Читать книгу Season Of Secrets - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 12

Chapter Five

“What are you doing here?” Christian scowled darkly at Sylvie when he entered the drawing room of his London home the morning following his grandmother’s ball, accepting that he owed his butler an apology for disbelieving him when that gentleman had entered Christian’s darkened bedchamber a few minutes ago and informed him that Lady Sylviana Moorland, Countess of Ampthill, was waiting downstairs to speak with him.

Christian’s mood was taciturn at best this morning, after the hours he had necessarily spent at his grandmother’s ball following Sylvie’s early departure, most of that time spent in fending off his grandmother’s less-than-subtle determination to see him in the company of Lady Vanessa Styles, a young lady of one and twenty whom his grandmother had obviously decided would make him a suitable countess.

Having finally managed to escape those machinations shortly after midnight, Christian had spent the hours until daybreak at one of the more disreputable clubs, rebuffing the obvious attentions of the willing ladies there in favor of drinking copious amounts of brandy and winning at the gaming tables.

As a consequence he had not been best pleased to be awakened, only hours after falling fully clothed into his bed, and informed by his butler of Sylvie’s presence downstairs in his drawing room. So certain had Christian been of the butler’s error that he had not even bothered to tidy his appearance before coming downstairs, let alone change his clothes.

An oversight he deeply regretted as he saw the way Sylvie’s tiny nose wrinkled with distaste as she took in his disreputable appearance—the crumpled clothes he had been wearing the evening before, the darkness of his curls in disarray, a growth of beard darkening his jaw. That jaw now tightened. “I asked—”

“I heard you,” Sylvie spoke quietly, her own appearance immaculate as she perched, ladylike, upon the edge of her chair, several loose gold curls peeking out from beneath the yellow silk bonnet that was an exact match in color for her gown, her hands and arms covered by cream lace gloves.

Christian gave a wince as the brightness of those colors hurt his eyes. “And yet you did not answer,” he bit out.

In truth, Sylvie regretted the need for her having to come here at all, let alone finding herself faced with Christian’s disreputable appearance. His evening clothes were crumpled, as if he had slept in them. At the same time, the dark shadows below his eyes and the stubble on his arrogant chin gave the impression he had not been to bed at all. To sleep, at least...

She stiffened her spine. “Perhaps you would like to return upstairs and...see to your appearance before we commence our conversation...?”

He raised mocking brows as he threw himself down in the chair facing her own. “I am perfectly comfortable as I am, thank you,” he drawled dismissively as he leaned his elbows on the arms of the chair and steepled his fingers in front of him. “And I believe we are already in conversation...?”

Sylvie drew her breath in sharply, having known the moment she saw Christian’s rumpled appearance that she should not have come here today without first making an appointment. She had thought to put Christian at a disadvantage by doing so, and instead she once again found herself the one who was wrong-footed. “You put forward a suggestion to me yesterday evening—”

“If you are referring to becoming my mistress, that was not a suggestion but a statement of intent,” he cut in, eyes gleaming through narrowed lids as he looked at her above those long, steepled fingers.

Sylvie was well aware of that. Just as she knew she had no intention of allowing this man to call at her home. The home where Christianna also resided...

“Perhaps your...other activities last night have now rendered that conversation obsolete?”

Those chiseled lips tilted in a humorless smile. “If you wish to know if I bedded another woman last night then just ask, Sylvie,” he mocked. “I promise I will not lie to you.”

“That will certainly be a novelty!”

Christian’s eyes narrowed in warning. “To my knowledge I have never lied to you. Nor will I lie to you now.”

Sylvie’s cheeks warmed even as she berated herself for caring one way or the other whether or not Christian had gone to another woman’s bed last night. In truth, it would be preferable if he had done so, would give her the perfect excuse to turn down his scandalous offer to her the previous evening. “Very well. Did you bed another woman last night?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Do not look so disappointed, Sylvie.” He gave a hard laugh. “Why would I even consider the idea of bedding another woman after making love to you earlier in the evening?”

Her mouth firmed at his mockery. “You must know that you are not known for your constancy in regard to any particular woman.”

He raised dark brows. “And is that to be a condition of our own arrangement? That, for the time of our...affair, I will occupy only your bed?”

“We do not have an arrangement—”

“As yet,” Christian bit out decisively. “But that is your reason for being here today, is it not? So that we might thrash out the terms and conditions of such a relationship between the two of us?” The alcoholic fog and lack of sleep had now cleared enough from Christian’s head for him to have considered all of the reasons Sylvie had chosen to call on him this morning.

She wished to reiterate that there would be no affair between them, now, or in the future? Something she could far more easily have told him in a note, or when he called upon her later in the day.

That she had decided to take another man as her lover? He was sure Sylvie knew him well enough to know that he would never accept such a decision.

Which only left the more obvious reason: that Sylvie had decided to accept his offer after all, but on her own terms.

And Christian was very interested in knowing what those terms might be.

“Well?” he prompted at her continued silence. “Is that not the reason you are here, Sylvie?”