Married To A Marquess (Hearts And Ever Afters Book 2)

by Joyce Alec

  “He will not do such a thing, particularly not after three years of marriage,” Madeline refuted calmly. “You need not fear such a disgrace, Alice, although I am sorry for the way he has treated you — both in the country and here in London.”

  “Do not be.” Alice forced a cheerful expression, trying to smile at her friend. “This will all fall on his own head. He is doing nothing other than causing his own downfall.” A slight twist caught her by surprise as the image of his horrified expression came to mind.

  “You look a little discomfited by the idea,” Madeline murmured quietly. “Are you all right?”

  Alice drew in a deep breath, settling her shoulders. “Yes, I am well. It is just the game I am playing, Madeline. At times, it grows wearisome.”

  “I can understand that,” Madeline answered, her eyes smiling at Alice. “But it will all come to fruition, I am sure. Your husband will learn not to treat you in such a poor way again. This will be the biggest lesson of his life.”

  Hoping that what Madeline said was true, Alice drank the rest of her tea quietly, her mind working over the next stage in her plan. When and how she would reveal herself was yet to be established, although there was a large party soon at Vauxhall, one of the highlights of the social season. Perhaps there, she might reveal the truth to Lord Worthington? News would spread quickly until almost all of London would know of his treatment of her. In fact, Alice was sure it would be in society papers come the very next morning.

  “You are looking a little more satisfied,” Madeline commented shrewdly. “Your plan is taking shape, then?”

  “It is,” Alice confirmed and began to sketch out the details for her friend. Unfortunately, she was interrupted by a quiet knock on the door.

  Madeline, frowning, took the calling card from the butler, muttering something about not having any arranged visits today. Alice refilled her tea cup, watching her friend out of the corner of her eye. Madeline’s eyes widened slightly as she read the card, sending a worried glance towards Alice.

  “What is it?”

  Madeline handed the card back to the butler, her lips thin. “Apparently, Lord Worthington is here.”

  Alice’s mouth fell open. “Here?” Her heart slammed into her chest, her eyes staring at the calling card in the butler’s hand as though she didn’t quite believe the name written there.

  “He has obviously sought you out,” Madeline said, quietly. “You have refused to tell him anything about yourself other than your name, but your friendship with me could not be hidden. Apparently, he has come calling in the hope that you are here.”

  “Then I must go,” Alice said at once, getting to her feet. “He must not see me.”

  She could not bear the thought of seeing her husband again, not so soon after last evening. He would be all politeness, with the occasional flirtatious comment as he looked at her with those brown eyes of his that seemed to be filled with warmth every time he let himself linger on her countenance. Alice did not think she could bear it.

  “He is just outside the door, my lady,” the butler murmured, looking askance. “He refused to wait in the hallway.”

  Alice was forced to sink back down into her chair, relieved that, at least, the heavy wooden doors had kept her words from reaching Lord Worthington’s ears.

  “Apparently, I am not to escape him,” she muttered, trying not to panic. “What a wretched man he is.”

  “I agree,” Madeline said, calmly. “Are you sure about this, Alice? I can send him away.”

  Alice shook her head. “No, you cannot, and I know that as well as you. To refuse him entry would only cause all kinds of talk.”

  “I can plead a headache.”

  Closing her eyes briefly, Alice lifted her chin and set her shoulders. “Pray, do not lie on my account. I can manage, Madeline, I promise you.”

  Her friend studied her for one more moment before nodding. “Then you had best let him in,” Madeline said to the butler, once Alice had rearranged her skirts. “We will be brief, Alice. I promise you that.”

  The moment Lord Worthington walked in, Alice’s stomach began to churn. She did not want to see him, but he had forced himself into her presence, as he had done so already on previous occasions. He was becoming a somewhat overbearing presence, and her struggles with her own feelings only added to her difficulty. Still, she was forced, only by good manners and expectation, to rise and curtsy to him, allowing him to kiss her hand, where his lips lingered a moment too long.

