Chapter 6

Oliver

Something poked him in the side. Hard.

"Ow." Dammit, he'd been completely comfortable, so deep in sleep that coming up out of it felt as if he was suddenly underwater and floundering to get to the surface.

"What are you still doing here?" Diana hissed in his ear as she poked him again, making him flinch away from her. Which was not easy because he still had his arms wrapped around her.

"Sleeping." He yawned, forcing his eyes open. Bloody hell, sleeping in her bed was the best rest he'd gotten in months… possibly years. It was warm and soft, and so was she. He tightened his grip on her as she poked him again. Despite her very hard finger, that was not going to be enough to keep him off her. Or to diminish the erection he'd awoken with.

With her pressed up against him, it was also a lot harder for her to poke him. Her furious gaze met his, only inches from his face, as she tried to pull farther away. While he was happy to let her take the lead, at the moment, he was not inclined to let her go, and he noticed she had not actually asked him to.

"You said you were going to take care of everything! You are not supposed to be here!" Her voice was becoming rather shrill. Apparently, she had not expected to find him still in her bed this morning. Interesting.

He wondered if her assumption was because she was a virgin or because she actually thought he was going to let her go after just one night. Maybe he'd ask her later when she was no longer in a snit.

"I did take care of everything. I cleaned both of us up—you slept through it—and blew out all the candles."

"That is not taking care of everything! You were supposed to go back to your own room!" Even shriller than before, she pushed at his chest.

As nice as it was to feel her hands on him rather than her finger poking into his side, the situation was still not ideal.

"Let go of me!"

Damn. Oliver let go of her with a reluctant sigh, and she rolled away, clutching the sheet to her bosom. As if he had not seen them the night before, had not held them. Though he had not gotten the chance to put them in his mouth, that was true. There was still a long list of debaucheries he wished to commit with her.

"You did not truly expect me to go back to my room," he countered, frowning at her. "Why would I?"

She stared at him, aghast, as though he had just announced that he had no brain in his head.

"Because… because… because you cannot be here!"

Sitting up, Oliver crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her. The sheet fell away to his waist, and her gaze skittered over him before coming back up to meet his. Yes, he was still erect and would be perfectly happy to service her again this morning. Hands, tongue, and cock were at the ready.

"Of course I can. It is my house. Where else should I be?"

"Not in my room!" She looked like she was ready to explode. "I need to pack! You need to do… to be in your room when your manservant arrives… Oh God, he's going to think you are missing! You have to go!"

The point about Johns was a good one, but his valet was not one to panic. However, he would be rightly concerned to find Oliver's bed empty and probably begin searching immediately.

Before Oliver tended to that, there was a more pressing matter to attend to.

"You are not leaving this morning. We have things to discuss." Many things. And, if he had his way, she would not be leaving any time soon, if ever. He'd done some thinking last night and realized that she would be a perfect marchioness.

No one else in the ton would blink an eye at her relative youth. She was firmly on the shelf, but he was a marquess and already had an heir. As a second wife, her age was far less of a consideration, socially speaking. She already fit in with his family and household and knew their secrets. And… well, if he was being honest with himself, he had a mountain of unacknowledged feelings for her that he had been suppressing for one reason or another. Feelings he no longer felt required to suppress.

In fact, knowing she had still been a maiden before last night, despite being part of the Society of Sin, had solidified his intentions. He had been her first, and he intended on being her last. Besides which, waking up next to her in bed for the rest of his life made life seem far more appealing. Something he did not discount since he'd found himself at loose ends after his niece and her husband had taken over as spymasters to the Crown.

"Then you may make an appointment with me to discuss it. I will be staying at the Hotel Thames." That stubborn chin went up in the air.

Hell and damnation. It might be time to resort to more serious tactics. But he gave it one last go.

"Stay another day. We will talk, then you can decide what you want to do." He said it in his most reasonable, wheedling tone.

Unfortunately, she knew him as well as he knew her, and her eyes narrowed at him.

"You think you can convince me to keep staying on? Why do you want me to?"

"Why would I not?" He countered. "What is so pressing that you feel you have to leave?"

For a moment, he thought she would answer him, but then she pressed her lips together and shook her head.

"Impossible. You are impossible. Get out. Go back to your own room. I am packing, then I am leaving. If you are intent on talking to me, I can return for dinner or supper tomorrow."

Well, that would not do. Once she was out of the house, it would be much more difficult to convince her to come back to it. Fine. Drastic measures it was.

"Diana—" He started to get up, then let himself pale, putting his hand over his heart and falling back into his seat.

"My lord?" She was back at the side of the bed in a moment. "My lord, what's wrong? What is it?"

"I… I feel odd…" Aware he was possibly overplaying his hand, he let himself fall back onto the pillow, gasping. "I feel so odd. My arm…" He'd seen men fall victim to similar ailments. His heart was pounding rather fast in his chest, but otherwise, he was perfectly fine.

