A Marquess' Forbidden Desire (Steamy Historical Regency)

by Lucinda Nelson

  “In part.”

  “What else are you suggesting?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer, but she didn’t know what else to say. Silence felt too incriminating.

  “That you watch me from the window.”

  At last, she looked back at him. Her face was steely. “That is a bold suggestion. Perhaps I am watching my sister.”

  “Does your sister fascinate you?” He asked, with a quirked brow. It was so bold. So unlike the Knight she’d known.

  “You are not as you were,” she said, with a degree of scrutiny in her expression. She saw that he was standing stiffly, with his hands behind his back.

  “How do you mean?”

  “You were… almost shy at the fair.”

  His chin rose a little higher. “It was different then.”

  “Was it? So different that you were another man?”

  “I cannot be like that here. I am the Marquess of Riversdale. I have certain… expectations to meet.”

  “Whose expectations?” She wondered, with a small frown.

  “The expectations of many.”

  “Your parents.”

  He nodded.

  “It is always the parents,” she said, with a small smile, but he did not smile back at her. “Then are you suggesting that the man you were at the fair is who you truly are?”

  “Not in the least,” Lord Redmond answered, rather abruptly.

  “Then this is who you are?”

  He paused. “Do you not like who I am now?”

  Marianne did not answer right away. She only stared at him, openly and without pretense. “I like you well enough,” she said, with reservation.

  “But not so much as you did then?”

  She smiled at him a little. “Does that matter now?”

  Lord Redmond went very quiet after that. Marianne returned to looking out the window. After a while, she wondered if she had upset him. If perhaps she should apologize.

  Then she felt him stand beside her, so close that she could see him out of the corner of her eye. “I was myself at the fair,” he said, quietly. “I do not know what I am now.”

  “Provided you are happy, I do not think it is of much consequence.”

  He looked at her and she looked at him. For an instant, their green eyes met and she felt a lurch of feeling through her belly.

  “So this is where I find you?”

  They both turned around. It was Eliza who had spoken. She was standing in the doorway, red-faced, staring at them. Her eyes looked heated.

  “We argue and this is where I find you?”

  “He asked me to help him find you sister,” Marianne explained. “So that he could apologize..” She said this on Lord Redmond’s behalf, to appease her sister. And because she knew that her sister wouldn’t let this go until he apologized.

  And that he would apologize.

  All the men Eliza had ever had anything with wound up apologizing eventually.

  “Is that true?” Eliza said, in a terse but hopeful voice. “You are seeing things my way?”

  Marianne saw a muscle flicker in Lord Redmond’s jaw. She didn’t know what they’d been arguing about, but she knew who’d won. Eliza always won.

  “Of course,” he said, at last.

  Eliza expelled a breath. “Then come,” she said and extended her hand towards him. “Let us walk.”

  He looked at Marianne. She smiled at him. “Good day, my Lord.”

  “Good day, my Lady.”

  With that, the pair of them left her alone in the library. She waited until they were outside in the gardens and put her hand against the glass, over his body.

  As they walked along the path, she saw him look back and up at her. Their eyes met through the glass. Their stare held.

  Then she turned away and left the room.

  Chapter 17

  Lord Alexander Anthony Redmond, Marquess of Riversdale

  Their moments spent in the library together made him heartsore. After his argument with Eliza, he’d felt empty. And in truth, he hadn’t needed Marianne’s help finding Eliza.

  He’d wanted her help, because he’d needed time with her. Despite the emotional distance between them, he felt comforted in her presence. Just hearing her voice put his restless mind at ease, even amid the internal chaos associated with his engagement.

  With every day that passed, he wanted to marry Eliza less and less.

  And he wanted Marianne more and more.

  “Why aren’t you up?” Julius asked. Once again, Alexander had stayed at his house for the night. To avoid his parents’ pressing questions regarding his fiancé.

  Alexander moaned. “Leave me be.”

  “It is almost noon. Do you realize that?”

  He put a pillow over his head. He had not slept well. Not at all. He’d been thinking of Marianne all night. Of what she’d said about him being different.

  Was she right? Was that gentle, almost shy man who he really was, when he wasn’t driving himself crazy trying to be the Marquess his father expected him to be? Tough, cold, aloof, bold. Sometimes he wondered if he was any of those things.

  “Well?” Julius pressed. “You are due at the Purcell’s.”

  “It is one day,” he mumbled. “They won’t miss me for one day.”

  “Oh but they will. And you do not want to upset your fiancé again.”

  Alexander rolled over and looked up at the ceiling. “You want to see the maid.”

