“Rarely?”

“I’m to attend the christening if there’s a child, and I’ll be squiring my sister around this year’s Season, which means our paths might cross.”

“You don’t want me to say this, but I’ll look forward to that.”

“Vivvie.” He rose up over her and braced himself on his arms. “You can’t. You cannot. You should be relieved to be getting back to the safety of William’s arms. Relieved to be done with such a one as I. You can’t go… getting sentimental on me.”

“If you didn’t want me getting sentimental, then why create a perfume for me? Why let me meet John, why insist on sending Bernice along home with me? Why, Darius Lindsey?”

“Because you are a lady,” he said, lowering himself to his forearms and gathering her in his embrace. “You were supposed to be a damned new roof, and you turned out to be a lady. One doesn’t treat ladies with less than consideration.”

“And you are a gentleman.” Vivian stroked his hair. “And yet you let those infernal women beat you and humiliate you, and I cannot abide it, Darius.”

“It isn’t yours to abide or not,” he said softly, kissing the side of her neck. “I don’t want to argue with you, Vivvie.”

“Yes, you do. You want to insist coin alone is adequate justification for letting them abuse you. I could just shake you.”

“If you meet me at some Venetian breakfast, Vivvie, you’re to look down your lovely nose at me, as if I’m a bug on the walkway, and ignore me thereafter.”

“Ignore the father of my child?”

“Ignore the conniving bastard who took coin for swiving you,” he whispered, letting her feel his growing arousal. “The man who got a child on you and walked away without a backward glance. The idiot who…”

But he stopped himself by sealing his mouth over hers, and for the last time, sliding himself home into her body. He wanted to rush, wanted to pound into her so she’d recall him for the rest of her life, so she’d never make love again without remembering what it had felt like with him.

For her, he held himself back. For her, he went slowly and tenderly until she was begging and writhing and her nails digging into his back with a sharp, sweet little pain. When she was near tears, he let her come, joining her one last time in the sexual pleasure that he, love-struck idiot, had tried to insist was of no more moment than a cold ice on a hot day.

And when the tears came, he kissed them away and started all over again, but in the morning, he would send her away just the same.

Nine

“So you’re just going to put the poor thing in the coach and wave her on her way?”

Darius scowled at Gracie, who had brought the usual morning tray while Vivian slept on beside him. “I’ll have the bricks heated first.”

“You were never cold before, Master Dare.” Gracie busied herself at the hearth. “I’m not proud of you, you know.”

Before this month with Vivian, he’d been cold all the time. Darius kept his voice to a whisper, lest Vivian wake up any sooner than necessary. “If you must know the truth, I’ll be relieved to get shut of her. It’s past time she was back in her William’s loving arms, and I can get back to my usual routine.”

If a man told a lie often enough, he might begin to believe it.

“Some routine.” Gracie snorted. “As if it was making you happy, to lark about in low places, consorting with those creatures.”

“Happy matters little compared to solvent.” Darius glared at her, and she had the grace to withdraw without further comment. He sipped his first cup of tea in silence, wishing he could put off the chore of waking Vivian and spare her their parting. She seemed to understand his warnings but not to take them to heart, and he mused in silence for some minutes on how, in truth, he was going to bear putting her into his traveling coach.

Vivian stirred sleepily beside him. “Tea?”

“Here you go.” He passed her his cup. “Slowly, as it’s hot.”

“Gracie’s been here.”

“Making trouble, as usual.” Darius offered her a smile. “Shall I pleasure you once again before you leave this bed?”

“Shut up, Darius.” Vivian sipped her tea.

“Cranky again, I see.” Darius’s smile faded. “My apologies.”

“You can stow that too.” Vivian set her cup aside. “I already hate this day, and you don’t need to be irritating to get me through it.” She flopped down onto her side. “It isn’t even snowing.”

“Why should it be snowing?”

“So I don’t have to leave you, you idiot.” Vivian settled her head against his thigh on a grumpy sigh.

His hand moved slowly on her hair, treasuring the silky feel of it. “Here’s how that works, Vivvie. You think this will be dreadful, this parting, which is very flattering but entirely unnecessary. You wish we could spend an indefinite amount of time romping like bunnies and oblivious to the rest of our obligations, but this is better.”

