Secluded with the Rogue

Chapter 14

Fourteen

C alvin brushed a stray wisp of hair from Belle’s cheek. There was something she felt he should know?

“I think I know what it is,” he said gently, embarrassed that he hadn’t noticed sooner. “I didn’t realize you were a virgin until it was too late, and I was already inside you. Forgive me, Belle. It never occurred to me that you and the late Mr. Lépine did not consummate?—”

Her cheeks flushed scarlet. “That’s not it at all.” The blush spread further. “That is to say, yes, I was a virgin, but not due to any failure to consummate on Mr. Lépine’s part.”

He frowned. “Then how?—”

“There is no Mr. Lépine,” she burst out, her face miserable. “I’m not a widow. I’ve never been married. I’m?—”

He dropped his hand from her cheek. “You lied to me?”

“I lied to the proprietress.” She swallowed visibly. “And yes, to you, and to everyone in this posting house, because the only way to keep one’s reputation intact is with the constant presence of a maid—or by not requiring one. Ursula was in the sickroom and there was no one else to play chaperone, so I lied about my name out of desperation.”

Calvin scrubbed his face. Well, there. That wasn’t so dreadful a fib, was it?

Her alleged widowhood hadn’t protected her virtue last night in his bed, but as far as the rest of the posting house knew, nothing untoward had occurred. Her quick thinking had worked. Nor did it change his feelings—or his intentions—toward Belle. He was no less in love with Miss Lépine as he had been with Mrs . Lépine.

Yet something she’d said niggled at him.

“You lied about your name?” he echoed slowly. “Or just your marital status?”

“I’m still Belle,” she hedged, not meeting his eyes until, suddenly, she did, as if rallying courage. “There are no Lépines. I am Lady Isabelle.”

“Lady... who?” Calvin took a step back, suddenly aware of his nakedness.

The name did not sound familiar, but then why would it? He was no aristocrat. The only dealings he’d had with the ladies of the ton had been when he’d helped his mother design their trousseaux over a decade ago. He’d never bothered keeping up with the names and titles in Debrett’s Peerage because he didn’t rub shoulders with the nobs, nor did he wish to. Their worlds did not intersect.

Until now.

“Lady Isabelle,” he repeated, the syllables sticking to the roof of his mouth like ash.

He had let her see every tiny hidden part of himself, and she hadn’t even been honest about her name.

She wasn’t who he’d thought she was. No, it was worse than that. She inhabited a world he could only ape. She was silk and gold and diamonds, and he was a cheap facsimile. And she’d known it all along.

Calvin had fallen in love, but Lady Isabelle had merely been on holiday. He was a lark, nothing more. She’d been amusing herself with the hapless tailor since that first shared pie, playacting at “commoner” until the snow cleared enough for her to return to her ivory tower.

Of course she had said no to his mangled proposal. She had known from the start that what they had meant nothing at all.

He snatched his trousers up from the floor and shoved his leg into the wrinkled nankeen.

“You’re angry,” she said hesitantly.

He sent her a dark look as he bent to scoop up his shirt.

She wrung her hands. “It’s worse than that.”

He pulled on his shirt in silence.

“Calvin—”

“Your plan was to walk away and never see each other again, wasn’t it? Then there’s no need for any more drawn out confessions.”

“Just one more,” she said in a small voice. “I thought it might be prudent for you to know that I’m... the Duke of Nottingvale’s sister.”

He staggered backward as though each word had pummeled his solar plexus.

“You thought it prudent for me to know that I despoiled the Duke of Nottingvale’s virgin sister?” His stomach dipped as gooseflesh rippled across his suddenly clammy skin. “Why wasn’t this information prudent yesterday , before I had you naked in my bed?”

She stared at him in misery. “I... I wanted...”

“ You wanted,” he spat. “Of course you did. You were raised to only care about your wants, and damn anyone else. I was a toy, not a person. And now you’ve ruined both of us.”

“I didn’t know you’d want to make an honest woman of me!” she burst out.

“I’m not sure anyone could do that,” he said coldly. He had never felt so foolish.

She thought he would take her and forget her, as she had intended to do with him. It was what she’d wanted .

He raked a trembling hand through his hair. It was over. Not just his affair with “Mrs. Lépine” but Fit for a Duke and all it entailed. Belle hadn’t stopped with merely breaking his heart. She’d managed to destroy his life’s dream for good measure.

“I suppose you’ll be at the party,” he said dully.

Another fortnight under the same roof, but this time under the watchful eye of one of the most powerful men in England. Jonathan was depending upon him to bring the materials for the presentation, and Nottingvale was relying on him not to despoil his little sister along the way.

There was no way Calvin could go.

“Party?” Belle stammered. “My brother invited you... to stay for Yuletide...”

“Merry Christmas to us all,” Calvin said flatly. “The investment will be off once the duke finds out?—”

“He can’t find out.” Her eyes were wild. “I’ll never tell him. His reaction would be nothing compared to my mother’s. She’d never forgive me for sullying the family with… scandal.”

Wonderful. Exactly the reaction a man hoped for upon proposing marriage.

Proof that he was of no more value than a clump of mud stuck to her shoe. He was in pain, angry and numb at the realization that everything he’d worked for had disappeared the moment he’d taken her into his arms. He’d hoped they could forge a new future.

Now there would be nothing at all.

“We won’t have to tell him,” Calvin said with a sigh. “He’ll know. We cannot possibly keep up the charade of total strangers whilst trapped under the same roof for an entire fortnight. You might be that talented of an actress, but I am not.”

“I won’t go,” she said quickly. “I’d already decided not to go before we even... I’ll stay with my friend Angelica. I won’t let on that we’ve met, much less made love. Don’t worry.”

“Don’t worry? ” he repeated in disbelief. “More futures than just mine are hanging on a thread. Nottingvale is a powerful duke whom I’d hoped would become a trusted business partner. You’re asking me to lie to him, not just for the length of one party, but for the rest of our lives. My conscience would be better off if I admitted the truth up front, and let the chips fall where they may.”

“You can’t ,” she burst out in horror, face pale. “I’ll be ruined if you do, and besides you... you signed a contract...”

He let out a humorless chuckle.

“The contract was in regard to a Mrs. Lépine, who, it turns out, does not exist. The document is worthless, and you know it.” He led her to the door on stiff legs. “It seems you’ll just have to trust the discretion of a lowly tailor.”