To Love a Libertine

by LeFey, Liana

  He made it sound so easy. “That may prove somewhat difficult. My stepmother is unlikely to provide me any opportunity to sabotage her plan. She means for me to marry him.”

  “I’ll shoot him before I let that happen.” The look in his eyes was no longer one of amusement.

  Oh Lord! A duel fought over her favor was the last thing she wanted. “I cannot openly defy her. Such disrespect would not only earn my father’s censure, but it would almost ensure the hardening of her resolve against you. She would be the first to attribute my rebellion to your influence.”

  His lips thinned. “Eden, I know you like not the idea of a scandal, but I’m willing to take you to Gretna Green. I know it seems a drastic measure, but trust me when I say a scandal blows over quickly once the couple in question is married.”

  “Not in my family. She would never forgive me, and neither would Papa. And you would never see my dowry. That much is certain.”

  “I have no need of your dowry,” he said with a smile to melt stone. “And why do you require their forgiveness? Once you bear my name you will be their concern no longer. Much as I dislike saying it, in terms of our society, might often makes right. As my marchioness you would outrank all your relations.” The smile stretched another increment. “Trust me when I tell you they will change their attitudes after the wedding and do everything possible to remain in your good graces.”

  How she wished she could simply not care about the personal injury it would do to her familial relationships. “If I am touched by scandal, it will affect them all, including my brother.”

  “Who is but a child,” he countered. “By the time he reaches his majority, your unconventional marriage will have long been forgotten. People will only care that his sister is a marchioness. Indeed, it is a connection that will only benefit him when it comes time for him to find a wife.”

  “My stepmother would beg to differ. You must understand she is eager to erase the taint of her decision to marry beneath her rank.” It hurt to say it, for in her opinion Papa was a gentleman whose title was nowhere near as lofty as he deserved. “In her eyes, any scandal attached to me will be an indelible black mark against her. I know you like it not, but I would prefer to have my family’s support—at least my father’s.”

  He stared into her eyes for a long moment. “I will speak with Ravenwood. Unless he is a complete fool, he will acknowledge my claim and retreat from the battlefield. Your stepmother will be wroth with me if she finds out, which changes nothing,” he added with a rueful smirk. “But you at least will be spared her ire. If she accuses you, you must pretend ignorance.”

  Reaching out, he caressed her cheek, the soft stroke of his fingertips causing her to shiver not with cold, but with desire. She wanted to lean into him, but they were in full view of everyone and God. For him to touch her in such an intimate manner was already beyond the pale. If anyone saw it…

  “The music is about to begin,” murmured Percy.

  Her ears registered the faint sound of instruments being tuned. Taking the arm he offered, she descended the stair so they could assume position for the dance. Heads turned as they passed, one of them belonging to Ravenwood.

  Percy’s hold shifted, bringing her closer. A flicker crossed Ravenwood’s face, and eyes the color of slate narrowed. He’d noticed. Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea to have Percy talk to him, after all.

  Hope flared for a moment in her breast. Then her eye fell on her stepmother’s face, which was devoid of all expression, and the spark fizzled out. There would be trouble aplenty if her complicity were discovered.

  A moment later the music swept her away, and the only thing that mattered was the man partnering her.

  I should have said yes to Scotland…

  Reason told her she’d done the right thing in saying no, but still her heart wouldn’t let it rest. Gretna Green would remain an option of last resort only. Every other means must first be tried.

  Chapter Eleven

  Percy moved through the steps of the dance and tried not to show his chagrin. Seeing the look in Ravenwood’s eyes had elicited a possessive urge that had been impossible to quell. Everything in him yearned to solidify his claim on Eden.

  Her desire for her family’s approval was understandable, but if she truly wanted him would she not have agreed to a Scottish elopement? To realize she didn’t reciprocate his sentiment with equal enthusiasm put an ache in his chest he’d thought—and had wanted—never to experience again.

