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T o Tiffany’s dismay, Wolf had not called on her this afternoon. Still, there was always the opera, although how she’d have time to speak with him privately at the theater, she had no idea. But he had promised a carriage ride in the park tomorrow afternoon. That would surely be the perfect time to talk about his uncle. No one would overhear.

She had managed to snatch some sleep before dinner, and now Milly was finishing her hair for the excursion to the theater. She usually hated the theater. Everyone attending simply to be seen. Since no one particularly cared whether she was present or not, the evening usually dragged. But tonight would be different. Valora would be in the box. Claire was determined to make Fane take note of their beautiful friend.

Wolf might pay her a visit also, and she wanted to see if he did, and how he behaved. Would he declare to the ton his intentions to court her?

It was not very surprising that the Marlowes’ carriage arrived directly behind Wolf’s. They only lived a few houses apart and had left at about the same time.

She watched Wolf help his sisters from the carriage. Their party made their way over to where she stood with Fane, Claire and Valora. She took a few deep breaths. In evening attire, Wolf could outshine a full moon. Several women descending from their carriages almost stumbled at the sight of him.

“Good evening, ladies. Marlowe.”

“Your box or mine this evening?” Fane replied.

“Ours I’m afraid, we invited Valora,” Claire replied.

“I’m happy to join your party, Lady Claire,” Wolf said, then moved to talk with Marlowe as they made their way into the Theatre Royal. Tiffany overheard Fane ask, “Can you see the ladies home? I wish to stay after the performance.”

She could not hear Wolf’s reply but obviously Fane wished to visit backstage to see his mistress, Mrs. Buchanan. She looked at Valora, who didn’t appear to have heard Fane’s comment, thank goodness.

The ladies took the seats at the front of the box. Claire placed Valora between her and Tiffany, knowing that Wolf would sit behind her. That meant Fane would be right behind Valora. Ashleigh automatically sat on the side almost hidden by the curtain, still not happy to be the object of gossip given the ton had not forgotten her scandal almost two years ago now.

One day Tiffany would ascertain what had occurred. Not because she was nosey, but so as to help Ashleigh find her own worth and make her not care what society thought of her.

Heat hit the back of her neck as Wolf leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “You look very pretty tonight, Miss Deveraux. No glasses this evening.”

“Luckily the opera is more about hearing than seeing as I’m almost blind without them.” She did not care what this man thought of her. Besides, it was the truth. She was very short-sighted. He may as well learn her flaws now.

“I always found the opera is more about feeling than seeing or hearing,” he said. She could have sworn his lips brushed the skin of her neck. Her body heated immediately and she was pleased he could not see her face. Wolf had decided fairness was a word he did not know the meaning of.

“Claire, would you mind swapping seats with me so I can talk to Ashleigh?” That should fix him. Wolf wouldn’t be able to switch or it would be commented upon. She couldn’t help giving him a snarky smile as she rose to move.

She turned her attention to Ashleigh and drew her into a conversation, hoping the opera would start soon.

*

Wolf had meant it when he’d said to Tiffany about the music. He loved opera; maybe it was his artistic nature. The strains swirled around him, but for once he couldn’t appreciate them because all he could focus on was the shape of Tiffany’s neck and the way her skin had tasted.

The little minx had bested him this evening. She’d moved on purpose. He sat back and let the music flood his senses. Closing his eyes, he pictured his lips dancing over her creamy skin in time to the beat.

Her neck was long and slender and he’d love to draw it. He’d love to draw her. She was all womanly curves and bristling passion. He wondered if she actually understood her nature. He was confident it would not take him long to make her soften to his advances. The way she’d shivered as he’d tasted her skin was evidence enough. Plus, why move if he had not affected her?

So lost in thought was he, he had not noticed the first act had ended. “Shall I organize some refreshments?” he asked Marlowe.

“I want to go for a cheroot. Can you see to the ladies?”

“Can’t you wait until the opera finishes to see her? I can’t chaperon all five ladies. What if one wishes to use the retiring room?”

Marlowe was already on his feet. “I’m sure if they go in pairs, they will be perfectly fine.” He left before Wolf could object.

Lady Claire watched her brother depart and shook her head. She rose and approached Wolf. “Could you organize some refreshments?” In a louder voice she added, “Tiffany can help you.”

