by Stacy Reid
Unexpectedly, she laughed and dropped back into the mound of pillows and cushion, releasing a gusty breath. “I must be going mad,” she breathed.
Something wicked this way comes. Be with ruin or banishment once it knocks on my door, dare I answer?
“What am I to do about the truth of liking you?” And she did like him very much. Who are you, Nicolas St. Ives, and why do I so desperately want to see you…to kiss you, to just hold you to me in a hug? The memory of how a powerful man like the marquess had trembled in her embrace had warmth spreading through her body.
With a huff, she hurriedly rang for Susie to return and quickly performed her morning ablutions. Several minutes later, Maryann felt presentably dressed in a light green high-waisted day gown and her hair caught in an artful chignon. She made her way down the winding staircase of their elegant town house.
First, she would meet with her friends, and then respond to her correspondence, and pen a letter to Kitty. Though she would not receive it right away, for Kitty’s last letter said she had gone on a long honeymoon with her duke to places she always wanted to travel. A wistful ache of longing went through Maryann again, to be so in love and also free.
Maryann entered the room to see her friends sitting close together on the sofa, chatting and taking tea. A rush of affection filled Maryann on seeing Ophelia and Fanny, two more members of their sinful wallflowers’ club. It always astonished her that they, too, were seen as outcasts by those in society, and for such silly and insupportable reasons. Fanny was extraordinarily pretty and a talented painter, but her connections were poor and were even deemed an embarrassment. Worse, a nobleman (Maryann couldn’t bear to call him a gentleman) Fanny had fancied herself in love with had jilted her a few days before their wedding and it was her the ton had judged for his misconduct.
Ophelia was quite different than the rest of their merry band, for she could marry should she wish it. She owned both wealth and beauty but refused to marry, which her father scandalously indulged. Ophelia was a striking lady by any standards, yet the sharp cheekbones and generous lips, and blackest of hair wouldn’t have the ton call her beautiful. Words they often used in her presence were arresting, handsome. And, unpardonably, wallflower.
It was Ophelia who glanced up and saw her hovering in the threshold.
Her golden eyes lit with welcome, and she smiled broadly. “Maryann, you’ve had us waiting an age!”
With a laugh, she sauntered inside and closed the door. “We have so much to catch up on.”
“You seem to be faring well after your twice brush with scandal,” Fanny said with a sniff but with a very decided twinkle in her eyes. “To have danced so publicly with Lord Rothbury! How are you still in town and not banished to Hertfordshire for the rest of the year?”
“Because despite my efforts, Lord Stamford has not withdrawn his pursuit.”
“Your mother visited mine a few days ago,” Ophelia said with a frown. “To garner her support in squashing the rumors.”
“I suspected it would have been harder than anticipated,” Maryann said. “But Stamford’s persistence in the face of the rumors is very surprising to me. You recall last season when Viscount Avedon canceled his betrothal to Lady Jane because a rumor started that she was seen in Hyde Park walking without a lady maid or chaperone?”
Ophelia nodded. “Yes. Lord Stamford is not behaving in the predicted manner like most gentlemen, is he?”
“What will you do?” Fanny asked fretfully. “Lord Stamford seems determined to possess you. I cannot tell if it is flattering or frightening.”
It was frightening and infuriating. “My father gave me a few more weeks of freedom before the announcement. Mother seems determined to ignore that. I am thinking I shall leave for Paris or Italy before I tie myself to a man I do not want.”
“Maryann!” Fanny cried, significantly alarmed. “Pray do not speak such nonsense as to alarm us. Kitty, Caroline, Ophelia, Emma, and I would be most anguished should you run away from England without any companion or money. Your very life would be in danger; the scandal of a single lady traveling alone would be…” Fanny blew out a sharp breath. “I am aghast you should even say it.”
“It seems ridiculous that in an age of civilization, a lady has to so constrain her desires to please gentlemen who do nothing to temper themselves,” Ophelia retorted. “Because they are the ones who set these ridiculous rules. Why can’t Maryann travel alone should she wish it?”
