‘As to that, we shall have to wait and see. Lady Murray is noted for her formidable temper and will not be easily won over,’ he said with an assuredness that gave Marietta cause to wonder how well he was acquainted with Lady Murray. He looked at her sharply. ‘I imagine you hated having to leave Hong Kong when your father died.’
She averted her eyes as memories came flooding back. ‘Yes—it—was difficult, as it must have been for you when your wife died so unexpectedly.’
Max detected a note of accusation in her tone. He stood up, rage kindling in his glittering eyes. He felt as if she had just sunk her teeth into him. ‘When Nadine died. Yes, it was. I was bewildered by your change of attitude and cruel remarks when I tried to offer you comfort at your father’s funeral. I hope you didn’t believe the gossip circulating on the island concerning the manner of her death.’
Marietta had been tormented by the memories of his callous and cruel treatment of his wife and what she had found in that hotel room in Hong Kong. They crowded in around her until she was overwhelmed by them. Finding it difficult to look at him, she averted her eyes. ‘What happened to your wife is not my concern,’ she said coldly. ‘Do you miss her—your wife? It must be painful for you to speak of her after what happened.’
Max’s whole body stiffened and his metallic eyes snapped to her face. His expression hardened into a mask of freezing rage and they glared at each other, the fragile unity they had shared a moment earlier shattered. Her words told him that what he had suspected all along was true: she believed the rumours.
‘What happened? How the hell do you know what happened? You, Marietta, don’t know what you are talking about and have said quite enough. You forget yourself. Whether it is painful for me to speak of Nadine or not is not your concern and I have no intention of doing so just to satisfy your curiosity.’
The raw emotion Marietta heard in his voice told her how damaged his marriage to Nadine had left him. However, his words rekindled her receding anger and her eyes sparked with chipped ice. ‘You are mistaken. It is not idle curiosity. In fact, I am not in the least curious about how your wife died. As you said, it is your affair.’
‘Then you will understand why I do not wish discuss it,’ he said tersely, remembering how he had done his utmost to cover up the scandal that threatened to erupt over Nadine’s death and returned to England. He had taken up his shattered life and carefully put it back together again before embarking on a journey to America.
‘I quite understand. Now I must be getting home.’
In silence he accompanied her down the path towards his horse. When the ground became uneven and strewn with rocks, Max offered her his hand and Marietta took it. At once she was startled by the unexpected jolt of warm pleasure that passed through her as she touched him. She paused and stared at him, and he looked back, the expression in his silver-grey eyes unreadable. She drew a sharp breath and a feeling of dizziness suddenly threatened to overwhelm her.
‘Are you all right?’ Max asked with sudden concern as she swayed slightly. He put out his other hand and gripped her arm, and she had the distinct impression that in another second she would fall into his arms. A volley of gunshot some distance away broke the spell.
Marietta drew back, her colour high, her eyes ablaze. ‘Perfectly. I would like to go now.’
‘Would you like me to walk back with you?’
‘No, thank you,’ she answered coolly, fixing her gaze on the path that led back to Grafton. ‘I’ll find my own way back.’
* * *
The party that sat down to dinner later was larger than usual. Guests from the surrounding neighbourhood were invited, including the Duke of Arden. Marietta had agreed to meet him for her grandmother’s sake, although she could not deny that she was curious about him. As for her grandmother’s enthusiastic hopes that the duke would countenance a marriage between them, nothing more had been said so Marietta could either assume she hadn’t mentioned it to him, or she had and he had refused.
Seeking to fulfil her grandmother’s request and present herself in a regal manner, she had chosen a pale blue satin gown with tiny clusters of seed pearls sewn into the skirt. Yang Ling had swept her hair back from her face and painstakingly curled it in a mass of ringlets that fell in soft tiers from the crown of her head and ended at the nape of her neck.
Standing beside her grandmother, Marietta watched the carriages deposit the guests outside the front door. It seemed as if her grandmother had invited everyone in the neighbourhood so that Marietta soon began to wonder if there would ever be an end to the formalities.
And then one face leapt out at her.
The man was Max Trevellyan.
His thick dark hair was brushed back from his forehead. His silver-grey eyes were clear and alert. Her heart for some bewildering reason was beating like a drum. Instead of showing joy at his appearance, she felt an abject desperation. All she could say was, ‘Lord
Trevellyan! What is he doing here?’
Lady Wingrove turned and looked at her, a little smile playing on her lips. ‘Who, Max? I did tell you that not only is he a friend, but that he is also a neighbour of ours, Marietta. Is your memory so short that you forget?’
‘No, of course not. I am surprised, that is all. We met when I was out walking earlier.’
Lady Wingrove turned and looked at her. ‘You never said.’
‘I didn’t consider it important.’
And then Max was standing before them, bowing over her grandmother’s hand, before turning his head and fixing Marietta with those penetrating grey eyes. She had to make an attempt at the right note of reserved cordiality. ‘Good evening, Lord Trevellyan,’ she said, looking at him with cool disdain, her voice tight. ‘How nice to see you again.’
