Chapter Twelve

A strange calm blanketed Diana as she awaited his answer. It was almost as if she were floating somewhere outside herself, watching the scene play out as on a stage.

When he spoke, she heard it as if from far away. “One night of passion with you.”

Gasps broke all around them.

Blackthorn’s face had gone quite pale, but he held her with an unwavering gray gaze, awaiting her response.

Damn. She’d hoped he might ask for something innocuous, hoped that he’d know better than to claim a prize that might earn him a ten-pace walk on the field of honor. But in her heart of hearts, she’d known exactly what he would request. “I’m afraid that is not within my power alone to grant.”

In the silence that followed, Harrow’s warm hands again enveloped her shoulders, and she peered up at him expecting to see a look of grim resolve. But to her surprise, he appeared almost amused as he gave her a miniscule nod of agreement. Prickles broke out across her skin in a sweeping wave. He wants this to happen!

Numb, she turned back to again address Blackthorn in a serene voice that utterly belied the turmoil inside. “It appears my lover has no objection. Very well then. As you wish.” She raised her voice just enough to be heard above the crowd’s subsequent murmuring. “I would prefer that we discuss the exact terms of fulfilment in privacy.” She glanced up again at Harrow for confirmation, receiving it in the form of another small nod, before continuing. “As such, I invite you to call on us at my residence tomorrow at two o’clock to settle the details.”

Blackthorn’s glance darted between her and Harrow as he answered, “I look forward to it.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, betraying his nervousness.

Ramifications sinking in, are they? Afraid you’ve gone too far? Good. She had no sympathy to spare him. Too many other emotions were already crowded inside her, all in disarray as each fought for supremacy. Part of her dreaded the encounter, but the larger part of her was far more excited than afraid.

She was used to men lusting after her. What she wasn’t accustomed to was reciprocating their desire. Even now, though her insides shook with apprehension, she wanted Blackthorn. Briefly, she wondered if she would’ve been bold enough to request the same forfeit of him had she been the winner.

Those bearing witness to tonight’s battle certainly would’ve expected it of someone like her. Mistress. Harlot. Whore.

She was, in truth, none of those things, but these people couldn’t know it. Blackthorn will find out soon enough. Another wave of panic threatened, and she quashed it. Until that moment arrived, she had a job to do. Donning a mask of cool sophistication, she rose, forcing her erstwhile opponent to follow protocol and rise also. Harrow immediately offered his arm, which she took before again addressing Blackthorn. “Until tomorrow, my lord.”

When she turned around, it was all she could do not to falter on seeing a veritable sea of bodies between her and the door. The room had filled to capacity while they’d played, and now all eyes were on her as the crowd slowly opened a path before her and Harrow.

The silence was so thick it was practically palpable. She wondered how anyone in the room could even breathe for it. Harrow’s arm kept her steady, granting her a measure of security as they ran the gauntlet. It was less crowded out in the hallway, at least. As they entered the ballroom, faces swiveled around to regard their passage.

Gossip travels faster than dawn’s light. It had been one of her mother’s favorite sayings. Everyone here tonight would know of this before the ball ended. By mid-morning, all of London would know.

As they walked, her toes ached where Lord Burlington had bruised them. But she felt the pain as if from a great distance. It was a queer sense of detachment, this. As if someone else were experiencing these events, as if someone else were causing her legs to move her forward a step at a time. Even the music seemed weirdly muffled to her ears.

It was only belatedly that she realized Harrow was leading her once more to the back of the ballroom. Of course. They’d come in through the gardens, after all. Though she knew it would only add fuel to the fire for them to leave by the same path, she couldn’t find it in herself to be anything but grateful. She’d be home within just a few minutes.

Before they made it to the exit, however, Harrow stopped and turned.

As he swung about, Diana saw they’d been followed by their host. Blackthorn joined them at the door, his expression full of uncertainty as he extended a tentative hand.

At once, Harrow reached out and clasped it, granting him a broad smile as he pulled the other man close enough to murmur something at his ear. She didn’t catch his words, but whatever he’d said caused Blackthorn to shoot him a relieved smile as they parted. The message to all observing the exchange was clear: what had transpired tonight had caused no enmity between them.