  She tugged her hand away almost at once, her skin heating as she sat back down, feeling as though she had been doused in flames. Not only was his gesture entirely inappropriate, but it spoke of an affection that he should not have for her, not when she was Lady Emma and certainly not after their discussion last evening. It should not come as a surprise to her that he continued to refuse to accept her dislike of him, apparently certain that he could work his way into her good graces as she was sure he had done with many a lady before her. A ball of frustration pushed itself into her heart as Madeline began a polite conversation.

  “Let me ring the bell for tea,” Alice murmured, excusing herself and walking to the other side of the room to ring the bell.

  They needed a fresh tray, of course, but she herself was desperate for a few minutes to calm herself, thinking she might either scream at him or burst into hot, furious tears, such was her anger. The imprint of his lips upon her hand burned still, reminding her of his pressing affections only a few days earlier.

  How dare he do such a thing, when she had made it more than clear that she did not want any of his flirtations bestowed on her? It seemed that her husband was dogged in his own desires and goals, refusing to accede defeat and accept her refusal to become any more acquainted with him.

  What he did not know was that she was aware that he was a married gentleman and, as such, should not be pursuing any lady of his acquaintance. Up until this point, she had believed what Madeline had said about Lord Worthington, that he flirted terribly but had not taken a mistress. Could she really continue to believe that now when she had received such attentions?

  Wandering to the window, and uncaring about how rude she must be appearing, Alice looked out across the streets of London, trying her best to calm her frantically beating heart. Turning her back towards her husband and Madeline, Alice closed her eyes and concentrated on calming the boiling anger in her veins.

  Slowly, she managed to regain some control, her fists slowly beginning to uncurl as she took in long, slow breaths.

  You are not the same girl he married, she reminded herself. You are not under his control. Do not allow his behavior to affect you in such a way.

  “You are quiet this afternoon,” said a voice in her ear, making her jump.

  “Lord Worthington,” she murmured, turning to face him but taking a small step backward so that he was not standing too close. “How are you today?” She kept her tone cool, and no smile lingered on her lips.

  Behind him, she saw Madeline shake her head, her eyes full of apology. Alice was sure her friend had tried her best to keep Lord Worthington from interrupting Alice’s solitude, but had apparently failed. That did not come as a surprise to Alice, well aware that her husband was not easily put off from his intentions.

  “All the better for seeing you,” he replied, giving her a jaunty smile which quickly began to fade when she did not immediately respond. “Are you unwell?”

  “No,” Alice replied, immediately. “I am just not interested in your flirtations, Lord Worthington, as I have stated more than once.”

  “Ah.” He glanced away, looking slightly repentant. “I see. You are right. I should not have done such a thing.”

  “No,” Alice confirmed, thinking that he was either talking of this afternoon’s improper greeting or the previous evening’s attempt. “You should not be taking such liberties with me when I have made it more than plain that I do not want them.”

  “I confess I was just overwhelmed with seeing you aga
in,” he said, quickly, still smiling at her. “Despite everything, you are still something of a mystery and one that I am inclined to solve. You have not told me anything about yourself other than your name, so I was forced to observe you. I saw your friendship with Lady Astor, and was told you are a distant cousin. I had to hope that you might be visiting her with some regularity. How fortunate that I should find you here.”

  Turning to face him more directly, Alice kept her face firm and ignored the sparkle in his eyes. Clearly, he still believed that she was going to change in her demeanor towards him at any moment were he charming enough. When would the man learn?

  “Lady Astor has become something of a firm friend, my lord,” she said, searching his face for any sign of anxiety. “And she has told me a great deal about you.”

  “Is that so?” he replied, throwing a quick glance back towards Madeline. “But I thought you already knew me well.”

