A Marquess' Forbidden Desire (Steamy Historical Regency)

by Lucinda Nelson

  He knew that he was playing with fire by arguing with his wife. She was a force to be reckoned with. But he wouldn’t sit here and listen to her berate his youngest daughter.

  “You are spineless, Norman Purcell.”

  She’d called him this before. But this time, he didn’t lower his head and continue his work. He stood, so suddenly that his chair fell back and slammed into the ground.

  “You are right,” he said, in a curt but steady voice. His wife was balking at him, like he was a stranger. “I have been spineless. But not anymore.”

  He walked directly past her and picked up his coat.

  “Where are you going?” She followed him to the door as she said this.

  “To see Marianne.”

  “To make things right?”

  He paused in the doorway and looked back at his wife. “To make things right,” he confirmed. Her relief was palpable. She had no idea.

  Norman called for his horse to be brought to him and shut the door behind him when he left, just as his wife expressed her intention to accompany him.

  He wasn’t having that.

  This was something he needed to do alone.

  ***

  Lady Marianne Purcell, Daughter of the Baron of Westlake

  Marianne was still reeling from what her sister had said. She sat on the steps leading up to Lilia’s estate, with Becky sitting beside her. Marianne had told her all.

  They didn’t say much. Only held hands.

  Becky had brought her out here because she’d needed the fresh air.

  When they saw a man come riding down the path, her heart jumped in her chest and she almost sprinted inside. She couldn’t see Alexander. Not now. But Becky squeezed her hand to make her stay, and Marianne saw that it wasn’t Alexander. It was her father.

  “I will go inside,” Becky said, with a soft smile. She released Marianne’s hand and left her alone with her father.

  The moment he dismounted, Marianne went to him and hugged him so tight that she heard the breath get knocked out of him. “I have missed you so,” he said, and embraced her with equal force.

  “You’ve come such a way,” she said, as she drew back to look at him. “Why have you come?”

  “There is something else I need you to know.”

  Her father put his hands on her shoulder. “I’ve kept something secret from you, my darling girl. It is a secret I’ve kept from everyone.”

  He cupped her cheek and smiled, a little sadly. “Your mother has never been kind to you, has she?”

  Marianne’s brow puckered. “Father… I thought this might be about Lord Redmond?”

  “No. This is about you and I. I want you to know the truth. Your mother has always favored Eliza. She’s made no secret of that.”

  Marianne didn’t understand. Though this was something she’d always known, she’d never heard it spoken aloud before. It hurt. “Father-”

  “Let me finish,” he said, as his thumb stroked across her cheek. “She has always favored Eliza because Eliza is her daughter.” He paused and drew her closer, so that he could kiss her temple. “But you are not, my love. You are not.”

  Marianne was silent. She put her cheek against her father’s chest, as he coaxed her to do, and stared at the lapel of his jacket.

  “There was someone else,” he said, more quietly now. “A girl from town. Just a farm girl… but I fell in love with her.”

  “Father…” she whispered.

  “I fell in love with her, but when your mother discovered us, she promised to ruin me if I didn’t let the girl go. I did it, against my better judgement perhaps. I didn’t know she was with child. Your mother – my wife – would have sooner died than be subject to such a scandal.”

  She could hear his heart. It was beating so fast beneath her hear. He held her tighter so she couldn’t look up at his face.

  “I refused to deny the child, so we agreed that my wife would pretend to be with child herself. She went to France for the duration of the girl’s pregnancy, so no one would know that the child wasn’t ours.”

  Marianne took a breath. The first breath she’d taken since he’d started to confess. Her cheeks were wet and her throat felt thick.

  “I don’t understand…” she whispered. “If this is true, what happened to her?”

  “I convinced my wife to take her on as a nurse,” he murmured, in a voice that suddenly sounded shaky. “But… but she didn’t survive the birth.”

  She felt something cool on her head. Her father was crying. Marianne drew back so that she could look him in the eye at last.

  “Then…”

  “Your mother isn’t your mother, Marianne. And your father is no better than an unfaithful liar.”

  “I was born out of wedlock,” she realized, with a puckered brow. It was all too much to process. Too much to stand. She stepped away from her father, shaking her head rapidly. “Eliza is only my half-sister. And you…”

  “I was in love,” he said, as he put his hand out towards her. But she stepped away from it so he couldn’t touch her and wrapped her arms around her midriff. “I was in love,” he said again. “Stuck in a marriage I’d never wanted. It’s no defense, but it’s the truth.”

  “The truth,” she echoed. She felt like she was in a daze. It swallowed her up.

  “Yes. A truth I’ve been trying to compensate for ever since. And a guilt that has kept me from ever reprimanding my wife for the way she’s treated you. I am sorry, Marianne. So very sorry.”

