Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

The Next Evening, The Rothschilds' Ballroom

" Y ou cannot expect to court a lady if you're spending all your time at my side," Meredith explained to Griffin as they strolled through the crowded ballroom arm in arm.

Tonight, she was wearing one of her favorite gowns, a lovely pink concoction with tiny roses embroidered along both the hem and empire waist. Her hair was swept up in a dark chignon, and she'd finished the ensemble with Mama's diamond necklace and earbobs.

One of the things Meredith loved best about being a widow was the ability to go nearly anywhere, wear whatever she liked, and do mostly what she liked. There was such freedom in widowhood it had nearly been worth the awful years of her marriage. Nearly. At any rate, it felt good to be back in Society, to no longer have to worry about her failure to give the Duke of Maxwell an heir. She was done worrying about Maxwell's condemnation. It was time to live for herself. And she was ready. Which was precisely why she'd decided to take a lover. A small grin popped to her lips the way it always did when she thought of it.

Just as she'd suspected, Clare hadn't judged her at all. To the contrary, she'd been a fountain of knowledge. Who knew her scandal-ridden friend would have such information to impart? Clare had been the first and only person who Meredith had told of her wicked plans. But tonight, she intended to inform Griffin as well. But for some reason, her stomach was in knots over it. Why did she have the feeling Griffin wouldn't be quite as approving?

"Who says I'm beginning my courtship tonight?" Griffin replied from her side, jarring her from her scandalous reverie.

As usual, Griffin looked handsome as sin. Tall and dark, he wore all black evening attire that was perfectly fitted and a snowy white shirt front and matching cravat that was expertly and effortlessly tied. Griffin always wore the finest clothing, and he did it while simultaneously giving the impression that he had barely tried.

" I've always pictured him with you , Mere ." Clare's words niggled at Meredith's mind. Truthfully, she'd been unable to sleep last night for thinking about them. She and Griffin? No. The notion was ludicrous. Ludicrous .

Of course Griffin was handsome, and tall, and fit, and muscled, and clever, and funny, and wise and…well, everything a woman would want in a man…a partner. But that was just it. Meredith wasn't looking for a partner. She wasn't looking for a husband. She was in the market for a lover, and she would never jeopardize her friendship with Griffin for a few (or even many) sinful nights of pleasure. Not to mention, that wouldn't be fair to Griffin's future wife. And Griffin needed a wife. He needed an heir. And Meredith could not give him either.

Besides, he'd already indicated that he had a lady in mind. Griffin was about to make some fortunate young woman's dreams come true. And that was what they should concentrate on tonight.

Meredith surveyed the crowd filled with beautiful, well-dressed ladies. Who? Who did Griffin fancy? Not knowing had been slowly driving her mad all week. But the even greater mystery was did he love this woman? That question had haunted Meredith ever since Clare had asked it. But for some reason, the thought of hearing his answer made her uneasy.

" Aren't you beginning your courtship?" Meredith replied, intent on keeping her thoughts firmly where they belonged—on the hunt for Griffin's duchess. Meredith was trying to work up the courage to ask him if he was in love. Why couldn't she just ask him? Why? It wasn't because she didn't want to know. It was because— Oh, what did it matter? He needed to marry with or without love.

Griffin plucked at his white cuff. "I never said how I would go about my courtship, and I certainly never promised to give you the details. Or a timeline," he finished with a particularly charming smile.

"Fine. Do you at least intend to ask your future wife to dance tonight?" Meredith crossed her arms firmly over her chest. The Southbury Stubborn Streak never stopped her from attempting to convince him to do things her way. She could be equally as stubborn if need be.

Griffin tipped his head to the side. "Perhaps."

"I told your mother that you fancy someone," Meredith admitted in a singsong voice.

Griffin shook his head slightly. "Of course you did. Which means you also told her that you have seven guesses. And that you've already used one."

Meredith fingered the diamonds at her neck. "She had some guesses of her own, you know. "

"Oh? Do tell," Griffin drawled. He grabbed two champagne flutes from the tray of a passing footman and handed one to Meredith.

"Absolutely not," Meredith replied, taking a sip of champagne. "I'm not about to inform you of who we've discussed. And I'm not about to be hasty about this matter either. It's far too important. I intend to take my time and make a real study of it."

"Do you?" Griffin's voice was entirely nonchalant. Almost too nonchalant. Was that a clue?

"Indeed," Meredith replied, watching him carefully lest he give away another potential clue. "I already know she is no one obvious. She couldn't be."

"Why is that?" Griffin took a sip from his flute. More questionable nonchalance.

"Because you are not an obvious man. You're quite nuanced and broody."

Griffin's dark brows snapped together. "Broody? When am I broody?"

Meredith rolled her eyes. "You don't know you're broody? Honestly. With your dark brows and your unfathomable eyes, you can be extremely broody."

