To Love a Libertine

by LeFey, Liana

  He took a step closer, ignoring the stark terror in her face. “What knowledge does Ravenwood possess to buy such fierce loyalty? I wonder if the knowledge I hold concerning the fellow would trump it. Do you know what sort of man it is to whom you’ve sold Eden?”

  “A ruthless one,” she said dully.

  “How so?” When she did not immediately speak, he prompted her again. “You will tell me now. How so?”

  When she spoke, the words sounded as though they were being dragged out of her. “My husband’s debt was not limited to merchants and tradesmen. He owed a great deal to the crown. He was only able to avoid being taken to prison by using Eden’s dowry to satisfy part of it with the promise the rest would be paid before the year is out.”

  A mixture of disgust and pity washed over him, leaving behind a sour taste in his mouth. “He robbed his own daughter and then sold her to pay the rest of it. That a man could sink so low is—”

  “He had no choice,” she snapped. “The marriage settlement has already satisfied his debts, and Ravenwood has used his influence at court to have all record of transgression expunged. He holds those records now and has promised to give them to Sir Geoffrey after the wedding. Once we have them they will be destroyed, and it will be as if it never happened.”

  Her desperate eyes began to brim. “He offered us a new life, a fresh start. But if she does not honor her commitment no amount of money from any source will save us.” The tears broke containment. “Ravenwood knows she favors you. He has threatened to use his influence to have Sir Geoffrey hung for treason if she throws him over, and I believe he will do it if he does not get what he wants.”

  So, Ravenwood had friends in high places. He wondered exactly who they were and how one so young had managed to climb so high. He had an idea, but it wasn’t something he could say in the presence of a lady. “Why her?” he asked instead. He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear her opinion. “He’s not in love with her—this I know for certain. So why Eden, specifically?”

  A shrug lifted her shoulders. “He’s not said anything but that she is his choice, and he will have no other.” Her manner softened. “Please, I beg you to cease your pursuit of her. If you would not condemn her to Hell’s fire for adultery, if you really do love her, then leave her be. Let her find what contentment she may in her marriage. He has sworn to be good to her, to treat her well, but if you continue this madness and come between them…”

  Every drop of blood in his veins froze as he looked down into Lady Catherine’s imploring face. “Madam, I am already between them, and it is because I love her that I cannot allow her to marry him.” It was time to show his hand—at least in part. “I’m sure you are as aware of Ravenwood’s reputation as you are of mine; however, you don’t know the extent of his degeneracy. I do. The man is a libertine of the sort to put my past into deep shade. I won’t subject your gentle sensibilities to the sordid details of his depravity, but will say only that certain of his vices bear the penalty of death should he ever be caught indulging them.”

  One shaking, beringed hand rose to cover lips suddenly devoid of color. A small, strangled noise escaped from beneath it.

  There was no room for pity. Not now. Not when so much was at stake. “There can be no happiness, no contentment for Eden with such a man, only misery of the worst kind and the possibility of a scandal that will taint her entire family for generations to come. If there is any love at all in your heart for her, you will put an end to their engagement immediately.”

  Silence.

  “My offer stands,” he said, bowing shortly. “And lest you forget, I am also a peer of the realm—a higher ranking one than Ravenwood—and not without influence of my own. I’ll leave you to consider my words and relay them to Sir Geoffrey. He may send for me in the event he sees reason and wishes to discuss the matter. You may also let him know that, in the event he does not, he can expect to see me at the wedding, at which time I will voice my objection to the union publicly and present evidence to support my claim.”

  Turning, he left her standing aghast. He might have gone too far in telling her Ravenwood was in danger of being executed for his peccadilloes, but he’d needed to impress upon her the seriousness of the situation.

  He just hoped it didn’t get back to Ravenwood. If it did, there was every possibility that all he’d been working toward with regard to finding Abigail would be for naught. His link to Loxdon would be exposed. If their joint activities became public knowledge, his list of enemies would grow longer than he cared to contemplate. He’d doubtless be marked for death.

