Seduce Me, If You Dare by Alyssa Clarke
Chapter Eleven
Oscar laughed as his countess thundered past him, thrusting her hands in the air and hollering her victory like a wild jungle woman. Amazement gripped him that she had this playful, competitive side. He should have known, when they played chess, he was not able to sneak in a kiss. Her concentration was too fierce, especially when she was determined to trounce him. She had been very determined to beat him in this race, and she had, fairly and impressively. His countess was a damn splendid horsewoman.
“Be careful you do not break your pretty little neck,” he shouted, considering she had not brought the horse to a standstill and still had her hands in the air.
Gripping the reins, she slowed the animal and spun to face him. They were at Hyde Park at the unholy hour at 4 in the morning so that his wife could ride freely in breeches without inciting a public scandal. One was already happening in his house. The bloody servants grinned from ear to ear whenever they spied him with his countess. Perhaps it was to be expected, for they had been wrapped in each other’s arms for the last two days, loving and laughing. And then yesterday, his butler had witnessed Oscar chasing his wife up the stairs, for she had gotten under his guard and tripped him in defiance of him after telling her she was forbidden to attend the scandalous, decadent masquerade ball Countess Meade hosted annually.
“You think to order me about without hearing why I want to attend?” she’d cried.
“I am your lord and master, and I said it will be far too scandalous for you to attend, for any decent lady of society to attend.”
She had spluttered for several seconds, and when he’d reached out to draw her into his arms, the minx had once again dropped him on his backside, with a toss of her head and a tart retort that no man was her master, not even one she loved kissing and bedding. Oscar had been stunned for a moment before he had recovered his wits and thought to retaliate, knowing of her ticklishness.
He was acting like a besotted fool when he had worked all his life to be practical and responsible. His father had left him with an estate laden with debt, its many lands and estates houses had been in dire need of funding to enable adequate repairs and staffing. Despite his wife’s dowry having helped with the situation, he had to plan for supporting his children, wife, and family in the future. It was up to him to make sure his staff, workers and tenants were in good health and that their dependents were cared for. He had put aside a generous widow’s portion for her— a stately manor in Derbyshire and a portion of ten thousand pounds a year.
Oscar should be in his study going over his investment reports and the expenditure on the new farming techniques which had been implemented at two of their minor estates including the necessary repair costs and some further investment there. He had managed their finances and investments with shrewdness lest he make the mistakes of his forefathers. The serious depredation on their family fortunes had not begun with his grandfather. His more distant ancestors had been a rum lot. Some had brought in funds by methods he considered unacceptable, dubious and in one case positively illegal. There were plenty of skeletons in his family closets that he did not want to examine too thoroughly. And he admitted to himself that the rest had been either incompetent wastrels or debauched spendthrifts. His grandfather seemed to have been the worst of the whole damn bunch of them. He had combined licentious delusions of grandeur with utter selfishness and had apparently been incapable to budget or restrain his expensive tastes. Oscar was of the opinion that if his grandfather had not taken a devasting fall in the hunting field when reportedly in his cups that his descendants would be living in adject poverty. His father had tried his best to recover their fortunes and had made some retrenchment in the family expenses but had only sunken them into a deeper hole, for he had married for love and not practicality. No, the baton of saving the family had been passed to him, and he had done his duty.
Yet he had put aside work for today, the fourth day at that, simply to spend more time with his wife. A pastime he had immensely enjoyed. Oscar had discovered that he adored his wife’s wit, humor, and her vivacity for life. He had to admit that she had never worried him by over-spending her allowance or insisting on getting involved in some half-baked scheme. She had been a good chatelaine to his homes, neither penny-pinching nor unduly wasteful. In fact, she had taken some of the onerous burden from his shoulders by her good management. He had not appreciated it sufficiently before, but he had noticed her care for the staff and that everything run more smoothly since their marriage. Although young and untried she had gained the respect of his people and the minor squabbles and disasters which had taken up much of his time had simply vanished with the arrival of his bride.
There was something about her that simply turned his world on its head. And not for the first time, he realized he was damned lucky the woman he married was not only charming in appearance and also delightful in her character.
Prue trotted over to him, tugging the cap she wore to protect her identity even lower over her face.
“That my lord was glorious, would you like to race once more? I think we have at least another hour before anyone else comes to the park.”
He turned his horse about to trot beside her down the lane. “I would like to know who taught you how to land a man on his arse.”
She sent him a swift and contemplative sideways glance. “Must I tell you?”
“Was it another man?”
She grinned. “You are so growly when you are possessive. I like it.”
He arched a brow and suppressed his smile at her teasing countenance.
“It was indeed a gentleman. However, he was a tutor, and I was never alone in a room with him.” She bit into her lower lip, worrying at the flesh with her teeth before she said, “I am worried you might not approve.”
An odd feeling pressed tightly against his chest. He stared at his wife’s expression for a long time. She was flushed and uncomfortable, but what he had come to know about her these last few days always indicated a woman of fierce loyalty and such kindness. The damn woman was also damnably possessive. He still recalled her threats to duel with him should he dishonor their vows. It stood to reason she would never be unfaithful. Something turned over inside his chest at the awareness that he trusted her when he had only learned to trust in himself since he had inherited the earldom when he was three and twenty.
“And you fear my disapproval?”
“More my reaction to it.”
How unusual. “And what reaction would that be, my lady?”
