Page 19 of Eight for Losing, One for Loving

“Coward,” Vi muttered crossly as Leo closed the door behind him.

“Beg pardon, madam?” Jenny said, looking at her in confusion.

“Nothing, Jenny. Might I have some of that wine, please?”

Jenny nodded and poured her a glass before hurrying out again to fetch whatever item of clothing she had in mind for Vi to borrow.

Vi sat on the bed, sipping the wine and considering what to do next. She wondered if Leo was right and she had taken leave of her senses, but as she went through her options again, she decided it was an entirely sensible decision. She had known in the back of her mind that she would never marry, though she had not allowed herself to face the prospect head on until recently. It had been Leo who had made her face it too, by demanding to know why she rejected every man who showed an interest in her. He had accused her of refusing them because she only wanted him, which Vi had denied strenuously. Of course she had. But once alone, with his words ringing in her ears, she’d had to consider them seriously and discovered he was right, damn him. She wanted Leo or no one, and as Leo was out of reach—if she did not want to spend the rest of her days in a state of constant anxiety and likely misery too—then no one it was.

She’d thought she’d made peace with her decision, though the idea of having no children of her own was a sharp stab of regret in her heart. Even if she married now, she was likely too old to produce any babies, though, another reason she must not marry Leo, for he ought to be a father. He’d be a fine one once he grew up himself. She discovered there were other aspects of her spinsterhood which she was less sanguine about than she’d perhaps realised before, though, and now, through no fault of her own, she could do something about it. Fate had given her a once in a lifetime chance to take something for herself before she settled down to a respectable existence as an old maid. Supposing Leo could be persuaded to go along with her plan.

Vi looked down at the empty glass, rather surprised to discover she had drunk the contents. Well, that might be the best idea. Another glass might give her courage, though she must take care not to appear foxed, or else Leo would accuse her of not being in her right mind. So, she poured herself another glass and sipped at it until Jenny returned.

“Here we go, miss,” she said, holding up a clean but rather worn cotton nightgown. It’s not what you’ll be used to, I’m afraid,” she said apologetically.

“It’s perfect, Jenny,” Vi assured her, though privately she lamented the lack of lace or ribbons. She could have done with something a bit more seductive to help her entice Leo, for she did not have the greatest confidence her own attractions were enough to tempt him. Still, she had heard it said that men were not precisely choosy if a woman was free with her charms, so perhaps he would overlook such an unflattering item of bedwear.

Jenny helped Vi out of her travel-worn garments with deft hands and hurried away with the billowing pile of fabric, leaving Vi to regard herself in the mirror on the dressing table.

“Oh dear,” she murmured, for she ought to have considered that Jenny was not of the same shape as she, the girl being rather less well-endowed in the bust and hips. Still, there was no help for it now, as there was a knock and Leo entered the room.

“Dinner is on the way up,” he said cheerfully. “Did Jenny find—”

He broke off as Vi turned, staring at her with an expression she could not read.

Reminding herself forcefully of what her aim was tonight, Vi unlocked her hands from over her bust and watched dubiously as Leo’s gaze roamed over her. Colour crested his high cheekbones, and she saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

“Christ,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

Vi felt her own colour rise as she considered what she had seen in the looking glass, for the cotton was soft and thin from age and washing and was nigh on sheer. Clinging against her breasts and hips, it left little to the imagination, the darker shapes of her nipples clearly defined.

A knock at the door broke the strange, prickling atmosphere and Leo almost jumped out of his skin, tearing his gaze from her. Before Vi could ask what he was doing, he pulled the counterpane from the bed and wrapped it tightly around her, guiding her to the chair and sitting her down in it.

“Don’t move,” he told her, his blue eyes strangely electric in the lamplight as he gazed down at her.

Vi almost demanded how he expected her to do so as she was sat upon the outer fold with her arms trapped inside the layers. She felt like a large caterpillar. Leo turned away before she had the chance, however, and stalked to the door, pulling it open.

“Dinner, sir.”

“Bring it in,” Leo said, nodding at Jenny and another maid, an older woman this time, perhaps in her early thirties. She stared at Leo with unashamed interest as they came into the room and arranged the plates and dishes on the round table by the window. Her gaze also took in Vi, biting her lip against a giggle as she saw her looking like an overstuffed mummy. Vi did not doubt she was wondering how or why such a handsome fellow had caught himself such a homely wife and blushed harder than ever. Well, at least it illustrated very nicely why marrying Leo would be fraught with anxiety and never give her a moment's peace.

Leo tipped the girls, apparently oblivious to the older woman’s flirtatious glance, which made Vi feel somewhat better. He closed the door after them and turned back, gazing abstractedly at the dishes on the table in silence.

“Are you proposing to feed me?” Vi asked, remembering too late she was intending to seduce him and regretting her caustic tone. “Perhaps I’ll turn into a butterfly.”

“Eh?” he said, turning to her. “Oh, beg pardon.” He moved towards her and then stopped, staring down at her with an odd look in his eyes.

“Leo,” Vi said, striving for a softer tone than she was feeling. “I can’t move. Please help me up and unwrap me.”

“Unwrap you,” he repeated, an unsteady note to his voice.

“Yes, my arms are trapped and—,” she complained and then remembered she couldn’t seduce him and berate him at the same time and tried for a winning smile that felt stiff and odd.

The expression seemed to disturb him, for he took a step back. “Maybe that’s for the best.”

Good lord, he was thinking of leaving her this way.

“Of course it isn’t for the best!” she retorted, before reminding herself once more that starting a row and vexing him was not the best start to a seduction. “Please, Leo,” she said sweetly.