Diana took her cue from this, so that when Blackthorn bowed over her hand, she forced her lips into a sultry smile. The look he cast up at her as he straightened was filled with a mixture of apprehension and naked longing. He’d won the prize he sought, and he’d managed to circumvent the obstacles she’d thrown in his path, but it was clear he had misgivings.

He’s not the only one. She stood and waited while their host summoned a servant with a lamp to light their path back across the gardens. The ache in the toes of her left foot had become a painful throbbing now, and all she wanted was to be home, soaking them in hot water. Just a little while longer…

As soon as they crossed the threshold, Harrow surprised her by swooping down and picking her up. Grateful to be off her feet, she laid her head on his shoulder and let him carry her without protest. The walk back through the gardens felt a mile long and seemed to take forever. So many words perched on the tip of her tongue, but she dared not speak until they were inside.

The moment the door to her house swung open, Harrow gave the gate key to the servant posted there to await their return, along with instructions to secure the gate and then give the key to the housekeeper.

A soft laugh broke from Diana’s throat, easing the tightness there as he climbed the stairs still carrying her. “I can only imagine what they must all be thinking.” Blackthorn would know it was her sore feet which had prompted her protector’s gallant act, but no one else would. They’d all think Harrow gone mad with jealousy, hauling her across the gardens and upstairs to doubtless ravish her the instant they arrived in her bedchamber.

Relief flooded her as Harrow deposited her on her bed and told Francine to have the kitchens ready water for a bath and bring it up in half an hour. She didn’t move until he came back, shut the door, and drew the curtains. Then, knowing it was safe, she finally addressed him. “You knew he’d win.”

His face was a study in serenity when he answered, “I thought he might, yes.”

“I’m still a virgin,” she reminded him, not bothering to mince words. “Or have you forgotten?”

“What difference does that make?”

Her temper flared, making it an effort to keep her voice down. “It will make a world of difference the moment he discovers it!”

“Then you do intend to go through with it,” he said, a faint smile curving his mouth.

“As if I have any other choice.” But her words lacked any real bite.

“Of course you have a choice, Diana,” he scolded, kneeling on the floor beside the bed to take one of her feet into his lap and gently remove one of her dancing slippers. “If you don’t truly want him, I’m happy to negotiate different compensation.” He looked up at her with sorrowful eyes. “I would have thought by now you’d know me better than to think I’d allow him to touch you without your enthusiastic consent. Had I thought you did not want his attentions, I would have called him out for his cheek. I still can.”

That he would risk his life to protect her—not for the sake of his own reputation, but to preserve her virtue, should she want to keep it… The backs of her eyelids stung, and she blinked back tears. No, she didn’t want Harrow to call Blackthorn out, and she told him so. “But the problem of my virginity remains. As soon as he discovers it, our ruse is ended.”

Harrow peeled off her stocking and examined her foot, cursing under his breath at the purple bruises already visible. “Burlington is a menace. There ought to be a law prohibiting the man from dancing,” he growled, making her laugh in spite of herself. “I won’t tell you to pretend otherwise because, as a man who once took a virgin bride, I know all too well it is not something that can be hidden. But our actions tonight guarantee his silence on the matter. He may discover the truth, but I can promise you he will never speak of it.”

“You’re as bad as he is, taking such risks,” she grumped, wincing as he liberated her other foot. It was even worse off. “This needlessly jeopardizes everything we’ve worked to build.”

“Love is never needless.”

She felt the blood leave her face at his words. “Love has nothing to do with it.”

“Does it not?”

Something in her chest tightened. But it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. “We hardly know each other.”

He pulled a wry face. “I’ve seen the way you look at each other. If you’re not in love, you soon will be. As for him? He’s already long gone over the edge of that cliff.”

Astonishment stole all her words for a moment. She ignored his assertions about her feelings, instead addressing those concerning Blackthorn’s. “Do you mean to say that you think…you think he’s in love with me?”