  There had to be a way to get Ravenwood to give Eden up willingly. Regardless, if it cost him everything, he could not let the bastard have her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Eden stared, unseeing, at the leaden sky outside her window. The journey home yesterday had passed in a haze of exhausted disbelief. Exhaustion because she’d hardly slept since accepting Ravenwood’s proposal. Disbelief because she questioned her own sanity.

  She’d made so many errors. It had been insanity to accept the devil’s bargain. Insanity to refuse the first of Percy’s offers of marriage and all the ones to follow it. Insanity to try and convince her family to accept him.

  Insanity to have made him her lover.

  My lover. A humorless laugh tried to force its way out, and she swallowed it. She’d lost her heart, her maidenhead, and now her mind. Had it not been for the pleasant ache in her nether regions, she might have been able to convince herself it was all a dream. But it had been real. She’d given Percy her virtue along with her heart.

  Her only regret was having told him so.

  He didn’t say it back…

  She fought against tears. Naturally, her feelings were stronger than his—he was a man accustomed to women throwing themselves at him. Had they loved him, too? Her heart ached over how far she’d fallen for the sake of that sentiment. Love for her family would make her wed a man she despised. Love for Percy would make her break her vows to said man. They were already broken.

  Everything was broken. Every hope, every dream she’d ever had was shattered, and nothing short of marrying Percy would restore them.

  The milk is spilled. Stop dwelling.

  He’d been gone by the time she’d managed to get downstairs the morning after their tryst. In truth, she hadn’t really expected him to linger. Everything was settled, and there was no further need for discussion. She would marry Ravenwood to save her family and take Percy as her amour for as long as he would have her. Nothing would change for him. For her, however…

  “Eden?”

  She ignored her stepmother’s inquiry and remained facing the window. Silk rustled behind her, and she felt Catherine come to stand at her side.

  “Eden, I need to know…are you aware of any reason—any physical reason—why you would be unable to marry Ravenwood?”

  A cold knot formed in her gut. Careful to keep her gaze focused on the view outside her window, she lied without words, shaking her head.

  “I ask because I heard Tavistoke was present at the Dunsany house party.”

  The knot tightened. It will rain soon…

  “If he came to you, if anything happened, I would know it now. Better we should be prepared than for matters to unfold into unpleasantness later.”

  Say nothing. Do not speak. It wouldn’t matter if she confessed. It wouldn’t change anything. She would still have to marry Ravenwood. The clock on the mantel ticked, measuring out time as it passed in an otherwise silent room.

  At last, she heard Catherine’s weary sigh. “I know you think otherwise, but my intent in arranging this union was not entirely mercenary. I honestly thought Ravenwood the sort of man who could make you happy. He and Lord Tavistoke are very much alike…”

  Contempt filled Eden as she whirled, imbuing her gaze with all the loathing and disdain festering inside. Were anger alone able to ignite a fire, the room would have been immolated.

  Her stepmother’s words t
railed off, and she stood blinking back at her with swollen red eyes.

  It was the first time Eden had seen true remorse in her face since the beginning of this farce. For half a moment she was tempted to soften, to forgive, but her torn heart refused. Without uttering a word, she brushed past Catherine and left the room.

  Ravenwood was nothing like Percy. No two men could have been more disparate in nature. Percy would never have forced her to marry him. Persuade, yes; coerce, no. Ravenwood had purchased the vessel, but he would not have what it contained. He’d have none of her heart, her spirit, her soul. No touch from her, no kind word, no look of tenderness. Not ever.

  Not that she believed he cared for such things. No man who could do what he’d done gave a damn about love or anything even resembling it. She’d endure her marriage bed because she had to, but she would never respond to him with anything but revulsion. He’d have legal access to her body, but he might as well make love to a corpse.