She wrinkled her nose. “More dropping on your derriere, I’m afraid. This place… is very important to me.”
They exited Hyde Park and trotted down the cobbled pavement.
“Tell me about this place.”
“It is a lady’s club.”
For a minute, his mind blanked. That was the last thing he expected to hear. “You mean a club like a gentleman's club?”
She nodded carefully. “Yes. I have been a member for over a year…and these ladies are more than friends; they are my sisters.”
“Prue,” he said, tugging on the reins to slow the horse’s trot. “I would never forbid from partaking in something that you care about so much.”
She sniffed. “I really do not like that word.”
He supposed it was ‘forbid.’ His little wife did not like the reminder that he had the power to control and dictate her choices and actions. And he saw it clearly now; it was the lady’s club which had helped her confidence and the painful shyness that he had become familiar with. “Where is this club?”
“48 Berkeley Square.”
“And you learn to fight there?”
“Yes, I’ve learned how to box, fence, and the art of taking down an opponent who is twice my size. You see, many ladies in society have found themselves helpless at the hands of libertines, rakes, and fortune hunters and are unable to defend themselves against their advances. The matron of our club believes it important all her members know some form of self-defense. But the club is more than that…it is…I cannot express how wonderful it is, Oscar. There is no malicious gossiping or pretension. We are true friends. Best of all, there are no foolish rules or strict adherence to propriety. We remove our shoes and stockings. We let down our hair. We sometimes smoke cheroots or drink brandy without any sanctimonious, judgmental prig to scold us for not being faultless pictures of propriety, which can be dreadfully tiresome to have to conform to.”
Good God. He schooled his expression before he was lumped into the category of a sanctimonious prig. A judgmental one at that. His wife smoked cheroots and drank brandy. Oscar wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that. “Who is the owner of this club?”
“Our fearless leader is….” Prue frowned, casting him a suspicious frown.
Oscar rested a hand over his chest. “I swear upon my honor, all that you say to me will be held in the strictest of confidence.”
A dazzling smile curved her mouth. “The new Duchess of Hartford is our leader, and Theo is so wonderful!”
A duchess?He vaguely recalled Lady Theodosia at Prue’s side at balls upon occasion. The impression of a beautiful lady with a radiant smile rose in his thoughts. Prue always seemed animated and happy whenever they spoke together. “Does her husband know about her club?”
“Of course, he does! They have a love match,” she said a bit wistfully.
“Oh, one of those,” he said dryly as they turned onto Russel Square.
Prue frowned. “You do not believe in love?”
“It exists,” he said mildly.
“That is all you have to say on the matter?” she asked with surprising graveness.
A strange sensation assailed him. “Are we now discussing love?”
“You seemed dismissive of the idea of a love match.”
Oscar suddenly felt like a fish out of water, trying to run on land. “If the duke and duchess are happy, good for them.”
Prue’s gaze searched his face as if she tried to peer into him. “I am not talking about them, Oscar.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face, entirely lost. Oscar slowly went back over their recent conversation. Keenly recalling every second to see what he had been missing. Then he regrettably reached the same conclusion he had come to before. He was a damn fish out of water and understood nothing. “I…I am not at all certain what we are discussing, Prue.”
“Do you not believe in love matches?”
“I believe they exist,” he said slowly. “I have met several seemingly intelligent lords and gentlemen who swore the instant they saw a particular lady across a ballroom it was love at first sight.”
His wife was silent at that statement, and they trotted for several minutes in silence. He was beginning to suspect that he had said the wrong thing.
“Do you believe in love, Oscar?”
“Certainly. I do.”
Oscar sensed she was far from satisfied with his answer, and something fierce jolted through his heart. Was his wife wondering if they had love between them? How the hell did one measure love? He did not believe that claptrap about seeing someone for the first time and simply falling in love with them. For him, love was about duty, responsibility, and sacrifice. Love was everything one did to protect their family from all harm and ensure they lived a safe and comfortable life. That was how he understood love. That was what he respected.
They guided their horses around to the mews behind their house and dismounted. She walked ahead of him, her head lowered, and what he could see of her face appeared pensive. Silence stood between them like a castle wall. Shutting him out and its walls unscalable. He feared she was deliberately putting distance between them and that the fragile foundations of their blooming intimacy might come crashing down if he did not think of the right thing to say.
“Prue?”
She paused and turned to listen to him. Walking up to her, he cupped her cheek and kissed her. For a moment, she was stiff in his arms, then with a soft sigh, she parted her lips and kissed him back. In the familiarity of their passion, a tight knot that had formed in his gut loosened, and the erratic pounding of his heart calmed. Breaking their kiss, he murmured, “Someone once told me I could be a bit bacon-brained.”
She giggled sweetly. “Never say so.”
“Whenever we speak, if there is something you want me to understand, do not hesitate to tell me, countess. Sometimes I need things to be spelled out to me explicitly. You are my wife and lover.”
“Perhaps your friend too,” she whispered.
“Most definitely.” The truth of it resounded inside him. “Know that you can always confide in me.”
She smiled and looped her arm with his as they began strolling toward their home. Prue said nothing more on the matter of love matches, but Oscar couldn’t help feeling her light had dimmed a little. The eyes that peered up at him did not sparkle as brightly, nor did her smile seemed as unrestrained.
How unusual. It seemed he had much more to learn about his wife. However, that dimming of her luster disappointed him and he tried once more to examine what he had done that had caused it.