Her best friend chuckled as he grasped her legs by the ankles and swung them up onto the bed. “A blind man could tell, although he likely has no idea yet, himself. Men like him are often that way.”

Diana didn’t question it. Harrow was very good at reading others, and she trusted his opinion. But believing Blackthorn was in love with her changed nothing. “It makes no difference. As soon as he realizes he’s been lied to, he’ll figure out the rest of the truth, putting you and René in danger. No. I won’t do it.”

Harrow sat on the edge of the bed beside her. “If he had not already suggested raising the stakes tonight, I would have,” he confessed, again surprising her. “But I’m glad he did it without prompting. Allowing this to unfold the way it has means I won’t be forced to call him out—because the prize is being willingly granted rather than taken by force. Lean forward.”

She did as he bade, allowing him to unfasten the back of her gown as he continued talking.

“When he comes tomorrow, I’ll set the terms of your debt’s fulfilment. The first is that it will be carried out here. That will be non-negotiable. The second is that he will speak to no one concerning the details of what happens between you.”

The way his hands hesitated as he untied her sash told her there was more. “And the third?”

Harrow’s cheeks flushed as he leaned back to look her in the eyes. “Not to detract from the sentimentality of it all, but there are certain practicalities to be considered. He will discover you’re a virgin. He’ll guess why, and you’ll have to tell him the truth about René and I and your part in our lives. If a child should be born as the result of this wager, Blackthorn must claim responsibility for it. I will brook no dispute over Henry’s inheritance.”

The thought of bearing a child out of wedlock elicited all sorts of panicky sensations. “The herbs you spoke of to prevent conception, we must obtain some so I may begin taking them at once. But even they are no guarantee. Should it happen, there is no way to force him to acknowledge the babe as his own. You know this.”

“I beg to differ.” A grim smile thinned his lips. “If he should think to refuse, I’ll threaten to let slip that he was interested in more than just you when he made that wager.”

Alarm tightened her stomach. “But that would expose—”

“That was my foolish temper talking just now,” he said ruefully. “Pay it no heed, I beg you. I promise it won’t come to that. Blackthorn may have been willing to dance at the fire’s edge with regards to his reputation, but he won’t wish to leap into the flames direct. He would not survive the scandal of it. I would. I have. My reputed penchant for sharing your charms is widely accepted as debauched but within the law.”

“Because there are no witness accounts to say otherwise and because we’ve fed the assumption that your interest is in me and not our overnight guests,” she supplied as he eased the gown down off her shoulders.

He let out a dark chuckle. “They certainly won’t assume the same of Blackthorn after the way you had him chasing my coattails this month. Why do you think I was so friendly with him when we left tonight? Trust me—he’ll cooperate.”

Diana had to admit he’d tied it up rather neatly. “Your ability to manipulate others into doing your bidding is a little frightening at times, you know.”

“The man did this to himself,” replied Harrow, spreading his hands wide. “He was so eager for you that he was willing to take wild risks.”

Shifting the skirts of her gown out from beneath her, she settled back against the pillows in her chemise to await the arrival of her bath. “I should be flattered,” she said on a sigh. “Instead, I’m afraid. Afraid he’ll be wroth when he finds out I’m not really what he wants. I’m no courtesan—I have knowledge of love play, but no experience.”

Reaching out Harrow tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear. “My dear, I think he would want you no matter what your occupation or experience.”

“He did not want me when I was a debutante,” she retorted softly, fingering the fine linen of her chemise. “I was too boring for him then. I can only imagine his disappointment when he finds out I’m the same person I was when he first met me.”

“But you’re not,” he said, his voice gentling. “Not even close. You’ve learned more about yourself and the world in the last two years than most of your peers could even begin to imagine. If he is disappointed with you, then he’s a damned fool.”

A knock sounded at her door. Standing, he leaned over, planted a kiss atop her curled head, and whispered. “As soon as they’ve gone, I’m going to signal René to come through so we can fill him in on what’s happened.”

It meant bathing in her chemise behind a screen for decency’s sake, but she didn’t mind. The last thing she wanted right now was to be left alone with her thoughts and fears.