  “Why now?” She blurted. “Why tell me this now?”

  “Because I realized today that love is more important than duty, than expectation, than reputation. I realized today that a man’s word should be broken, if the alternative is misery.”

  Marianne looked up at him. It hit so close to home, and he didn’t even know it.

  “I never should have married her, Marianne,” he whispered, with a quivering smile. “I should have waited for that girl and married her instead. Titles be damned.”

  His tears came faster now and his words caught in his throat.

  “I would have spent what little time I could with her before she left this world. And kept her memory alive through you, instead of burying it as I did.”

  He put his aged hands to his face and wiped the tears away. It was such a terrible thing to watch and it shattered her daze. Marianne crossed the space between them and took his hands in hers.

  He gripped her and their watery gazes met.

  “I made mistakes,” he said, in a cracked voice.

  “We all make mistakes,” she whispered, as she wiped away his tears.

  Her father spent the afternoon with her. They both cried a lot during that time, but she was glad that he’d come. She was even glad of the truth, though it undid everything she knew of herself.

  Marianne didn’t tell him about Alexander. She didn’t want to burden his tender soul with any more pain, least of all on her behalf.

  But when he mounted his horse to leave, her father looked back at her. “There was one more thing I meant to ask, my love.”

  “Yes, father?”

  “Lord Redmond… you care for him, don’t you?”

  She tried to smile. Truly she did. But the effort just made her lips tremble. “Does it matter, father?”

  Lord Alexander Anthony Redmond, Marquess of Riversdale

  When Alexander arrived at the edge of town in Mayfair, where he and Lord Purcell had agreed to meet, there was no one there. He stood waiting for an hour, maybe more, until he felt certain that Lord Purcell wasn’t coming.

  It was peculiar. Alexander was sure they’d agreed on this time, and Lord Purcell had never even been late before. He considered going to the Purcell household, but he couldn’t risk bumping into Eliza and causing mayhem.

  He was stumped and unsure what to do. Eventually, he had to leave. It was a wasted trip to Mayfair, which disappointed him greatly, but he wasn’t angry at Lord Purcell. Only concerned.

  He had ev
ery intention of speaking to Marianne about it when he arrived at Lady Lilia’s the next morning, to see if she knew where her father might have gone.

  But when he got to the house, Marianne wasn’t waiting for him in the foyer as she usually was. Becky and Lady Lilia were there instead, regarding him with steady eyes.

  Neither of them greeted him.

  “Is Marianne in the library?” He wondered.

  “That isn’t really your concern,” Lady Lilia said.

  Alexander blinked rapidly. “Pardon?”

  “She doesn’t want to see you,” Becky said. Though her face was stern, Alexander could see that she was upset. His concern mounted.

  “Has something happened? Is she okay?”

  “We know, Lord Redmond,” Becky said.

  “What you have done is truly abysmal.”

  Alexander tried to move past them, but they wouldn’t let him. They each took a step to block his path. “What the devil is going on?”

  “Eliza came yesterday,” Lady Lilia said. “Your fiancée.”

  He almost blurted out that she wasn’t his fiancée anymore, but just about held his tongue. “Let me speak to Marianne.”

  “How could you do it, my Lord?” Becky said, as her sternness began to waver. She had a suddenly desperate expression, as if she was trying to understand something alien to her.

  “How could you do such a thing? We thought you cared for her. But to tell her that the marriage is called off… to give her hope like that. And leave her to find out from her sister, of all people. That is the most uncaring thing I’ve ever known a person to do.”

  Alexander’s eyes widened and his lips slackened open. “What? Is that what Eliza said? That the marriage hasn’t been called off?”

  “You have played enough games with the women in this house, my Lord. We will not hear anything more from you. Please leave,” Lady Lilia replied.

  Slack-jawed, Alexander tried once more to climb the stairs. Again, they blocked his path, with expressions like ice. “Please leave,” Lady Lilia said again.

  “She was lying,” Alexander blurted. “I called it off.”

  “Did you?” Becky pressed. “Then why did Eliza purchase her wedding dress just two days ago, with the bill paid by your father?”

  When Alexander parted his lips to speak, he had nothing to say. He simply stared at Lilia and Becky as the truth came to him.

  His father hadn’t called it off.

  And Marianne… Marianne thought he’d used her.

  They didn’t have to ask him to leave again. He did so in a hurry, and in a white hot rage.

  ***

  Lord Norman Purcell, Duke of Westlake

  Norman had asked Marianne if she cared for Lord Redmond. And her answer had spoken louder than any confession of love.

  As he left Lady Lilia’s estate, feeling lighter than he ever had, he realized that there was one more thing he needed to do.