Tiffany didn’t look pleased, but she could hardly object.

The corridors were crowded and Wolf tucked her arm in his as they made their way toward the rear of the theater.

“I’m very much looking forward to our ride in the park tomorrow.”

She flashed a look at him. “I am too. I have a matter to discuss with you.”

That sounded ominous. “Can we not discuss it now?”

She shook her pretty head. “No. It must wait until tomorrow.”

Even more puzzling. Tiffany seemed to be searching the crowd for someone, her head turning left and right. “Are you enjoying the opera?” She kept looking around. He cleared his throat.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

“I was asking if you were enjoying the opera.”

She looked over her shoulder. “Yes. Do you know where Marlowe disappeared to?”

He was not about to tell her the truth. That her guardian had raced off to see his mistress. “I think he had business with Lord Tyler. Can I help you with anything?”

She swung to face him. “No. I hoped he wouldn’t be too long. Miss Valora is a guest and I thought he might have conversed with her.”

A smile broke over his lips. So that was why Miss Valora was in their box while her mother was with friends in their family box across from them. How did he explain to Tiffany that Marlowe was not even considering marriage?

His smile quickly vanished as he noticed who was determinedly walking his way.

“Lord Wolfarth, how lovely to see you tonight.”

Delia, on the arm of Lord Wilton. Wolf had broken off their arrangement only yesterday, so this was Delia showing him how quickly she could move on. And he didn’t care. Since Margo, his relationships never involved feelings. They were about sex and mutual pleasure—physical release only. And it had taken many years before he could face even that, but a man did have needs. He still felt guilty and often had to drink in order to relax enough to enjoy sex.

“Lady Delia and Lord Wilton, I hope you’re enjoying the opera. May I present Miss Tiffany Deveraux?”

Delia’s eyebrow rose. She hadn’t recognized Tiffany but obviously knew the name. “Marlowe’s ward?” Lord Wilton offered. “Good of you to escort her since Marlowe has disappeared backstage,” Wilton laughed.

Tiffany turned accusing eyes his way, while he, had ladies not been present, would have punched Wilton in the face for his crude behavior. Instead, he drew himself up to his full height. “I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.”

Wilton took the hint, clearing his throat and turning to talk with Lord Milburn, who had stopped at his side.

Lady Delia, however, looked like the cat who ate the canary. She looked Tiffany up and down and dismissed her as of no consequence. It was true that Delia was an exceptional beauty to whom few other women compared. After all, her looks were how she made a living. But on the inside, she couldn’t hold a candle to Tiffany. He’d known Delia was a mistake the minute he’d formed their arrangement. She’d been far too demanding of his time and wanted more than money and sex from him. Lady Delia had fallen on hard times upon her husband’s death. With no widow’s portion, she needed an arrangement, but she was also looking for marriage and he would prefer someone less scheming.

Delia sidled up to him and whispered loud enough for Tiffany to hear, “I hope you were not too late to your engagement yesterday, after spending the afternoon with me.”

Tiffany’s fingers dug into his arm. “I was in your house for barely five minutes, if you recall, so I was not late to my meeting, but thank you for your concern.” Delia’s smile dimmed slightly.

“Well, I look forward to a longer visit soon.”

Sometimes he wished he could slap a woman. Delia new damn well he would never be back. “I’m afraid I’m likely to be very busy for quite some time. Lord Wilton looks happy enough to keep you company. Come, Tiffany, refreshments await,” he said, almost dragging her away.

“Slow down, Wolf. My gown will not allow long strides. Your mistress seems to have upset you. Is it because she was with Lord Milton?”

His mouth almost dropped open. He stopped and swung Tiffany around to face him. “How do you know… No. Don’t answer that. Lady Delia is no longer my mistress and she is a tad unhappy with the situation.”

“Oh,” was all Tiffany said, but he could see her mind working.

“And no, I do not have need of a replacement. It would not be honorable when courting you.”

“I do not require such a sacrifice,” she said.

He drew them into the shadows. “I do not consider it a sacrifice. You promised me that you would allow me to court you and I have too much honor to court a woman while in the bed of another.” At her gasp, he reached up and skimmed his finger down the soft skin of her cheek. “I swear, it is no hardship at all. I find you infinitely more interesting.” Then he pressed a kiss to her forehead before drawing them back in to the crowd.