…

Watching Harrow carry Diana across the gardens made Lucas’s stomach do an odd little flip. He knows her feet are sore. That’s all it is. Still, it made all the appearance of a man determined to wipe out all thoughts of other men from his lover’s mind.

“I say,” said Westing, eyes bright with curiosity as he joined him. “You, my friend, have bollocks of solid granite. Congratulations. I cannot believe you managed it without getting called out.”

“Neither can I,” Lucas grated, snagging a glass of wine from a passing tray and downing it. “But don’t congratulate me quite yet. Nothing is final.”

“You think the lady may try to renege?”

“I don’t,” he replied, certain. “But the details must be worked out. With Harrow.”

“But you’re friends now, are you not?” murmured the other man with enthusiasm. “I saw the way you parted company—that was not an angry or jealous man. If anything, he looked pleased,” he added with a good-natured elbow nudge. “You’ve done it, my friend! O happy man, to have been welcomed into that elite circle.” Stopping, he faced Lucas and puffed out his chest. “I know you’ll make England proud.”

Laughing, Lucas brushed past him. Yes, he’d done it. But at what cost? Westing had known of his plan from the beginning, but he was the only one. Everyone else here must make assumptions based solely on observation—and what they’d seen painted him in a very questionable light.

His reputation as a gambler and lifter-of-skirts was one he’d built with great care and deliberation. Had he just taken the first step in destroying the latter? He had won a night with Diana, but he’d also played the part of Harrow’s shadow now for weeks. He’d even gone to the man’s tailor with him, for heaven’s sake.

Then again, Harrow’s known vice was specific. Diana had told him her protector liked to watch. Well, he won’t be watching me. Of that much, Lucas was certain. He wanted her all to himself. No voyeurism would be permitted.

But what if it was one of Harrow’s requirements? Could he do it? He’d tupped a willing wench with other men in the same room before. It shouldn’t feel any different. But Lucas knew it would. Those had been his university mates, and as far as he knew none of them fancied other men. Harrow did. Even though they were on friendly terms, and even if the fellow never laid a finger on him, it would feel…awkward.

The very idea made his palms sweat. I’m beginning to regret making that wager.

But even as he thought it, her image rose in his mind’s eye. The memory of her smile, her laugh, the way the sun glinted in her hair, turning it into spun gold. Her soft voice, the way she looked at him as if seeing into his very soul. She was utterly captivating.

And he liked her. Her forthright manner held such appeal. He didn’t like people who dissembled. Especially women. She was different.

He liked her a great deal. Enough to admit to himself he wanted more than one night. The original plan, then. Persuade her to leave Harrow and their lover.

It still rankled that he didn’t really know who the fellow was. He’d seemingly come from nowhere. As skilled a pianist as he was, he ought to have had some patronage before becoming Harrow’s lover.

Lucas’s step faltered as another thought struck.

What if he did? He’d assumed Harrow had known the man first, but what if it was the other way around? What if the pianist was in fact the unknown lover who’d caused Grenville to abandon the idea of marrying Diana? It all made sense. Upon being discovered and subsequently cast out, she’d become Harrow’s mistress and then had introduced him to her lover.

How ironic it must have been for her to learn that Harrow and her musical amour had developed a taste for one another. He’d give a lot to know how it had ended with the three of them coexisting in seeming harmony. But he couldn’t ask her about it until she revealed his identity herself, or she’d know he’d been spying on her.

One slip, and… Such an error didn’t bear consideration. He locked his curiosity away, determined not to let it get the better of him. Again. It had already landed him in far too much trouble.

The atmosphere in the ballroom had begun to noticeably shift. He could feel questions hanging in the air like gathering storm clouds. Everyone would want to know the details. He would provide none. He couldn’t. At least not until he knew what he’d gotten himself into.

…

At precisely two o’clock the next day, Lucas found himself settling into a chair opposite Harrow and Diana in her drawing room. The gentleman had greeted him with surprising warmth, as if they truly were good friends, and Lucas had relaxed, secure in the knowledge that his host wasn’t jealous.