  Norman rode to the Riversdale estate and met with Alexander’s parents in their drawing room. Their expressions were grim.

  “I am sorry, my Lord, but my son is not here,” the Duke, Alexander’s father, said. “If you have come to express your displeasure that Alexander has not been visiting, you may rest assured that I am rectifying the matter. He has been busy with work. That is all.”

  The Duke of Riversdale had such a formidable and serious countenance that Norman almost believed him. Of course, the Duke had no idea that Norman knew exactly where Alexander had been. With Marianne.

  “I have not come to express my displeasure,” Norman said. “I have come to make a proposal.”

  Alexander’s mother, the Duchess, was sat by the window with her forehead resting on her hand. She looked awfully pale.

  “Perhaps we could discuss this at a later date?” the Duke said.

  But then his wife lifted her head and looked across the room at Norman. “What is your proposal, my Lord?” She asked, weakly.

  Her interruption clearly displeased the Duke, but he didn’t reprimand her for it. The poor woman did not look well. She looked like she’d been crying.

  “I have come to propose that my daughter marry your son,” Norman said. As he spoke, he regarded both the Duke and Duchess with a steady eye.

  The Duke frowned. “Have we not already come to such an agreement?”

  Norman frowned. He’d come in such a hurry and spoken with such haste that he hadn’t considered how he might be understood. “No,” he said, rather suddenly. “Not Eliza. I propose that your son marries my youngest daughter. The Lady Marianne.”

  “Excuse me?” The Duke said, as though he’d misheard. He looked caught off guard, but his wife did not. Norman watched as she burst into tears and ran across the room towards Norman.

  She threw her arms around him, to her husband and Norman’s utter shock. “Thank you, my Lord. Oh, this is wonderful.”

  Norman blinked down at her. He’d never been embraced by a Duchess before. Over her shoulder, he could see that her husband looked extremely uncomfortable. “I did not expect such a reception…” Norman admitted.

  “Go on, Lord Purcell,” the Duke said.

  The Duchess squeezed him once more before stepping back, still smiling.

  “I believe that your son is in love with my youngest daughter, Marianne,” Norman explained. “And that his character is poorly suited to Eliza’s. If you agree to allow your son to marry Marianne, I will find another husband for Eliza. I believe that this will make everyone far happy.”

  The Duchess looked to her husband with a hopeful expression, but the Duke didn’t speak for a moment. “You do not look surprised,” Norman realized, as he looked between them. “Has Alexander expressed an interest in Marianne to you?”

  The Duke nodded with a somber look. “And a disinterest in your eldest daughter, I am afraid.” The Duke took a breath. “I have not been honest with you, my Lord. My son called off the marriage a week ago. I insisted on dealing with it myself but… but I have neglected to do so.”

  It took a moment for this to sink in. “I see,” Norman said, with a nod. “Then this makes our decision easier. If Alexander has already refused Eliza, this proposal is much needed.”

  “But Lord Purcell, I cannot imagine that Lady Eliza will take well to this.”

  Norman sighed softly and shook his head. “That is my concern.”

  In the following hour, they devised a plan that would allow Eliza to leave with her dignity intact, without Alexander having to marry her.

  By the time Norman took his leave, he had shaken hands with the Duke and bid him and his wife a good day. When he stepped outside, the sun was beaming down on him.

  He smiled up at the sky and felt strong for the first time in many years.

  Epilogue

  Lord Alexander Anthony Redmond, Marquess of Riversdale

  Alexander had ridden home in a rage, to hear what his father had done from his own mouth.

  But when he arrived and demanded to know whether his father had spoken to the Purcell family, his father seemed utterly calm.

  “Take a walk with me,” his father said.

  Alexander declined at first. He was not in the mood to speak calmly. His hands were shaking by his sides and he was barely containing his fury.

  But his father pressed and Alexander conceded, without relinquishing the hot pulse of his anger. But on that walk, before Alexander could unleash his scorn, his father said, “I want you to be happy, Alexander.”

  Alexander stopped walking and stared at his father with a deep frown.

  “Just like that?” He’d said. “After what you’ve done? You did not care for my happiness when last I came.”

  His father’s face had suddenly looked sunken. “Alexander,” he said, in a softer voice. “I have always cared about your happiness.

  Whether or not I have shown it. I have only wanted what’s best for you. Perhaps… perhaps sometimes I have misjudged what that might be.”

  Alexander’s chest tightened an
d he felt his anger rise again, having been momentarily suffocated by shock. “You didn’t call off the marriage, did you?”

  “I did not.”

  “Why? Do you have any idea what you have done?”

  “I hoped that you would change your mind about the eldest Purcell girl,” he admitted. “I made a mistake.”