  Sabrina had been “fond” of him, too. No such half measure would suffice when it came to Eden, however. He wanted all of her, including her heart. She desired him. She liked him. It was a start, but he needed to nurture those feelings. And time, it appeared, was not on his side.

  Eden smiled at him from across the aisle, the corners of her sweet mouth curving up, bringing out the tempting little dimple in her cheek. Their fingers touched briefly, again awakening the current that flowed between them every time they made contact. Then the turn separated them, leaving him again bereft. A tiny crease appeared between her brows, telling him she’d felt it, too.

  Passion was one thing they shared in plenty. What he needed now was to win her love. He wouldn’t repeat his past errors by choosing a woman incapable of loving him wholly. All the married women he’d obliged had been tied to other men, and even Sabrina had already given her heart to another when they’d met. But what reason did Eden have for holding back? Reputation aside, he was gallant, chivalrous, an attentive lover, and he rightfully treated women as equals in intelligence, ability, and worth. Why wouldn’t she love him?

  His father’s stern voice whispered the answer in his memory. Because you are unworthy, a waste of good material that ought to have been spent making a better man than the one I see before me. Had your brother lived, I would have disinherited you long ago and made him my heir.

  Old pain skewered him anew. It was astonishing how much that memory still hurt. Even now it ate at him, gnawed at his guilt-ridden conscience. He could have been a better son, a better brother.

  It should have been me who died that day, not David.

  David had worshiped him, looked to him as an example. At fourteen, Percy had dared his eleven-year-old brother to ride a half-broken stallion their father had purchased from a local fair. Having already proven himself able to control the beast, he had assumed David would be able to do the same. He’d thought it a good way to boost his timorous brother’s self-confidence.

  Rearing up under the hands of its uncertain rider, the horse had thrown David. His neck had snapped on impact, killing him in an instant. A part of Percy had died with him.

  Father had shot the horse, and the look in his eyes as he’d handed the gun back to the groom had justly accused Percy.

  He’d wanted to die.

  But death hadn’t been an option. With David gone, his sole purpose in life had become to serve his family and continue the line. Father’s tolerance for error had vanished, and the old man who’d once smiled at his son’s occasional recalcitrance had grown obsessed with crushing it from him, into making his heir a perfect replica of himself.

  And Percy had chafed under his harsh yoke. At eighteen, knowing there was no other heir, he’d slipped his chains and run wild. Father had never forgiven him for it. Just as he’d never forgiven himself for David’s death.

  He’d flourished in his dissolute life, too. Powerful people had flocked to him, drawn by a charisma he hadn’t known he possessed until after it was pointed out by a particularly gifted courtesan. His charm had garnered him favor with the highest in the land, but never with Father. The rift between them had never been bridged, and death had only widened the gap.

  It had taken a blow to his heart and the occasion to stare down Hell’s throat to show him the true cost of his way of life. A way of life he could never again countenance. Thus had begun the irreversible process of his reformation.

  If Father could see me now…

  Eden gracefully rounded the
turn to again slip her fingers into his palm and join him in a promenade. Desire flashed in her azure eyes and brought roses to her cheeks.

  But desire was not enough.

  His punishment was now upon him. Her reticence, her unwillingness to commit her heart into his keeping, was the penance for his past conduct. It was only the natural consequence he deserved. Even so, he couldn’t help wondering if he was consigned to forever be viewed with a jaundiced eye.

  Montgomery claimed to have seen the good in him long ago, despite the fact no one else ever had. Father had once accused him of having no conscience. At the time, he’d taken it as a compliment. But one had indeed existed, buried deep beneath the degenerate mask he’d so cheerfully donned. He’d hidden it well, afraid to reveal any vulnerability lest it be exploited and his father win their moral war.

  Father was dead now. He didn’t have to wear the mask anymore. He didn’t want to wear it. But prying it off was proving more difficult than he’d ever imagined. Being a marquess, people would always bow and scrape before him, regardless of his sins. They would obey his whims and seek to please him because of his title and clout.