And for good reason. His lover was doubtless waiting for him upstairs. Her lover, too. The thought made him clench his teeth. No matter how hard he tried not to look at it, Lucas’s traitorous gaze kept wandering over to where the pianoforte stood by the window.

Harrow’s voice jarred him from his increasingly black thoughts. “Though you’ve never asked me about it, I’m certain you must know by now that Diana and I are accustomed to this sort of thing.”

“I’ve heard a few rumors,” he replied carefully, striving to appear calm.

One corner of the other man’s mouth quirked upward. “Then you must have heard something of my role in such assignations.”

Indeed, he had. When he tried to speak, Lucas found his mouth devoid of moisture. He’d been a bold liar when he’d told Diana he wouldn’t mind taking them both on. Now his bluff was being called. Though his innards trembled, he forced himself to meet the other man’s gaze. “I try not to pay heed to idle gossip, but yes.” He was pleased at how nonchalant he sounded, as if it didn’t matter to him in the least whether or not it was true.

Harrow’s smile deepened, and something like approval flickered in his eyes. “Allow me to set you at ease by assuring you that, although I’m quite fond of you and consider you a friend, I have no interest in making you my bedpartner.” He leaned forward a little and winked. “Handsome as you are, you’re simply not my sort.”

It was only with the utmost self-discipline that Lucas refrained from sagging in relief. Despite his effort to conceal his reaction, however, he suspected Harrow knew. Giving up the charade, he allowed himself a small huff of laughter. “Fond as I am of you, as well, I cannot say I’m offended by your rejection.”

Soft laughter followed the admission before Harrow carried on. “I’m glad that’s cleared. As to your interest in Diana, you should know it was her decision, and hers alone, to accept and follow through on this wager. I asked her if she would prefer I offer you alternative compensation. She refused.”

She does want me! Again, Lucas was filled with exultation as he looked to his hostess. Part of him was peeved over her attempt to cozen him into embarrassing himself through a public pursuit of Harrow, but he was too happy and relieved to sustain his ire. Of course she’d tried to dissuade him! She had a great deal to hide, and he understood she viewed him as a risk of exposure. “I’m glad you chose to honor our wager, and I promise you won’t regret it.”

“She better not,” said Harrow before she could reply. “Nor should I.” Now Lucas saw the deadly duelist in the face of the man he’d, surprisingly, begun to genuinely think of as a friend. “Which leads me to the requirements for this rendezvous. It must be held here, and you will vow never to reveal to anyone the specific details of what occurs beneath this roof. I don’t expect you to deny the assignation—all of London knows of the wager—but if and when you speak of it, you will be discreet. I’ll not tolerate Diana being denigrated by anyone.”

A frown pulled at Lucas’s brow. “You may count on my utmost discretion, of course. And know that I’ll be the first to set my fist to any man’s face should he speak ill of her in my presence.” The vehemence with which he said it shocked him a little. He mellowed his tone and addressed the lady directly. “My desire for you has nothing to do with being able to boast of any conquest.”

At last she spoke, her soft voice cutting the thick silence that had fallen. “I’m aware, or I would never have agreed to this.”

Again, as Lucas looked at her, he realized one night with her wasn’t going to be enough. But it was a start. He’d make it the best night of her life, a night to make her want many more just like it. A night to make her forget the pianist and every other man she’d ever known. “I’m glad. You have my word as a gentleman that I won’t share the details of our assignation with anyone.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, demurely looking down at her hands, which were folded on her lap. He briefly marveled at the sudden rosiness of her cheeks but had no more time to reflect on it as she continued. “Then I invite you to dine with us here tomorrow evening at seven o’clock and remain with me thereafter as my guest until the following morning.”

“It will be my honor.” A frisson of excitement ran through him such as he’d not experienced since he’d been a green youth. Mingled with it, however, was a bit of affront at the thought of Harrow chaperoning them. But he couldn’t begrudge it.

After all, she is playing the part of his mistress, and she is his friend. It stands to reason he’d want to remain close to see to her safety. Briefly, he wondered what her nimble-fingered lover must think of this arrangement. Before he could ponder it, however, Diana rose suddenly, startling him.