  “Why do you always say that? I want to see dear Lady Marianne. She is my friend too,” Julius said, with a note of faux offense in his voice. But it was just a game. He knew the sound of insincerity in his friend’s voice.

  Alexander grimaced. “Perhaps she is your friend. She does not seem to be mine.”

  “She is unresponsive to your attempts? I cannot imagine why.”

  “I do not appreciate your sarcasm.”

  “And I do not appreciate your willful ignorance. If you want to be the girl’s friend, stop cornering her in dark hallways and libraries.”

  “Then how do you suppose I spend time with her?”

  “If your intentions are truly innocent and you are only interested in friendship, then you needn’t hide in the shadows,” Julius advised.

  “Eliza is a jealous woman.”

  “Will you never speak to a woman again? I think not. Eliza needs to get used to you living an ordinary life. Which sometimes entails speaking to other woman.”

  Alexander sat up in bed, rubbing at his tired eyes. “And if she loses her temper?”

  “Then put her in her place. Or is she the husband and you the wife?”

  Alexander swung his legs over the edge of the bed and started to dress. “It’s different with Lady Marianne. Because of our history.”

  “A history that Lady Eliza does not know of. And need never know of.”

  Alexander paused and looked up at his friend as that reminder sank in. He was right of course. Eliza knew nothing of the fair.

  “You see?” Julius pressed. “If you wish to befriend Lady Marianne, then do it in the open. Leaving your fiancé no reason to suspect that anything is amiss. Given that she knows nothing of your history, if she loses her temper you will know that it is unfounded.”

  “Is that not deceptive?” Alexander wondered, with a frown.

  “Not if you truly only mean to be Lady Marianne’s friend. Then you are merely behaving as any man would.”

  “Do you encourage my friendship with her? I thought you recommended distance.”

  Julius sighed. “I recommend whatever gets you out of bed, my friend.”

  ***

  Lady Marianne Purcell, Daughter of the Baron of Westlake

  In the following days, she and Lord Riversdale did not have any time alone together. And Marianne was grateful for that, because every time she was alone with him she felt like she was taken back to square one.

  “There will be no healing unless you are able to let him go,” Becky said to her one night, when the
y were alone.

  “I know you are right,” Marianne answered. “But I am not sure I know how to let him go. It would be easier if it was to another woman. If it were not Eliza.”

  Becky touched her hand and they did not say anything more. There was no point. They never reached a conclusion, no matter how much they discussed it. As time passed, they discussed it less and less. They saved their breaths for problems they could solve.

  “I wish he would not come,” Marianne said, one evening.

  “My Lady?”

  “I wish Eliza would go to his home, so that I did not have to see him every day. It is like he has come to torture me.”

  She spent most of her time in her bedroom, avoiding everyone as best she could. She wasn’t in a fit of weeping. Rather, she was awfully quiet and inward.

  After a few weeks, her father raised his concern with her.

  “You have been very quiet, my darling…” He murmured. He was frowning at her, with sincere worry.

  She tried to smile for him. “I’m okay, father.”

  “Are you certain of that?”

  Marianne nodded.

  But he did not let the matter rest, which was unusual for her father. He did not often push a subject. “Are you being honest with me Marianne?”

  She looked at him. He had such a soft face, with smile lines, despite his less than satisfactory marriage.

  Instead of answering his question, she asked one of her own. “Do you love mother?”

  He blinked at her. “A strange question to ask.”

  “I am only curious,” she assured him. “I wonder if you must have love to sustain a marriage.”

  He looked thoughtful, as if this hadn’t occurred to him before. She wondered if he ever knew if he loved his wife. Perhaps it truly didn’t matter.

  “A marriage can survive almost anything,” he said. “Provided it has the right incentive. Sometimes that incentive is children. Sometimes it is reputation. Sometimes it is only ease.”

  “So love isn’t necessary.” Her voice was a little less animated when she reached this conclusion.

  But her father shook her head. “Love isn’t necessary for a marriage,” he agreed. “But it is necessary for happiness.”

  Her brow puckered softly. “Then are you happy father?”

  “I have plenty of love in my life, Marianne.”

  “Then you love mother?” She pressed, once more.

  He only smiled at her. He stood, crossed the room and kissed her forehead. “I love you, Marianne. No one is so dear to me as you.”

  His hand was on her shoulder. She squeezed it and turned her face so that she could kiss his knuckles.

  “If you change your mind and want to speak of whatever it is you’re hiding from me, I am all ears.” He patted her shoulder and left the drawing room without another word. In his absence, she had tears in her eyes.