  Love was different. You couldn’t buy it. You couldn’t make someone love you by any means other than being worthy to receive the gift. Would he ever be worthy? Could Eden believe him a different man than the one everyone else saw?

  If ever there was a woman capable of forgiving him, of seeing beyond his past and understanding him, it was her. Everything in him knew it for a certainty. If he could just redeem himself in her eyes, earn her trust and her love, it would mean there was hope. Hope for happiness, for contentment. For salvation.

  The dance once more separated them. Again they stood at opposites across the aisle as the other couples passed between them. A smile lived in her fathomless blue eyes, one he knew was intended for him alone.

  All the air vanished from his lungs. God, how he wanted her to love him!

  Realization struck, temporarily blinding him. All his thoughts up to this point had been greedy ones. He wanted her love. But what had he given her in exchange? His desire, yes. The promise of pleasure, certainly. The assurance of amenable companionship, indeed—they were, he was convinced, compatible in every way. But what of his heart? As he stood gazing at the woman he’d chosen to be his bride, he suddenly saw the truth of her.

  Like him, she was fragile and vulnerable beneath the exterior. Like him, she hid under a veil of nonchalance to protect herself. Like him, she was afraid to love, afraid of putting her heart into someone’s hands and then finding that person undeserving of it.

  Tenderness flowed like warm honey through him, and the calluses guarding his innermost being softened. In that moment he gave her his heart. By all that was true and good on earth and in heaven, he would be worthy of her.

  Across the aisle, a question formed in Eden’s eyes, but all he could do was smile back at her. She wouldn’t believe him if he revealed himself now, but he would make her see the truth.

  He was wholly hers. Now if he could just convince her to take him.

  …

  Eden’s insides fluttered wildly as Percy stared at her, his dark eyes intense, filled with some unnamed emotion that both exhilarated and frightened her. Something had just happened. The atmosphere between them had changed somehow, in a way she didn’t understand.

  The dance held them apart while the other couples promenaded between, preventing her from asking his thoughts. To hear the music draw to its conclusion was a sore disappointment in many ways, not the least of which was the sudden appearance of another man’s face before her even as she rose from her curtsy.

  Percy flashed a rueful smile at her before making a graceful retreat.

  It was difficult to hide her irritation from the man who’d so rudely stepped in before the dance’s completion. He wasn’t the first to do so. Percy’s claim on her seemed to have only inflamed the interest of the other gentlemen. In a way, she was grateful for the constant flow of partners and conversation. It kept her stepmother at bay—and Ravenwood along with her.

  When would Percy speak to him? Not tonight, surely. His message had been clear enough without a direct confrontation. If he did have to address the man, he would certainly do so in private.

  A lull in the music was a signal for everyone to seek either refreshment or air. Percy was nowhere in sight. Her stepmother, however, was. The moment their eyes met, Eden knew she was in trouble. At her side were Papa and Lord Ravenwood. There was no choice but to wait while they made their way over.

  Papa was the first to speak, and he wasted no time with preamble. “Eden, this is Viscount Ravenwood. Lord Ravenwood, I present to you my daughter, Miss Eden Lowther.”

  She curtsied and waited for the man to bow.

  He did so, but only barely enough to qualify the word. “A pleasure, Miss Lowther.”

  Beside him stood her stepmother, her narrowed eyes commanding her to be agreeable.

  “Likewise, Lord Ravenwood,” Eden replied without inflection.

  “May I have the honor of your next available dance, Miss Lowther?”

  “I am engaged for the next three.”

  “Then I will look to the fourth.”

  Catherine’s cheeks were as red as ripe apples. “Lord Ravenwood has been telling us of his estate in Warwickshire,” she interjected.

  “I’m sure it’s very lovely,” Eden answered. It was not. Having traveled through the area on her way from Lancashire to London, she remembered much of it as being sparsely populated and rather desolate. When she failed to inquire any further, her stepmother’s face darkened another shade. Her distress was clear, but Eden refused to soften her stance to placate her.