“No, please don’t get up,” she said, stopping him from doing likewise. “If you’ll pardon me, gentlemen, I have another matter to which I must attend.”

Lucas watched in consternation as she exited and shut the door behind her. Looking to Harrow, he saw the other man was watching him with contemplative eyes. “Is anything the matter?”

Harrow’s demeanor remained calm and relaxed. “She is nervous, and rightly so. It’s not often we invite people into our most intimate circle. I imagine it would shock you to learn that though it may appear otherwise, that circle is quite small.”

Knowing it wouldn’t do to let on just how small he knew it really was, Lucas remained silent.

Rising, Harrow went to a tray laden with decanters and proceeded to pour them both a drink. “I’m not surprised she decided to honor the wager, however,” he said with a small sigh. “I’ve marked the way she looks at you. And the way you look at her,” he added as he brought over two glasses of whiskey. “I knew you were going to be trouble the moment I saw you.”

It was said in a good-natured manner free of rancor, but still Lucas felt the sharp sting of guilt. She’d clearly been quite happy with her life as it was, and he’d deliberately set out to disrupt it. Taking the glass proffered, he sampled the amber fire within, giving an appreciative nod to his host as its warmth slid down his throat. “I won’t deny my desire for her. Given that you’re known to share her favors, I’d thought to satisfy it without causing anyone pain. Was I in error to assume it possible?”

Harrow let out a small huff of laughter as he took a sip of his own drink. “Indeed, but not the sort of pain you think. Diana is precious to me, but her heart is not mine save in friendship. I feel the same kind of love for her. Though I am protective, mine is not a jealous love as so many have assumed,” he added with a wry twist of the lips. “As such, I can ‘share’ her with others without taking injury. But I cannot do without her friendship and affection. I’m not willing to give those up.”

It was the last thing Lucas expected the man to say, and he couldn’t hide his surprise. So stunned was he that he could form no response whatsoever.

Which was fine, because Harrow wasn’t finished. “Whatever happens between you, I won’t stand in the way. She deserves happiness. But please don’t take her from me entirely. I could not bear it. I consider her part of my family.”

Lucas remained dumbstruck. He knew he ought to reply, but nothing would come out of his mouth. Desperate to avoid the embarrassment of having been rendered speechless, he knocked back the rest of what was in his glass, hoping it would loosen his tongue. “I mean to make her mine,” he blurted in the wake of the whiskey’s fire. Why the seven hells did I tell him that?

Harrow smiled faintly. “Of course you do. I cannot see you doing anything else.”

“It would be her choice, you understand,” Lucas rushed on. “But if she agrees to become my mistress, she will be mine—I won’t share her with anyone, including former lovers.” He thought of the other man upstairs and knew his host was likely thinking the same.

“If you can persuade her to your course, I would like to hope we will remain friends,” said Harrow, his gaze narrowing speculatively. “And I don’t just mean Diana and me. I was being quite honest when I said I’m fond of you.”

Amazingly, Lucas was warmed by the compliment, which was a bit unsettling. Now that the danger of being considered fair game for a bedchamber adventure had passed, he supposed he could afford to feel flattered. “I’m honored to call you my friend, as well,” he said at last. “Truly. You’re one of the most remarkable people I’ve ever known. In the interest of furthering our friendship, let us be entirely frank with one another. You’re not in love with Diana, and you seem resigned to her leaving you.”

The other man rotated his glass, seemingly intent on watching the light play in the prismatic crystal. “Indeed. I’ve always known it to be inevitable.”

Well, there was that, at least. “Is there anything else I ought to know about the situation in which I seem to have become entangled?”

The silence grew so thick between them he could hear the soft ticking of the clock on the mantel across the room.

Harrow took the opportunity to finish off his whiskey before continuing. “I fear I cannot speak further without betraying her confidence, and that is something I won’t do.” Rising, he went back to the tray and retrieved the decanter. “You’ll learn the rest of it when she’s ready for you to know.”