Maryann knew that would be an even bigger scandal than kissing the marquess in public. Traveling alone would signal that she was free with her charms and not a respectable young lady at all. She perched on the armchair of one of the sofas and considered the admission she was about to make to her friends.
Ophelia’s eyes narrowed. “Out with it, you are fairly bursting at the seams!”
“I am not terribly certain of the rules governing affairs, but I am thinking about having one.”
The teacup on the way to Fanny’s mouth froze. “Having one of what?”
Ophelia gave a perceptible start. “What kind of affair?” she breathed.
Maryann tilted her head to one side, considering the point. “There are many kinds?”
“An affaire de coeur?” Ophelia asked.
It was so daring, it frightened her. “Yes.”
Fanny’s cup clattered onto the table. “With the marquess?”
“Which one?” Maryann asked with a spurt of devilry. “If you are thinking Lord Rothbury, the very one.”
Fanny looked ready to faint, then she rallied and said, “Reformed rakes do make the best husbands. I have no notion who started that nonsense, but it is that very belief why so many ladies would still marry him despite his dissipated lifestyle.”
“But that is it, Fanny, I do not think he was ever a rake. He has layers to him the world has never seen. There is more to him than his reputation. I am certain of it and I am so very intrigued by him.”
“Oh dear,” Fanny cried, properly alarmed. “You have fallen under his spell and have been deceived of his true nature. You are so very sensible, Maryann, so why have you deserted your senses?”
She laughed. “I am acting no less naughty than Kitty! She went off to Scotland to be with His Grace unchaperoned! I daresay the days she spent there were not steeped in innocence but perhaps in debauchery.”
Fanny blushed fiercely, while Ophelia chuckled, handing Maryann a cup of tea.
“You are distressing Fanny’s sensibilities.”
Their friend sniffed, but amusement glinted in her warm light-blue eyes. “Stop acting as if you are more worldly than I am. I have been kissed twice!”
Maryann choked on the first sip of her tea. “When? And with who? I thought we shared everything?”
“Ladies,” Ophelia called, laughing, “we are digressing.” She inhaled gently, and the somber expression in her eyes had Maryann frowning.
“What is it?”
“You mentioned Kitty…do you hope the outcome with Lord Rothbury the same Kitty experienced with her duke? That you might form an attachment and eventually marry?”
The hunger that clawed up inside of Maryann shocked her, and the hand that lowered the teacup trembled. All the longings she had thought buried under disillusion surged into her heart with the ferocity of a battering storm.
“I am being fanciful and reckless,” she gasped, hating that tears pricked in her eyes.
She was not a silly miss to descend into tears and vapors at the slightest provocation. “He has not even kissed me…and here I am speaking about affairs and whatnot! I feel foolish.”
Fanny came over and tugged Maryann to sit beside her. “It is not foolish to dream, Maryann. You have told me this so many times.”
“I feel tossed about on churning waves, uncertain of any direction in life. Fanny, you are the most incredibly talented painter and you h
ave a grand ambition to be known for it one day. Ophelia, you have a hidden identity, an entirely different life, and I can tell you know what wicked path you’ll be pursing. Sometimes I feel that what I want cannot be known to me!”
“What about a family?” Fanny asked wistfully, painful longing in her eyes. “Your own home to manage and not to live by the whims of others who control how you eat and the clothes you wear.”
A silence that felt heavy lingered.
Then Maryann said quietly, “I do want a family…children, a husband who I will love.” The ache in her chest became a physical thing, and there was no ease in its tightening grip. “I want my husband to love me breathlessly. I want him to take me sailing, and he won’t mind that I am exceptionally good at fencing, that I can ride astride and might best him in archery. I want a man who wants to hear my opinions on political matters as well as the latest gossip! I want a man who challenges me but allows me to challenge him right back. Maybe even a husband who would take me to a gambling den! I do not want a piece of what I hope for…I want it all,” she ended with a groan, covering her face. “And maybe, just maybe I could have it with the marquess, because I have never met anyone who rouses me so.”