  She wanted to tell him the truth, but she was afraid. Afraid to give voice to what had been her secret for so long. And she couldn’t admit any of it in part. She’d have to admit it all. Bath. The Knight. Her feelings for him and how they came in peaks and troughs.

  Yes, peaks and troughs. Because her feelings for him weren’t consistent. Sometimes she looked at him and felt only pain. She missed her Knight. And this was not her Knight.

  Other times, all she could see was her Knight and Lord Redmond was gone from him. He was the man who’d kissed her and made her feel like she was precious. When she felt this, she held the necklace he’d given her in her palm and close her eyes.

  Marianne couldn’t tell her father the truth.

  She’d give too much of herself away if she did. And risking his disappointment was worse than maintaining her silence. So she swallowed the temptation to share the burden and returned to silence and solitude.

  Chapter 18

  Lady Marianne Purcell, Daughter of the Baron of Westlake

  Marianne was sitting in the library when Becky came to find her. It was just after sunset. She was waiting for Lord Redmond to leave so that she could go downstairs.

  “My Lady,” Becky said.

  “Yes, Becky?”

  “Your mother has asked for you.”

  Marianne expelled a breath and looked back over her shoulder at Becky. “For what reason?”

  “Lord Redmond suggested they play some parlor games and said that they shouldn’t’ play without you.”

  She frowned. “Would you tell them that I am not well?”

  Becky gave her a sympathetic and apologetic look. “Your mother does not seem in the mood to accept that, my Lady. She insisted that I bring you.”

  “To please the Marquess,” Marianne concluded.

  She put her book aside, shaking her head and allowed Becky to lead her downstairs. When they were halfway down the stairs, Becky stopped quite suddenly.

  Ahead of them, they could see Lord Blackwood entering the drawing room. He hadn’t seen them. “He’s here,” Becky said, in a dead voice.

  Marianne put her hand on Becky’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Are you frightened of him?”

  “Not in the least!” She scoffed, sounding almost offended. Marianne smiled and continued to the bottom of the stairs. Becky followed with obvious hesitancy. “He just irritates me.”

  Marianne did not believe that that was all there was between them. But in truth, she didn’t really understand Becky’s relationship with Lord Blackwood.

  They acted like foes, but Marianne was sure there was something else sizzling between them. Beneath the surface.

  She also didn’t know whether to encourage the relationship. Though Becky certainly felt something, no good would come of her pursuing whatever that something was.

  He was a Marquess. And she was a maid. And Marianne didn’t trust him to treat her kindly, or to choose her above station. Station would always come first for a man like that.

  Just as it did for Lord Redmond. Sometimes, when Marianne recalled how enamored he’d seemed with her at the fair, she wondered if he harbored feelings for her in return.

  And if that was true, was he choosing a gentleman’s agreement over their happiness?

  This train of thought always led to the same place. With her concluding that it was a ridiculous assumption. She’d seen Lord Redmond and Eliza together. She saw him laughing and smiling.

  He was smitten. Entirely smitten.

  There was no room in his heart for Marianne. And she resented him for constantly involving her. For talking to her, forcing her to participate in these games, making an effort to befriend her that simply wasn’t necessary.

  She joined them in the drawing room.

  Lord Redmond and Lord Blackwood stood to greet her. They bowed.

  “What are we playing?”

  “Bridge,” Lord Redmond said. He gestured for Marianne to sit in the seat to the left of him. Eliza sat on the right, flicking through her hand of cards.

  Without looking up from her cards, Eliza said, “You have been quite the hermit recently.”

  Marianne did not think this bothered her much. Eliza did not like to have Marianne around when her fiancé was present.

  That much was clear. “I have been reading,” Marianne answered. She sat and picked up the hand that had been dealt to her.

  “About fairies and goblins?”

  Marianne didn’t rise to the bait.

  As they played, she felt Lord Redmond looking at her from time to time, out of the corner of his eye. She wondered what he was thinking and - whatever it was - she wished he’d stop. They played a couple of games, with Eliza going on as she usually did.

  “I hear that the Duchess Whither of Grant loves bridge. Does your family know of the Whithers?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Lord Redmond responded, without looking up from his cards. Marianne wondered if he was tired of Eliza’s displays of materialism. Or if he didn’t care.

  Eliza looked disappointed. She tried to engage Lord Redmond in conversation many, many times. But
each time he was largely unresponsive.

  Bored, she turned to Lord Blackwood. He wasn’t playing bridge. He was just leaning back in his seat, drinking whiskey. Not looking particularly interested in the rest of them.