It was a little insulting how easily she was convinced of his oncoming doom.

"Oh, no… I… just wait…" Still holding the sheets around her, she lifted them up without thinking, scampering to her door and throwing it open. "Help! Sylvie… fetch help! We need a doctor!"

They did not. He'd trust her judgment over any doctor's, but he was content to let her call for help.

That was the entire point of this charade.

Diana

She should not have argued with him. Despite being healed—for far longer than he would likely admit to—he was hardly exerting himself the way he likely used to. How much had last night overworked him? And then arguing with him on top of that… blast.

But she had not thought…

He'd seemed perfectly…

Aware she was feeling far more frantic than she would for any other patient who had ever been under her care, Diana gulped in air as she swung around, heading back to the bed. It was not until she was more than halfway there that she realized the Marquess was no longer palely fallen back against her pillow, clutching his chest.

No, he was propped up on one arm, another of her pillows pulled over his lap to hide his manhood while leaving no doubt that he was completely naked. A smirk played on his face under his tousled, bed-rumpled hair. He did not appear to be a man in dire straits. No, he was clearly, happily, a man who had just scared the life out of her for his own reasons.

"What is wrong with you?" she shouted in extreme aggravation, stomping her foot. The excess of emotions built up inside her needed somewhere to go. It was a good thing she was standing in the middle of her room with nothing around her, or she might have reached for something to throw at the most exasperating man she'd ever met. "Why would you?—"

"What is going on?" The question, uttered in aghast shock, made Diana whirl around. It was not a doctor standing at the door, or even Sylvie… no, it was the Marquess' niece, Evie, standing there. Behind her stood her husband, Captain Anthony Browne, with a confused frown on his normally impassive face, his gaze glancing over everything in the room, taking in the entire scene.

Even then, Diana did not realize what the Marquess had wrought.

"Good morning, Evie, Anthony. Oh, dear, I'm afraid you have caught us completely dishabille. I have impugned Miss Rutherford's honor, but not to worry, my lady, I will make things right immediately." The Marquess' cheerful tone did not contain any regret.

Evie pinched the bridge of her nose as her husband covered up a guffaw behind a cough. Whirling back to face the Marquess, Diana found that her palm was itching. For something to throw, yes, but also for a flogger. A knotted one. Possibly with some metal worked into the falls. Clearly, she had not beaten him hard enough last night.

"You will what?" She had not known her voice could hit that high a pitch, yet she could not contain it.

"Make things right immediately." His grin widened. "I'll procure the special license, and we'll be married as soon as possible. No harm to your reputation done."

"We will not." There. That was better. Much less shrill, much firmer.

"Of course, we will. You would hardly allow me to be so dishonored as to ruin you and not marry you."

"I am not ruined." Technically, she was, but she knew Anthony and Evie could keep their mouths shut. There was no reason for them to tell anyone. "No one needs to know about this. You have the most tight-lipped household in the ton. The only way my reputation will be ruined is if you want it to be."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, maybe I do."

"Uncle—" Evie started to say before the Marquess interrupted her.

"Stay out of this, Evie."

"You brought me into it," Evie replied sternly. "At least, I am assuming all the commotion was due to you."

Since it was, he could hardly gainsay her and stayed silent in the momentary pause before she spoke again.

"This is hardly the way to propose to a lady."

"It is when the lady in question is planning on leaving the house in the middle of the night without giving me a chance to properly ask her." He raised his eyebrow at Diana, as if it were her fault!

She glared back at him.

"You are leaving?" Evie's voice was a little higher, the question directed at Diana.

Taking a deep breath, Diana turned around to face her again. Blast. That was another reason it would have been easier to go. Evie was now looking at her with a forlorn expression on her face.

She had to know that Diana was no longer needed, yet she did not want her to go.

"The Marquess is fully recovered, and my services are no longer needed. Yes, I was going to move on to new employment."

"In the middle of the night? What on earth happened last night?" Evie's brows drew together in a frown, obviously trying to put the pieces together and failing. Without knowing that both her uncle and Diana had attended the Society of Sin masquerade, she was hardly going to be able to come to the correct conclusion.

"Can we discuss this after I have gotten dressed?" Diana did her best to rein in her temper.

A quick departure was clearly out of the question. She was going to need to speak with Evie at the very least. Probably the Marquess, too, though the last thing she wanted to do was talk to him. On the other hand, the things she now wanted to do to him were exactly what had gotten her into this position in the first place. Blast the man.

"Yes, of course." Evie paused. "Come on, Uncle Oliver. I think we need to have a word. In the meantime, Miss Rutherford promises not to leave until after she's spoken to us." Evie spoke over the beginning of her uncle's protest.

Diana sighed.

"I promise."