  Alice spat out a harsh laugh. “Indeed, my lord, but she is able to tell me of all the rumors that follow you wherever you go and, as yet, I have not decided which ones I will believe.” She watched him closely and saw him shift a little as though growing slightly uncomfortable. “In addition, my lord, I should think it more than evident that I do not need her advice to tell me that I should keep myself from becoming a close acquaintance with you. From your past behaviors, your refusal to respect my wishes, and your insistence on chasing me when I do not wish to even speak to you, it is plain that you are not a man whom I would consider honorable in any sense.”

  The look on his face told her that her words had cut deeply, although there was a faint line of anger around his mouth. “I see,” he said, crisply. “You have outdone yourself this time, Lady Emma. Your bluntness does you credit. You are quite right. I am not an honorable man.”

  Alice lifted her chin, refusing to back down or apologize for her words. “Then why are you so insistent on forcing me to accept you?”

  His jaw tightened. “You are a challenge, Lady Emma, even now.”

  “Ask yourself, Lord Worthington, why any lady of sense would wish to spend time in your company?” she stated, her voice growing louder. “I have heard the rumors and do not know what to believe, and I have seen your behavior, in very close quarters I might add, and have observed that you are not a man of principle.” Her eyes flashed. “And I do not care to spend time in the company of such a gentleman.”

  “But a man can change, can he not?” he continued, a little more quietly although his eyes remained sharp. “I swore to you that I did not steal kisses from any lady, nor take on a mistress. That is not the kind of man I am.”

  Alice rolled her eyes, unable to stop herself. “Yet, you seemed as if you were going to kiss me if I had not stopped it, which means that I have no reason to believe any of your words.”

  “I was not going to kiss you,” he said tight-lipped, his eyes flashing with a fierce anger. “I have my own reasons not to kiss you. Never before have I done such a thing, although I have been offered that — and more — a great many times. I had to prove to you that you were not as disinclined to me as you thought.”

  “And since you have achieved that goal,” Alice asked, feeling heat creep into her face, “why do you insist on chasing after me? Surely, you are not seeking marriage.”

  He bit his lip and, to her surprise, paused and stared out of the window, taking his gaze from her. Silence bloomed between them until all that Alice could hear was the thumping of her heart. She saw that Madeline had exited the room, although she did not know when her friend had left. Apparently, Madeline had thought it best to give them the space to talk, although the door remained ajar.

  Lord Worthington took a deep breath, placed his hands behind his back, and turned back to face her. “You have asked a question I am not sure I can answer, my lady,” he said, quietly. “You are correct; I am not seeking marriage or even a courtship. The only thing I can say is that you have captured my attention in a way that I have never experienced before.”

  “That is something I cannot believe,” Alice replied, at once. She tilted her head and regarded him carefully. “Is it your ego that forces you to continue with such actions? Do you enjoy the other women’s smiles and fluttering of their lashes so much that you simply cannot help yourself?”

  Lord Worthington stared at her as though she had suddenly grown a second head, only to frown heavily. “I had not considered that,” he muttered, running one hand through his hair and roughing it up entirely. “You are unsettling me greatly, my lady, I must confess.”

  Alice’s angry reply died in her throat as she saw, to her surprise, that her husband appeared truly discomfited by what she laid at his feet. Was he sincere? Could he truly be struggling with the questions she had put to him?

  “It is true that I enjoy a lady’s attentions, but I cannot see that as a bad thing, Lady Emma. A gentleman always enjoys the attentions of a lady.” He looked at her earnestly, as though waiting for her to confirm that he was not in the wrong.

  Thinking for a few seconds, Alice gave him her reply. “A true gentleman seeks out the attentions of perhaps one particular lady,” she said, firmly. “With hopes to wed, mayhap. They look to the future and think calmly and clearly about what lies ahead instead of losing themselves in current enjoyments and their own pleasures.” She tossed her head and turned to look out of the window, unable to keep her gaze on him any longer as the pain of knowing what her husband had done grew. “That is an honorable gentleman, my lord, and he is removed from you.”