  Ravenwood broke the silence. “Perhaps you might do me the honor of paying a visit on your way home.” His nervousness was apparent as he licked his narrow lips and fidgeted. “I invite your family to overnight with me as my guests. Late summers are fine in that part of the country. It is the time of year I enjoy best. Good riding and hunting, too. I’ve a very well-stocked stable,” he added with a glance at her father, who smiled weakly in return.

  Inwardly, Eden cringed. This was going about as well as she’d expected.

  “Perhaps we will, at that,” replied Papa in a noncommittal tone. “And now I think I should like a bit of a rest and perhaps a pipe. I’m off to the gentlemen’s lounge. You are welcome to join me if you like.”

  “Thank you,” said Ravenwood. “I must decline your kind offer, however, as I’m obligated for the next two dances.”

  It was all Eden could do to keep her mouth from dropping open. Of all the nerve! What would he have said had she accepted his invitation to partner her for the immediate dance? Would he have abandoned his other obligation, leaving some poor girl without her promised partner, or would he have retracted his offer and put her off until he was at liberty to fulfill it? Neither would have been acceptable. Catching her stepmother’s eye, she held her basilisk stare with one of her own, letting Catherine know she was less than impressed.

  Ravenwood did not appear to notice the silent battle between them. He merely bowed—again only shortly. “Ladies. Your humble servant.”

  Infuriated, Eden said nothing as the arrogant ass departed. For a man reputed to be nearly as big a rake as Percy, he was certainly lacking in charm.

  “You could have been a bit more genial,” groused her stepmother.

  “I could say the same of you with regards to Lord Tavistoke,” Eden snapped before thinking better of it.

  “You know my opinion concerning him,” hissed Catherine. “I expect you to treat Ravenwood with all due courtesy.”

  “I would never be discourteous to any gentleman,” Eden answered, reining in her ire. “Excuse me, I must find my next dance partner.” As she turned, she spied Lord Wells. He was watching her with a most unfriendly expression. She half expected to look down and find the hilt of a blade protruding from her chest. His wife was with him. A pale ghost of a woman, Lady Well
s stood by her husband with downcast eyes.

  A shudder ran through Eden. There but for the grace of God… She looked away, searching for Percy, and noticed Ravenwood now standing amid a group of men. To her surprise, he wore an easy smile. Only moments ago he’d seemed so uncomfortable and awkward. Was it because he realized she belonged to Percy? She hoped so.

  Her attention during the next two dances was divided between watching Percy, whose passing smiles much improved her mood, and keeping an eye on Ravenwood who was, as he’d said, partnering other ladies. When it was finally time for her dance with him, she was able to smile and engage in polite conversation. For Ravenwood’s part, he seemed far more relaxed. She attributed his earlier state to her parents standing guard over them.

  Ravenwood was keen to learn whether she enjoyed riding and what her feelings were concerning the “alarming” shift in women’s fashion toward even wider panniers.

  “The Parisians are mad,” he complained. “Soon there will be no room left for a gentleman to offer a lady his arm. He will at best be restricted to offering her only his fingertips. I feel it is to the detriment of any lady to be required to decorate herself so lavishly. Everyone knows that in the natural world it is the male that displays his feathers to attract a mate and not the other way around.”

  Had he been anything less than perfectly serious, she would have laughed aloud at his supercilious manner. If this dandified peacock looked to Percy as his template, he’d sadly missed his mark. Their dance ended with him asking leave to call on her the following day. Knowing her stepmother would have her head if she didn’t, she granted his request. Percy knew the truth, and that was what mattered.

  By the time Ravenwood bowed and said his farewell, she’d put her finger on what bothered her about him. He did none of the things she’d expect of a rake—or indeed any man—supposedly interested in a match. Most men openly ogled her more obvious feminine charms with frank delight and made little compliments on her appearance.

  Ravenwood had hardly looked at her beyond a cursory glance. As for her reaction to him, there was none. Not that she’d expected any, but it was yet another affirmation of what Percy had said. Truly, their reaction to each other was not a common happenstance. Just thinking about it made her warm all over again.