Emerging from that shattering awareness, she lowered her hands and stood.
“All of that with a rake?” Fanny asked skeptically.
“Yes, with a rake,” Maryann whispered. “A supposed libertine and the wickedest of them all.”
But also, so much more.
“Who has vowed never to marry,” Ophelia contributed.
“That very one,” Maryann said, folding her arms beneath her breasts, and started pacing.
“It might be easier to get a pig to fly than a man not so puffed up with vanity that he would allow all that,” Fanny said with a heavy sigh.
“The truth of it is, sometimes I do not know if I want to marry any man. The independence I have now is limited, but I relish having it, and the more advanced I get in age, the more freedom I will attain. If my father has shown me anything, it is that once I am a wife, I am not expected to have my own sense of thought, everything will be controlled by my husband and dare I protest, I will be scolded most severely!”
“But?” the always astute Fanny asked archly.
Everything inside her went soft, and achy with need. “For the right gentleman, I would happily relinquish my independence—for he would not cage me, would he? He would want to see me fly. And if I should overreach in my recklessness, the right man would catch me.”
The memory of falling from the trellis into the marquess’s arms flowered through her, and she bit into the soft of her lips to prevent the smile hovering in her heart. “I do not want a husband who will allow…but one who will share and experience with me.”
Fanny wrinkled her brow thoughtfully. “You were the one who encouraged us all to stop giving a damn about what is expected of us and for once reach for what we want! So, seduce the marquess into falling in love with you.”
“Fanny,” Ophelia gasped, her eyes twinkling. “How rakish!”
Her friends laughed, pulling a smile to Maryann’s lips. “The prospect is alluring, but also ridiculous. What do any of us know about seduction? And I am not consulting with Princess Cosima as Kitty did.” Unless…
“Would he be open to your wiles?” Ophelia asked, arching a brow.
Maryann snorted, quite unladylike. “What wiles? Should I possess any, I do not know it!”
“He has not tried to steal any kisses from you,” Fanny said, tapping her chin with a finger. “The first step is to determine if he is attracted to you.”
“I was wicked with him last night in a manner I can never describe,” she confessed in a rush. “I daresay he is very attracted. He just has not kissed my mouth as yet.”
Ophelia made a choking sound and Fanny froze, her eyes rounding.
Oh dear.
Ophelia stood, fisting a hand on her voluptuous hip. “What do you mean—”
The door opened and her mother sailed inside, her eyes bright and determined. Fanny and Ophelia curtsied and greeted the countess.
“I must ask you ladies to cut this visit short. Maryann has a caller who wishes for an audience.”
Her heart leaped. “A caller?”
“Lord Stamford. He awaits you in the drawing room.”
A shock went through her. “I am to meet with him alone?”
“Perfectly permissible between an affianced pair,” her mother said coolly, looking down her nose at Maryann. “The door has been left discreetly ajar. Hurry now, and do not keep the earl waiting.”
“We are not affianced,” she said, repeating it once more. “There has been no announcement, and Papa has promised me to wait.” But you sense he has been prevaricating, a small voice reminded her.
Her friends were ushered out, and Maryann plodded from the small sitting room, down the hallway to the waiting earl. She recalled Nicolas’s warning to be careful around the earl, then frowned, for the man was acting in a respectable manner in coming to her home. The rumors had not deterred him in any fashion.
“Mama,” she said, “I would ask that you stay in the drawing room with us. I am not comfortable with Lord Stamford.”
Her mother made no reply as they reached the drawing room, allowing Maryann to precede her inside. The earl turned from the windows, and Maryann was once again taken aback by his youthful handsomeness. He came over, the look in his eyes mild and oddly warm.
She dipped into a small curtsy. “Lord Stamford.”