It was a most unsatisfying answer, and Lucas was tempted to reveal his knowledge of their secret to force the issue. But he held his peace. If he spoke now, it might ruin any chance he had with Diana. And he wanted that chance. Badly. Yes, this was an almighty tangled web into which he’d fallen, to be sure, but he couldn’t see any way out of it that didn’t involve either cutting himself off from her or going forward blind. Well, almost blind.

“What do you want out of this?” asked Harrow suddenly as he bent to refill Lucas’s glass. “I know Diana means more to you than a simple conquest. What do you intend to make of her once you have her?”

Lucas stared at him as if he’d spoken in an alien tongue. “Make of her?”

Harrow’s brow furrowed. “When I first took her on as my mistress, it was to be for five years, after which she’d have wealth enough to do as she pleased. She was planning on taking a new name and building another life for herself somewhere far away where no one would know about her past.”

Leaning forward, Lucas peered at him in consternation. “You only intended to keep her for five years?”

“In the beginning, yes. But then our relationship became…complicated. I grew to love her. You’re correct in that I’m not in love with her; however, my feelings regarding Diana are quite powerful. I adore her in the same way I adore my wife. I’ve shot and skewered men over an insult to her. I’ve lied industriously to more people than I can count, including you, in an attempt to preserve her happiness. I’ve even ruined the lives of some of those who’ve injured her. I would do almost anything for her sake.”

Now Lucas was thoroughly confused, and feeling more than a little threatened.

It must have shown on his face, because Harrow let out a bark of laughter. “Do you think the human heart so small it cannot love more than one person to such an extent? Lady Harrow was and remains my oldest friend and the mother of my heir. I may not love her in the carnal sense—she cannot again conceive without grave risk to her life, which I will not give—but I do love her. Deeply. She feels the same affection for me—and for Diana. The two look on each other quite as sisters. If you decide to make Diana your own, you should know we have become her family. The only way you can truly have her is if you’re willing to share her in that capacity.”

Lucas tried to wrap his mind around this strange new development. Harrow loved his wife and his mistress and the pianist whom he’d as yet failed to mention. Libertinism was one thing. That, he could comprehend. But this? This was…he didn’t know what this was. He’d never heard of such a thing. Tangled web, indeed. “How am I to maintain such ties if she agrees to become my mistress?”

“In befriending me, you’ve already taken the first step. She would never have agreed to honor the wager did she not feel your fondness for me was genuine, and vice versa.” He paused to take another sip. “Clearly, you weighed the possible consequences of a close association with me and found them acceptable, or you would not be here now.”

“She did warn me certain assumptions would be made,” Lucas muttered, taking another swallow of whiskey, too.

“They are already being made. And it will likely only get worse. You must be prepared to answer such assumptions as are voiced in inquiry, whether direct or otherwise, with resolute misdirection or silence. They might speculate, but no one can know what I really am—and what they already suspect you of being.”

The urge to squirm was almost overpowering, such was his discomfort at confronting the issue. “You must pardon my ignorance, but I hardly know how to define that, myself.”

Another laugh, this one gentle, full of patience. “You know what I am. If you must put a name to it, the least unsavory term I’ve heard is ‘amphibious’.”

Lucas had heard it said before of those attracted to both men and women. He nodded. The question nagged at him until he couldn’t stand it anymore. “And you truly don’t find me at all…?”

One of Harrow’s brows arched high. “Are you disappointed?”

“Not in the least,” he laughed, draining his glass. “Though I’ll admit I was a tiny bit flattered to think you might be when Diana first tried to use the idea to frighten me off.” Their easy laughter mingled, and the tension between Lucas’s shoulder blades eased.

“Ah, vanity,” said Harrow wryly. “As I said, you’re handsome but not my sort. After all, just because you’re attracted to women does not signify that you’re attracted to all women. The same applies to people like me. We all have our individual preferences.” He settled a long, weighty stare on Lucas. “Do you really want Diana enough to do whatever is necessary to make this work?”

At this point, the decision had already been made. I must be insane. “I suppose I can withstand a bit more of Society’s disapproval.”