  Though she’d premeditated her sin and was willfully planning to continue living in a fallen state, still she sent a prayer heavenward. Please, let me get with child quickly, provide him an heir, and be done with him.

  With child…

  Her step faltered and she stopped, one hand on the railing, the other clutching at a throat suddenly constricted. The fear that had been planted inside her germinated, its roots gripping her, binding her in a horrible embrace. Quiet terror filled her at the thought of what Ravenwood would do if she came into the marriage bearing Percy’s child.

  It would be another two weeks before she would know. The wedding was in just days. She could not postpone her nuptials or make her lawful husband wait to consummate their vows without raising suspicion.

  There was no choice. She would have to go through with it and hope she was not already pregnant. If she missed her menses immediately following the wedding, the only way to know who the father of her child was would depend on how strongly it resembled the father.

  Oh God. It would be nine months of agonized guessing. If she were already pregnant, she prayed for the child’s sake nobody would be able to tell who’d sired it. Better that than for it to be called a cuckoo and be reviled. She would love her babe no matter who his or her father was, but the rest of the world…

  Her eyes stung as she ducked into her room and leaned against the closed door. How has it come to this? How has my life been turned so completely upside down? In a matter of months, she’d gone from being the adored and spoiled belle of Lancashire to bargaining chip and fallen woman. Innocence was a thing of the past now. Henceforth, she would live in a state of sin, torn between hatred, covetousness, and lust.

  If only I had accepted Percy when I had the chance. We could have eloped. It would have left her family in a state of shame, but Percy was right. She would have been his marchioness, and society would have eventually forgiven her. He would have discreetly bailed her family out of financial ruin. She would have been happy.

  Instead everything had gone wrong because she’d feared to seize the moment. Some of the fault was hers. Some belonged to others. Papa had initiated this downward spiral into woe. Catherine had sped her along it. Had fate itself turned against her? Was this her destiny?

  Locking the door, she threw herself on the bed, buried her face in a pillow, and succumbed to tears. Emotion bled from her heart as from a knife wound. Hope gushed out along with it, leaving her in despair.

  Only one chance remained of any happiness. Percy hadn’t declined her offer. She would have some part of him, if only for a little while. And perhaps, if she now bore his babe, she might have more.

  A tiny, selfish part of her longed to have his child. Even if no one else could tell who the father was, she was confident she would somehow know. There would be some defining trait, some hint only she would recognize. If the babe were his, she’d never tell a soul, not even him.

  It was even reasonable to think there might be more than one child born of their lovemaking, provided their association remained intact over the next several years and they were careful. Would Ravenwood even care if she maintained an affair with his rival? The man wanted to marry her enough to hold her family hostage, but she was certain he didn’t desire her.

  Again, the question nagging in the back of her mind popped to the fore. Why does he want me? Surely not only because of Percy’s attentions?

  Suspicion snaked its way through her thoughts, coloring everything she knew of Ravenwood, every interaction they’d had up to this point. The man had chosen her out of all the available women in England. Her stepmother’s interference aside, what motive did he have to single her out?

  Thanks to Papa, she had no dowry to speak of. Ravenwood was in fact paying for his bride. A bride he did not desire. A bride who openly wanted someone else. Had Ravenwood some sort of vendetta against Percy? She’d never heard of any conflict between them. In fact, Ravenwood had given every impression of idolizing him.

  An urgent need for more information galvanized her, launching her into action. Genevieve would know something. Even if she didn’t, she would find out quickly enough if given the right questions to ask. Going to her window, Eden opened the curtains and put her candlestick on the sill.

  …

  Percy slumped against the cushions of his favorite chair at White’s, fighting an urge to have another brandy. He needed his wits intact. Sir Geoffrey might send for him at any moment, and the last thing he needed was to show up on the man’s doorstep inebriated. He was flanked by Montgomery and Hogarth, both of whom felt no such need for restraint. They were already on their second glass.

  “By the bye, Tavistoke,” said Hogarth. “I’ve been meaning to thank you for your intervention. Two days ago Morris sent a man with my fee and a formal apology.”