He bowed slightly and without taking his gaze from her said, “Lady Musgrove, I bid you to allow me a few minutes alone with your lovely daughter. The proper courtesies will be upheld.”
Her mother smiled radiantly and left the room without a by-your-leave glance at her daughter. Maryann supposed she could be grateful the door was left ajar. The heavy press of her heart was unbearable. Her wishes simply did not matter.
The earl waited a few beats, and when his gaze leveled on her, she took an involuntary step back. There was a hardness about his mouth and the lines of his eyes which bespoke his displeasure.
“Last night, why did you depart so suddenly from Lady Vidal’s ball?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I will only ask this once, and your reply will be honest, Lady Maryann. I saw you leave the conservatory in a manner I deemed suspicious. You will name the bounder you were with.”
“Sir, you go too far! You have no right to question or make demands of me,” she breathed, truly shocked at the man’s audacity. “Your behavior is not advancing you in my graces.”
His eyes went so cold, she took another step back. Not liking the discomfort curling through her, she whirled around and hurried to the door. Maryann gasped when a hand reached around her and closed it. She hadn’t heard his movements. Ducking underneath his arm, she made her way toward the windows.
“You are acting very improperly, my lord. Are you fully aware that we are under my parents’ roof?”
His hands snaked out and grabbed her, halting her retreat. His hold felt like she was bound in iron. She tried to withdraw her hand and he twisted his clasp. Maryann cried out as pain burned down her arms. She faltered, staring up at him in ill-concealed shock.
“It is best you understand now what I will not tolerate from you,” he said calmly.
“You are hurting me,” she choked out, noting her hands grew numb in his relentless clasp.
“I know,” he said dispassionately.
“You are reprehensible,” she said. “You will release me at once.”
“Do not act the fragile flower,” he replied bitingly. “What were you doing with Lord Rothbury in Lady Vidal’s conservatory last night?”
Dear God! Had he seen their interlude? She closed her eyes, thrusting aside the panic. Of course he had not seen, or he would not
be asking. “You may be certain my father will hear of this.”
He chuckled. “Your father owes me thirty thousand pounds, Lady Maryann. I am sure it was understood with perfect clarity to be a part of your bride price.”
Her throat felt thick, and there was a tightness across her chest that made it difficult to breathe. She hadn’t known her family suffered any financial hardship.
Just then, the door sprang open and her mother framed the doorway. She glanced away as if she had interrupted a tender moment, a small smile about her mouth. The earl released her arms and stepped back slowly.
“I would be very remiss in my duties if I allowed this door to remain closed another minute,” Lady Musgrove said lightly. “I should perceive no reason Maryann would not happily take an outing with you to Hyde Park later in the week. One can only hope this dreadfully disobliging rain will cease soon.”
She glanced from her mother to the self-satisfied air about the earl. He had given her father thirty thousand pounds. It hurt, somewhere deep inside, that her family sought to use her but had not confided in her their circumstances. She remained silent when Lord Stamford bid his farewell, his departure taking the air of menace with him.
“Well,” the countess said with a bright smile. “The earl certainly was most handsome today. He makes a truly dashing gentleman.”
“He is the most odious creature imaginable,” replied Maryann with a calmness which belied the disturbance in her heart.
Her mother’s eyes flashed with anger. “You must perceive the advantages of an eligible marriage! And you cannot do better than Lord Stamford.”
“I do understand such advantages, Mama, I simply do not find the earl eligible in any regards.”
Her temper exacerbated, the countess slammed the door closed, hiding their vexation from the servants in the hallway. “You willful, disobliging creature!”
“Mama, you did not walk in on a…a moment between lovers!”
“Maryann!”
“He held my arms in a painful grasp and was making demands of me he had no right to do.”
Her mother inhaled sharply, and for a moment her eyes softened with sympathy before her spine snapped taut. “I am doing what is best for you. I do not want to see you enduring life as a spinster.”