“You are serious, aren’t you?”

“Serious?”

“Your offer of marriage. A marriage of convenience. You were actually serious.”

He leaned closer as they walked so only she could hear. “Of course. I would never be flippant with the woman with whom I wish to align my life. Or whom I choose to be the mother of my children.”

His words were true. Tiffany’s sharp wit and intelligence thrilled him in ways Delia’s bountiful breasts couldn’t.

With refreshments organized, they made their way back to Marlowe’s box. Many of his contemporaries had stopped to converse and it was very noticeable that none of the ladies bothered with Tiffany. It was as if she were invisible, just like she’d mentioned on the carriage ride home from Capel Court. By the time they arrived back in the box, Wolf was decided. Even if he could not convince Tiffany to become his countess—something he refused to believe he could not achieve—he would ensure Tiffany became the ton diamond. Or at least ensure that no one ignored her ever again.

To his delight, this time she stayed sitting in the seat in front of him. He leaned forward. “Be warned. You should take my courtship seriously, because I intend to win your hand.”

Tiffany peered over her shoulder and met Wolf’s smoldering eyes, and for the first time she was unsure whether she should continue their wager. Perhaps confessing all to Fane would be the best course of action.

Why? Why did Wolf wish to marry her?

Surely her investing skills were not the only reason? There had to be something else.

He didn’t love her. How could he? He barely knew her. Besides, she’d seen how he acted when he was in love.

He had been madly in love with Lady Margo, but she had died before they could wed. She’d not heard the full details of the exact cause of Margo’s death, but the pair had been set upon by highwaymen, like her father and mother had. Margo had survived but died shortly after. Maybe she’d been wounded in the attack?

Tiffany and Claire had been so envious of Lady Margo. Her and Wolf’s engagement was six years ago, just after Tiffany had arrived to live with Lord Marlowe. Tiffany’s heart had broken when she learned of his betrothal—she’d been infatuated with the young Wolfarth. But he’d only had eyes for Lady Margo.

At two and twenty, Wolf had swept Margo off her feet. Theirs had been the match of the season, more so because it was obvious to all that they were madly in love.

Perhaps Wolf was still in love with her memory, and did not wish to find a love match again. Much like Courtney and her fiancé, who’d died in the Irish Rebellion.

She would speak to Courtney about her love for Lucien. Did he still fill her heart? Did Courtney think she could ever forget him and marry another?

She risked a glimpse behind her and shivered as she realized Wolf wasn’t watching the stage, but her. She was too intelligent to believe she was so desirable that he just had to marry her. The only reason they’d even conversed about such a topic was because he’d caught her at the Stock Exchange. He suspected her skills but had no proof. Was this courtship a way to ascertain what she could do?

She slumped in her seat. So it must be her investing proficiency that attracted him. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Her mother’s words— men don’t like wives to be smarter than they are —rang in her head. Wolf didn’t seem to care, though. He obviously saw it as an advantage. She’d give him points for that. But would she be happy in a marriage that was no more a business arrangement? Or should she stick to her original plan to remain a spinster? A life on her own terms.

There were distinct advantages to such a marriage with Wolf. She’d no longer be a charity case and she’d contribute to her new family’s wealth. She’d belong. Having Ivy and Ashleigh as sisters would be lovely. And then there was the idea of children. She’d never let herself consider her chances of becoming a mother. Now his offer threw that possibility before her. And she found it very appealing.

But not as appealing as the man.

She looked over her shoulder once more and straight into Wolf’s handsome face. He was so tempting. Sharing his bed would be…most likely a dream come true. But would he promise to share her bed and no one else’s? Love could hurt her. Destroy her. Because her infatuation with the man hadn’t waned since the day he’d carried her into her new home all those years ago.

She glanced at Ashleigh sitting quietly in the corner as she usually did when out in public. Tiffany’s heart bled for the woman, who was so beautiful she’d tempt a priest. Ashleigh was also one of the cleverest women she’d had the pleasure to meet. So it puzzled Tiffany greatly as to what Ashleigh could have done. She seemed too smart to fall for any rogue.

She would talk to Ashleigh about her brother and his offer. Claire had suggested that she also confess to the DD that Wolf had learned her secret and knew that she invested in the stock market. Would this mean he’d guess who was challenging him and the other men?

Perhaps she should have told the girls today.