Free Miss Marianne's Disgrace by Georgie Lee Page B

Cartwright’s, which had soothed and encouraged him and he wanted more of it.
    He tugged on his loose cravat as an idea as unbelievable as it was tempting began to come to him. If Miss Domville could help him overcome his block once, she could do it again. No, it was foolish to draw her into his struggles, or to tempt himself with her company. She wasn’t one of the London widows eager to discreetly amuse him, but a young lady fighting for respectability. For him to suggest any relationship with her outside of a betrothal and marriage was to risk her reputation further and he shouldn’t even consider it, except he needed her. With his talent failing him, he might lose everything he’d achieved and find himself as destitute as his father had been at his death. He wouldn’t allow it, or be forced by weakness back to the Navy to make his living. With blank pages and bills facing him, he couldn’t allow his muse to escape.
    â€˜If you agree to come here and play the piano for me, I can create another story.’ He smiled with all the charisma he employed to woo patrons in London, hoping she didn’t dismiss the idea outright. He didn’t doubt, given her fierce entry into his study, she’d shrink from turning him down.
    She laced her arms beneath her breasts and stepped back, the cynical schoolmarm returning. ‘And what instrument do you hope I’ll play afterwards? I’m not Madame de Badeau, a woman to be hired as a mistress.’
    He didn’t blame her for being cautious. Once he’d achieved fame, the number of people he could trust had shrunk significantly.
    â€˜I don’t want a mistress, but a muse.’ It was difficult to look at her and not think of twining his hands in her golden hair, tasting her pink lips as they parted beneath his and freeing those glorious breasts from their prim confines. He’d better not concentrate on them if he wanted to win her co-operation and keep himself free from distraction, and bankruptcy. ‘I need you.’
    â€˜No one needs me.’ The same worthlessness which had torn him apart the morning Leticia had died hung in Miss Domville’s words. He gripped his hands hard behind his back, silently raging at himself and the world. A woman of Miss Domville’s loveliness and innocence didn’t deserve to feel the way he had that awful morning.
    â€˜I do. I realise it’s a ridiculous request, but if I don’t have something to turn into my publisher soon, I could lose everything.’ Lancelot trotted to his side and sat down next to him. Warren dropped his hand on the dog’s head and stroked it, the simple motion easing the anxiety of waiting for Miss Domville’s answer.
    â€˜Maybe what you need isn’t a new novel, but a rich wife.’ She slid him a brazen glance from beneath her long eyelashes, inviting him to come closer like a siren eager to dash him against the rocks. If she wrecked him, it would be no one’s fault but his own. He only hoped the destruction waited until he was done with his next novel.
    â€˜I’m not so mercenary about marriage and not about to live off a wife, especially not after everything I’ve done to achieve what I have.’ He opened his hands to the room and the very house around them. ‘My request is nothing more than a business arrangement, not a ridiculous courting ruse.’
    â€˜Good, because I have no interest in a husband.’ At least they held similar views on matrimony, though it saddened more than heartened him. She was alone and isolating herself further from the world. It wasn’t right. ‘I also have no desire to become the talk of the countryside because of this proposed arrangement and the attention my connection to a famous author might bring.’
    â€˜Then we won’t tell anyone about it, beyond those who must absolutely know. My mother will act as chaperon.’
    â€˜Even if we tried to keep it a