and fled Ireland. That can’t recommend her to you either.” Lucien narrowed his eyes at the duke. “Why are you playing matchmaker?”
When Lucien was younger, his father had suggested a handful of potential brides, but had abandoned the prospect upon Lucien’s disinterest. He’d never made a secret, however, of his disappointment that Lucien preferred to remain unwed.
“I’m making conversation more than anything. I thought I saw something between the two of you when you stood up from the table, but perhaps I was mistaken. Come, I need to speak with you. We’ll use Wexford’s study.” The duke pivoted and departed the dining room without waiting to see if Lucien would agree to accompany him.
Lucien had half a mind to ignore him and go up to the drawing room instead. Or perhaps leave entirely. But no, curiosity and a perverted sense of obedience drove him to follow the man.
The duke stood near the hearth, facing the doorway when Lucien walked in. “Close the door,” he said.
Lucien did so, but didn’t move farther into the room. “To what do I owe this honor?”
“I’m aware of what the Foreign Office is demanding of you.” The duke clasped his hands behind his back and lifted his chin. His gaze didn’t quite meet Lucien’s. “I can help you, if you’ll allow it.”
“They told you?” Fury twisted Lucien’s insides. “I thought you had retired.”
“Fallin told me.”
Lucien vowed to punch Dougal. Twice. “He should not have done that.”
“He said you were being stubborn. Fallin knows, as do I, that you can’t win this battle. Just walk away from the club and take whatever compensation they’re offering. It may be enough to start a new club. If it’s not, I’ll give you whatever you need.”
If the house had fallen down around Lucien, he would have been less shocked. “Now you’re offering me help?”
“You need it,” the duke said with great exasperation.
Lucien gritted his teeth. “I needed it before, when I came to see you asking for money weeks ago.”
“The Foreign Office won’t take your money. They want the club and what it affords them.”
“I would still give them what they want—the access and the secrecy. They just wouldn’t be able to dictate my membership.”
“That isn’t giving them what they want. You took your little experiment with inviting outcasts and pariahs too far.”
“It wasn’t an experiment. That is the Phoenix Club, and the Foreign Office liked that aspect when I explained how it would ensure a variety of people frequented the club.”
Unclasping his hands and tugging at the hem of his waistcoat, the duke exhaled. “Just take the damn compensation, Lucien. Your pride will recover.”
“This isn’t my pride! This is my work. Which you’ve never valued.”
“Then why am I offering to help you found a new club?” the duke asked softly, his dark eyes—which were like looking into a mirror of Lucien’s future—glittering.
“I haven’t the faintest fucking idea. What else did Dougal tell you?” Lucien feared the duke also knew that the Foreign Office was blaming him for an assassination he didn’t commit.
“Nothing.” The duke’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, but Lucien could see the wheels of his mind turning. “What else is there?”
For a moment, Lucien considered telling him the truth, but to what end? Did he really expect the man to help him, or that he could? It seemed there was nothing even the duke could do to change the Foreign Office’s mind about forcing Lucien from the club.
“Tell me,” his father pressed.
Lucien cocked his head and gave him a humorless smile. “Though you’re retired, I’m confident you can probably find out what you need to from the Foreign Office. Indeed, I’m sure they’d welcome your help in getting me to do their bidding.”
