“And that,” she agreed.
They walked for a long moment, and he said, “It’s not a choice if there’s only one man on the list, you know.” When she did not reply, he added, “You should have a choice.”
She should.
But she didn’t.
By the end of the season, she would be married. Whether Langley agreed to it on his own or with prodding, he would marry her. He’d been selected for his qualities. And his secret, which she wouldn’t hesitate to use if necessary.
It did not matter that somehow, something had upset the balance of Chase-Anna-Georgiana, and that, in this situation, blackmail made her squeamish. It was the only way.
Choice was a farce.
But here, in this moment, she had one. West wanted her. And she wanted him. And here, now, she had a choice.
She could have what she should have for a lifetime . . . or have what she wished for a moment.
Or perhaps she could have both.
Why not take a moment with West? He was the perfect partner—he knew her secrets—but not her whole truth. He knew she was Anna and Georgiana, knew why she was searching for a husband, was instrumental in the search. There was something tremendously freeing in the idea that he might be her choice. Now. Before she had no choice but to choose another.
It was tremendously clear all of a sudden.
“Do you have a mistress?”
She blurted out the question with a lack of finesse that appalled her. What had happened to Anna? Where was London’s greatest lightskirt? More importantly, where was all-powerful and ever-certain Chase?
She wanted to toss herself into the Serpentine.
Why did this man have such a horrifying effect on her?
His brows rose at her question, but he somehow, blessedly, resisted the no doubt overwhelming urge to mock her delivery. “I do not.”
She nodded once, and continued to walk along the edge of the lake. “I only ask because I would not wish to . . . overstep.”
Why were the words so difficult?
Because he was watching her. She could see him out of the corner of her eye. He would be watching her a great deal more if she got the damn words out.
The thought did not help.
“By all means, Lady Georgiana, I encourage you to overstep. As much as you’d like.”
She took a breath. Now or never. Forward, or forever here. “I propose an arrangement. Not a long-term arrangement. That would be silly. And disrespectful.”
And foolish, as anything long-term with Duncan West would surely end in her wishing it more than she should.
Those words again.
He did not respond except to say, “Go on.”
She stopped. Turned to him. Attempted to behave as though she ran one of London’s finest men’s clubs. “You said you wished to kiss me.”
“Was my desire unclear?”
She ignored the flood of heat that came at the words. “It was not. And you wished to do other things as well.”
His gaze turned dark. “A great number of other things.”
The words did strange things to her insides.
She nodded. “Then I propose we do those things.”
One of his golden brows rose. “Do you?”
Embarrassment flared, but she brazened it through. “I do. You haven’t a mistress. And neither have I.”
That did shock him. “I should hope not.”
She tilted her head to one side and spoke as Anna, feeling altogether more powerful now that the proposition had been made. “I see no reason why I shouldn’t until I’ve landed Langley. Discreetly, of course.”
“Of course.”
“I think you’ll do.”
“As mistress.”
“You cannot imagine I would choose the word master.”
His shock compounded. Obviously. She enjoyed the moment. Particularly when he said, “I feel certain I should be insulted.”
She laughed, feeling suddenly freed by the conversation. “Come now, Mr. West, I am no delicate flower. Aren’t you the one who said I should have a choice?”
He narrowed his gaze on her. “I meant in your long-term future.”
“I have chosen my long-term future. And now I am choosing my immediate future,” she said, stepping closer, bringing a yard to a foot. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I choose you.”
He moved at the words, and she thought for a fleeting moment that he would capture her and pull her close. She would not have resisted. But he stopped himself, likely realizing that they were in public. It did not make the moment less exciting. She’d never been near a man who wanted her so much and was still so willing to resist her.
She smiled. “I take it you accept.”
“On one condition,” he said, crossing his arms, turning his back to the wind as it blew across the lake. Protecting her from the cold.
“Name it.”
“While you are in my bed, you are not in his.”
Chase.
It was an easy condition to accept. “Done.”
He seemed to hesitate at her easy acceptance of his term, and she wondered if she’d given too much away. But then she saw the emotion cross his face. Disbelief.