"Are my eyes unfathomable?" He laughed and shook his head.

Meredith rocked back and forth on her heels. "Sometimes they are so dark I don't even know what you're thinking." She studied his face. Was he even more handsome than usual tonight? Straight nose, high cheekbones, enviable long, dark lashes. Good God. What was happening to her? Had Clare's words affected her that much? Meredith couldn't possibly be thinking of Griffin… that way. It was… Why, it was…indecent.

Griffin took another sip. "I can hardly help the color of my eyes. "

"You'll never believe who Clare guessed," she blurted before immediately regretting it. Now why had she said that?

He tilted his head to the side again and studied her. "Who?"

"Um…me." She was entirely unable to meet his gaze. She cleared her throat. "Clare said she always thought you and I would end up together." She forced a laugh and shook her head fiercely, still staring out into the crowd. "Of course I told her that was ludicrous ."

"Ludicrous?" he echoed.

"Yes, yes, of course. Now…does the lady of your choosing have light hair or dark hair?" Meredith continued. Better to focus on the woman he fancied. It kept her thoughts safely off of his looks. And his dark, broody eyes, for that matter.

"I never agreed to answer such questions."

" Humph . I should have negotiated for them." Meredith scowled and drank more champagne.

"I wouldn't have agreed," Griffin replied. "All I agreed to was to tell you a simple yes or no when you present me with a name."

"Fine. Since I already know it's not Amelia Barnstaple, I'll have to think of someone more likely. It's not Lady Shanna MacGregor, is it?" She glanced at him to see his reaction.

Griffin's dark eyes widened slightly, and, for a heart-stopping moment, Meredith thought she had managed to guess correctly on her second attempt. But then a smile spread over Griffin's lips. "Is that your official guess then?" he asked simply before turning back to survey the crowd.

"Yes." Meredith blew a wisp of hair away from her forehead.

"Then no. It's not her." He sounded far too pleased with himself.

Meredith frowned. "This isn't going to be easy, is it? "

He bit his lip, the picture of innocence. "I certainly hope not."

Meredith narrowed her eyes and contemplated the matter. She'd been considering a variety of names for days now. Amelia Barnstaple had been her first guess because the young woman was sensible, pretty, and clever. She'd been out for several Seasons and was just the sort of unpretentious girl Meredith could picture her friend admiring. She was also precisely the sort of young woman Meredith would like as a friend, and whoever Griffin married would have to be her friend. She couldn't bear it if his bride wanted them to stop being close. But now that Meredith was pressing the issue of his betrothal, she'd begun to think more and more about that sad possibility.

"Lady Catherine Montague?" Meredith blurted.

"No," Griffin replied with a smug smile.

"Blast it." Meredith expelled her breath. But she couldn't explain the relief that swept through her both times he told her she was wrong. What would it feel like when she got it right? What would it feel like to watch Griffin pledge himself to another woman for life? Queasiness settled in her middle.

"That's three guesses. You have four more," Griffin continued, pulling Meredith from her unwanted thoughts.

"I'm well aware of how many guesses I have remaining," Meredith informed him. "You needn't rub it in." She lifted her nose. "Besides, you're not the only one with a secret, you know?" There. Perhaps it wasn't the most subtle way to change the subject, but it would suffice. She wanted to wipe the smug smile off Griffin's face. Just for a moment. And her news was certain to do it.

"I'm not?" Griffin's brows shot up and the point of his tongue came out to barely touch the edge of his mouth.

Her skin heated. Dear God. Why was she noticing things like the location of Griffin's tongue all of a sudden ?

"What's your secret?" he drawled, taking another sip of champagne.

Meredith lifted her chin. "Why would I tell you my secret when you refuse to tell me yours?"

Griffin's eyes rolled heavenward. "Because you cannot keep a secret to save your mortal soul, and because you obviously want to tell me or you wouldn't have brought it up."

Meredith frowned. There were times when someone knowing you so well was quite inconvenient. Annoying, really. But Griffin was correct. Ever since she'd talked to Clare and got her much-needed encouragement, Meredith was dying to tell Griff her secret.

"Very well." She moved closer and motioned for him to lean down so she could whisper in his ear.

Meredith's words were a hot puff at Griffin's neck that made him clench his fist and struggle to remember that she was telling him a secret. "I intend to take a lover."

He must have heard her incorrectly. He straightened back up to his full height and stared down at her as if she was a mermaid who had somehow managed to flap herself into a London ballroom. His chest was clenched so tight he couldn't breathe. "You're going to what ?"

"Shh. Keep your voice down. And I believe you heard me," Meredith replied, taking a small sip from her champagne glass. Her eyes were bright, and a playful smile appeared on her pink lips. Dear God. She was serious, and she was…proud of herself?

"Why this sudden desire to… to…?" He couldn't even say the blasted words.