  A grin split Percy’s face. Any good news was a welcome distraction. “My friends at Westminster were happy to oblige. Perhaps Morris will now think twice before trying to cheat an honest man.”

  “Indeed, I believe he will.” Hogarth shook his head sadly. “Speaking of work, I don’t suppose you’ll want my portrait of the girl now she’s to marry another. Pity. I’ve finished it. It’s one of my finest pieces yet—in my opinion, at least.”

  “Of course I want it,” Percy said, frowning. “You don’t actually think I’ve given up, do you?”

  At this, Montgomery sat up and eyed him. “You cannot abduct her, not without it resulting in a duel.”

  Percy snorted. “Oh, I don’t mind facing the blackguard with a blade or pistol, if that’s what is required.” He’d fought more duels than he could count, and dismissed the prospect with a negligent wave. “Truth be told, I would relish the opportunity to teach the arrogant puppy a lesson. But it’s more complicated than it appears. There is something else going on here. Something I must fathom before taking action, lest I worsen the situation.”

  “You suspect foul play?” asked Montgomery.

  “I suspect—” He broke off as another gentleman passed by their table. “On second thought, this is probably a matter better discussed in private.”

  The manservant attending them stooped to murmur, “Pardon me, my lord, but I believe the Amber Room is currently unoccupied.”

  “Excellent idea,” Percy agreed, rising. “I’m not in the mood to be gawked at, anyway.” He dug a coin from his pocket and handed it to the waiting man while his companions stood. Following the servant, they made for the stairs.

  As they were passing one of the semiprivate anterooms, a familiar voice caught Percy’s attention. Dropping back, he paused by the curtain to listen.

  “And the little jade has no idea,” said Lord Wells. “By this time next year, she’ll find herself wishing she’d accepted my offer when she had the chance. Ah, but revenge is sweet, lads,” the man said over the appreciative chuckles of his companions. “And never sweeter than when justly served.”

  Every hair on the back of Percy’s neck stood on end. Though Wells had not named the woman to whom he referred, he k
new beyond any doubt it was Eden. It could be no other. The same bitterness had been rife in Wells’s voice the day he’d pointed her out to him as the foil for his plan to reaffirm his notoriety.

  Long ago, Percy had learned to pay attention to his instincts. They now screamed the answer he’d been seeking: Wells had put Ravenwood up to offering for Eden’s hand. The desire to dive into the room and throttle the bastard was almost overwhelming, and it took every scrap of self-control not to give in to it.

  How had Wells managed to coerce Ravenwood into doing it? His crowded thoughts coalesced into one answer. There was just one possible measure of knowledge weighty enough to move such a lever. But if Wells knew Ravenwood’s secret, the question then became how he’d come into the information.

  It was time to pay another visit to Loxdon. Knowledge was a formidable weapon, and he needed to find out all he could concerning Lord Nelson Wells. If Wells knew the truth, it would mean Ravenwood was already under significant pressure. Logic told Percy that two men holding the same club over the man’s head with opposing demands would result in only one end: Ravenwood would shoot himself rather than face a public trial and execution.

  While that would achieve his ends and free Eden, Percy didn’t want a suicide’s blood on his hands. To drive a man to take his own life was almost as unforgivable as suicide itself. He’d rather kill the fellow outright on the field of honor. At least then his enemy could be buried in hallowed ground. He had no desire to be haunted by a man’s wandering spirit.

  The raucous laughter from inside the room grated on his nerves to the point of pain. He needed another brandy. Now. A summons from Lowther be damned—it would never come. He must take action himself to stop the wedding.

  Going upstairs, he forced himself to sit with his friends for half an hour and two glasses of brandy. Of what he’d learned he made no mention. Instead, he voiced his opinion that Ravenwood was being influenced by someone. His friends speculated wildly regarding who it might be. Montgomery even suggested Lady Sotheby.