“Better?” She bit his hairy, muscular, male thigh, but not hard. “How can it be better to spend hours in a freezing cold coach, to be greeted by my elderly and dignified spouse, while I await the delivery of your child and you treat me as a perfect, and perfectly forgettable, stranger?” She turned her cheek against his leg and closed her eyes. “It’s going to be dreadful.”

“No, it is not.” Darius focused on the feel of her cheek against his thigh. “This day will be a nuisance, getting under way, and then putting up with the roads, but you’ll be in your own bed in Town tonight, and then on your way to Longchamps tomorrow. You think you’ll miss me, but you’ll be relieved to have this child conceived, Vivvie. William will be overjoyed, and the longer you’re parted from me and back to your own life, the less you’ll even think about me.”

“You’re sure about this?”

“Utterly.”

“Ass.” She nuzzled his cock. “I will miss you until my dying day.”

“No, you shall not.”

“Will too, and you know you want to send those women packing. You do. They have no business in your life, much less under the same roof as that dear child. You know this.” She swiped at him with her tongue, and he didn’t stop her.

* * *

Vivian stood in the freezing January air, while outside the stables, Darius’s traveling coach, complete with heated bricks, toddies, and a full hamper, waited for her.

“My lady.” Darius offered her his arm, but to her surprise, he walked her back into the barn and not up to the coach. She was wearing one of the new cloaks he’d had made for her, velvet, fur-lined, warm and lovely. Under that, her dress was one he’d designed, more velvet, a rich brown trimmed with green that felt as comfortable as it was elegant. Around her neck, though, he’d wrapped his cozy wool scarf, because she’d brought none of her own.

“I don’t want to go,” Vivian said, holding his gaze and swallowing against the pain in her chest. “You can’t make me want to go, Darius. That much, at least, I insist on.”

“I can’t, but I can warn you again, Vivvie. We’re strangers after this. Nothing but strangers. If you see me in the park, we’ll need to be introduced before you can acknowledge me, and I will all but cut you, for the sake of the child.”

“Oh, of course.” She knew he was trying to be decent, misguided lout that he was. “Unlike a few dozen other young men, you can’t be bothered with a little old bluestocking parliamentary wife like me for a passing acquaintance. I’ll recall that.”

“See that you do,” he warned, his voice stern. “Recall this as well, Vivvie. If you need anything—anything at all—you will discreetly apply to me.”

“I have a husband,” she said a little stiffly.

“For now, but during this child’s lifetime, you at some point likely won’t, and then you’ve only to ask, Vivvie, and whatever you need, if it’s within my power, I’ll see to it for you.”

“While you treat me like a stranger?”

He nodded, looking again like the grave man who’d joined her for dinner a lifetime ago in London.

“I want your promise, Vivvie. This is likely the only child I’ll have, and you have to let me do what I can, should the need arise.”

“This should not be your only child, Darius.” Of that she was certain, though she assuredly did not want him procreating with anybody else. “If I’m even pregnant.”

“You’re carrying.”

“How can you know that?”

“I just do.” His smile was smug and sad. “You are, and that means more coin for me, so well done, Vivvie Longstreet.”

“We’ll see,” she said, wanting to screech at him for bringing up their mercenary bargain yet again. “Was there anything else?”

She glanced at the coach, feeling as if it were some sort of hearse, only to find herself pulled into his arms and kissed, gently, fiercely, and thoroughly.

“Damn you.” She wiped a tear from her eyes with her new gloves, and went up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Damn you, Darius Lindsey, for that kiss and the lectures and all of it.”

He winked at her as he escorted her out to the coach. “May I roast in hell, and so on. That’s the spirit.” She smiled, and he looked relieved and desperate and dear as he handed her in.

“Godspeed, Vivvie, and from the bottom of my jaded and worthless heart, thank you.” He banged on the door, and the coach pulled out before Vivian could stop crying long enough to wonder what on earth he was thanking her for.

* * *

Darius’s traveling coach was comfortably conducive to crying, which was fortunate, because Vivian was disposed to indulge. She knew Darius had purchased the vehicle for a song, and probably kept it for himself because it was as luxuriously appointed on the inside as it was carefully unremarkable on the outside. She wasn’t a weeper by nature, but gracious, almighty, merciful, everlasting God…