"Take a lover?" she supplied helpfully .

"Yes." He tugged at his cravat. The damned thing was strangling him.

"What?" She gave him an impish grin. "It's not uncommon for widows to take lovers. I'm hardly an old woman."

"I'm aware," Griffin choked out. Indeed, she was not an old woman. She was gorgeous and desirable and her breasts in that gown were driving him slowly mad. But still. Griffin cleared his throat. "Why the sudden desire to…?" No. He could not say the words.

"Take a lover?" Meredith repeated, laughing. "I've decided that the two of us are getting quite boring in our old age."

"As you just pointed out, we're hardly in our dotage," he grumbled.

"Precisely," Meredith replied, "but you wouldn't know it by our actions. All we do is sit around the house reading, talking, and drinking tea."

He drew his brows together. "I happen to like reading, talking, and drinking tea."

"I do too, but we're going to waste away there. It's time, Griffin. It's time to live our lives. That's why you shall finally marry, and I shall?—"

Griffin closed his eyes. "Don't say it again," he demanded through clenched teeth. He downed the rest of his glass of champagne, took hers, downed the rest of that, and placed both glasses on the tray of another passing footman. "Let's dance."

He didn't wait for her response, only pulled her along behind him toward the floor and swung her into his arms as a waltz began to play.

"My, this news seems to have upset you, Your Grace," Meredith said when they were facing each other again.

A slight growl issued from Griffin's throat. "You know I hate it when you call me that."

"Yes, well. You're a duke and I'm a duchess and we have become two of the most stuck-in-our-ways people I know," Meredith replied, still grinning.

"There are other ways to find amusement," Griffin shot back.

"Oh? Do tell." Meredith blinked at him. "Whist? Charades? Playing the pianoforte?"

"What's wrong with the pianoforte?" More growling.

"It's boring."

Griffin clenched his jaw. Too many thoughts were roiling through his brain. He didn't know how he was able to speak. Meredith had managed to shock him. Her aversion to marriage was something Griffin had not attempted to talk her out of. Yet. But he'd never guessed she'd say something like… Dear God. She wanted to take a lover . Of course unattached women in their circles did such things, but Griffin had never thought for a moment that Meredith would. Meredith just seemed so…content with her life as it was.

Ever since Griffin had returned from the war, Meredith had been adamant about never marrying again. She made it a point to say often and loudly that she had "absolutely no desire whatsoever" to tie the parson's noose around her neck again. But a lover? A lover? It was unfathomable. He'd always assumed—perhaps incorrectly—that she'd had an unpleasant time of things with Maxwell when it came to marital relations. Honestly, Griffin hated thinking about it. But now she wanted a lover? Damn it. He was going to have to think about it. Quickly.

"When did you come to this decision?" He was trying his damnedest to keep the anger from sounding in his voice. He had no right to be angry, of course.

"Several weeks ago," Meredith replied, a far-too-bright smile on her face.

"And you didn't tell me?" His frown deepened .

"You didn't tell me you had chosen a bride," Meredith pointed out.

She had him there.

Damn. Damn. Damn. This wasn't part of the plan. He'd intended to slowly reveal his feelings to her and then once she was amenable to the idea, he would point out that marriage to him would be far different from marriage to an old man. Then at the Midsummer Night's Ball, he would fall to his knee, declare himself, and she would say yes. Just as she'd always dreamed. Just as he'd always dreamed.

Only he'd assumed that he would have time to discuss it with her first. Ensure she was amenable to the idea. He'd thought he'd have all Season, in fact. He had enough patience to wait. But now here she was forcing the issue.

"Do you already"—he had to clear his throat as the damned words were stuck—"have someone in mind?" Ugh . The question was bitter on his tongue.

"No," she replied quickly.

A wave of relief sluiced through Griffin's body. "How do you intend to find this man?" he bit out.

Meredith's smile widened. "That's the best part. I told Clare about it, and she told me about a club. A secret club where patrons find— ahem —interested parties. She says it's a den of iniquity."

Bile rose to the back of Griffin's throat. His eyes narrowed to slits. "What club ?"

"It's called the Onyx Club."

Damn. Damn. Damn. Blast. Damn. And fuck. How did Clare Handleton know about the Onyx Club? Griffin had never been there. It wasn't his sort of place. But Ash was a frequent patron, and Griffin had heard enough stories to know it was hardly the type of establishment Meredith should visit. Part gaming hell, part pleasure club, it was a location where the ton 's most debauched members preferred to spend time. Everyone there wore masks so they wouldn't be recognized, but according to Ash, most were thinly veiled disguises and the people wearing them weren't particularly interested in whether they were identified.

Damn. Damn. Damn again. Griffin's mind raced. He had a problem. A real one. Meredith had already declared that she would never marry, but if she was going to take a lover after all this time, he was going to ensure it was him .