  For a few minutes, there was complete silence, which grew with both tension and gravitas as the seconds ticked by. Alice’s heart began to thunder in her chest once more as her husband neither spoke nor moved.

  “You must excuse me,” Lord Worthington said, eventually, sounding broken. “You have given me much to think on, Lady Emma.”

  Alice did not speak, did not even turn to wish him farewell. Instead, she listened to his footsteps as they walked towards the door, waiting until the door closed firmly behind him before dissolving into tears.

  Chapter Nine

  Madeline ensured that she kept Alice’s arm looped through hers as they made their way into the ballroom, having been invited to Lord and Lady Benson’s ball. It was, by all accounts, one of the highlights of the season, but Alice barely noticed any of the decorations or enchanting small touches that highlighted the room. She was far too anxious.

  Ever since their heated discussion some days ago, Alice had not seen Lord Worthington again. It should not matter to her, of course, but she realized that she had wounded him with her words, even if they were the truth.

  Madeline had asked her repeatedly why she was so concerned over his absence from society, but Alice had been unable to give a truthful answer. She had told Madeline that she was worried that her husband would return to his country estate, where she was meant to be, only to discover her absent – but that was not the truth at all.

  She simply could not get the look on his face from her mind. It haunted her. It told her that she had done him damage, had caused him pain. One part of her tried to be satisfied with that, tried to remind her what pain he had caused her, but the other part told her that she should not have been so cruel.

  Why do I care? Alice asked herself over and over. It is not as though I owe him anything.

  Her dance card was filled almost at once, but, to her surprise, Lord Worthington did not appear. This was now the fourth event he had been absent from. She had attended something every evening since she had spoken to him, but had not seen him since. It was most unusual.

  For the most part, Alice enjoyed the evening, allowing herself to take part in the dancing and conversation. It was only when another gentleman commented on Lord Worthington’s absence that her heart sank in her chest.

  “Quite strange for him to miss out on such occasions,” said one gentleman, thoughtfully. “In fact, I cannot remember him absenting himself from such things ever before. At least not in the last
few years.”

  Alice stopped herself from asking any questions and kept her smile fixed.

  “Mayhap he is ill,” said the other gentleman, shrugging slightly. “Now, my dear Lady Emma. I believe it is our turn on the dance floor.”

  Smiling, Alice took his arm and began the dance, trying her best to push Lord Worthington from her mind, but finding she could not.

  Was his absence her doing? Had she really pushed him to consider his own behavior, given that she had called him dishonorable? Then surely, that was a good thing, was it not? So then, she should not be worrying about him.

  However, no matter how hard she tried, Alice found that she could not remove him from her mind. As the night wore on, Alice found herself growing weary, tired of trying to stop her thoughts. As she had brought her own carriage, Alice made her farewells to Madeline before moving to thank the hosts for their generosity in inviting her.

  “Oh, Lady Emma!” Lady Benson exclaimed as she began to walk away. “I forgot. One of the footmen has a note for you.”

  Alice frowned. “A note?”

  “Yes, I believe it arrived earlier this evening, but as you could not be found in the crush of guests, I instructed the footman to hold it for you.” Lady Benson walked with Alice towards the entrance of the house, gesturing to one of the footmen who produced a silver tray with a note held on it.

  “A mysterious note, to be sure,” Lady Benson chuckled, curiosity written all over her face. “Who is it from?”

  Holding the letter in her hand, Alice glanced down at the seal, her heart turning over. “I am not sure,” she lied, not wanting to give the older lady gossip fodder. “Excuse me, please, and thank you for a wonderful evening.”

  Lady Benson looked more than a little disappointed not to discover who the letter was from, but managed a graceful curtsy before walking back in towards the ballroom.

  Alice mounted the carriage steps and sat back against the squabs, the letter practically burning through her glove and searing her fingers. Her husband’s seal was unmistakable, given that she used the same one herself on her own correspondence. Why had he written to her and delivered it to Lady Benson’s house? Could he be aware of her true identity?