‘And you, Miss Westwood.’
‘Perhaps you would like to go inside. Not all the guests have arrived.’
‘I think you will find Max is the last, Marietta.’
‘But the Duke of Arden has yet to arrive.’
‘Max is the Duke of Arden, Marietta.’
Marietta was stunned. This revelation was so different from what she had assumed. She stood totally mute and disbelieving, a blaze of animosity and a shock of terror erupting through her entire body. The Duke of Arden! A mixture of anger and hysterical laughter threatened to bubble from her lips, for this was the man her grandmother wanted her to marry. Taking into account their past history, the very idea was madness.
Then she managed to say, ‘Is this true?’
‘I’m afraid it is,’ Max confirmed with a grim smile.
‘And you didn’t think to tell me—either of you?’ she said, looking accusingly at her grandmother, who didn’t appear to be in the least perturbed.
‘It didn’t seem important,’ she replied, echoing her granddaughter’s earlier sentence. ‘Now come along inside. The hunters are gathering. After a day in the open they’ll be anticipating their dinner.’
* * *
The dinner was a jovial affair, and as the consumption of food and wine increased, the conversation became animated. Much gaiety was intertwined with the serious business of discussing the successful day’s shoot. Seated next to a rotund Mr Loxley, who was louder than most of the gentlemen present, and still reeling from the shock announcement of Max Trevellyan’s true identity, Marietta let most of it go over her head. Seated at the head of the table, her grandmother was enjoying herself enormously.
‘You should have joined us on the shoot, Lady Wingrove,’ Mr Loxley said. ‘If you’re as good a shot as I remember, you’d have bagged a few birds yourself and enjoyed yourself into the bargain.’
‘I doubt it. I haven’t fired a gun in years. If I were to do so now, I would more than likely shoot myself as a pheasant, and I don’t intend to die just yet—not until I have seen my dear granddaughter wed and she has presented me with great-grandchildren. Then I will die a happy woman, knowing my beloved home is in safe hands.’
‘Aye, you’ll have no troub
le there,’ Mr Loxley said, smiling benevolently upon the young woman beside him. ‘A right bonny lass she is,’ he pronounced.
‘Positively ravishing,’ the elderly gentleman on Marietta’s other side, who was well into his cups, agreed. ‘By George, if I were not already quite sufficiently well provided for in my own dear wife, I do believe I might offer for her myself.’
‘I’ve no doubt that through your granddaughter, you’ll achieve your heart’s desire, Lady Wingrove,’ Mr Loxley went on, ‘and have Grafton ringing with the laughter of children very soon. What say you, Trevellyan? Arden Hall could do with livening up a bit. A wife and children is what you need—what every man needs.’
Max considered the remark extremely tasteless and tactless, given the fact that his wife had been dead just two years. Uncomfortable that he had been put in this position, his expression hardened and lines of displeasure formed around his mouth. His reply was merely a slow nod before turning his head away in annoyance.
Regarding him from across the table, Marietta thought he seemed to recoil from the whole idea, which reinforced her belief that he did not want children of his own.
Marietta could not stop thinking about Max being the Duke of Arden and the shock of it lingered on. She was angry that they had kept it from her, angry and extremely disappointed.
* * *
It was much later before Max succeeded in waylaying an elusive Marietta on the terrace. Left more to herself, she had taken the opportunity to step out of the French doors for some air. Almost in a daze, she moved to walk down the steps into the darkening garden below, and in her narrowed vision she found a hand ready to assist. It was strong, lean and well manicured. The sight of it set her heart to fluttering and she knew even before she glanced up that she would find Max standing beside her. She was right and he looked so handsome it nearly took her breath away, but she was in no mood to be nice to him.
Without preamble, Max said, ‘I saw you come outside and thought you might like some company.’
‘That all depends on the company, your Grace—and please don’t touch me,’ she flared, eluding his hand. Raising her head and holding up her skirts, she proceeded down the few steps.
With a mocking smile lightly curving his lips, Max followed her. ‘You’ve made your aversion to me abundantly clear, Marietta.’
‘Then what are you here for?’
‘I, too, felt the need for some air.’
He accompanied her along the path and they walked slowly and in silence for several yards, until Marietta was unable to contain herself any longer.
‘Why didn’t you tell me who you were?’ She stopped and whirled to face him, her expression indignant and eyes hurling daggers at him. ‘You could have told me when we met earlier, but you didn’t.’
He shrugged and carried on walking, his hands clasped behind his back. ‘A duke or a lord, what difference does it make? I am still Max Trevellyan.’
Marietta ran to keep up with him. ‘It isn’t just you. My grandmother also kept it from me. Why? Why do I have the distinct impression that you are concocting something between you—that I am being manipulated? And why didn’t you tell her that we already knew each other? Why the secrecy?’
‘It’s no secret. I merely thought you would prefer to tell her yourself. What do you know of your grandmother’s plans for your future, Marietta?’
‘I can’t see that my future is any of your concern, unless,’ she said coldly, coming to a halt and turning to face him with a questioning lift to her brow, ‘my grandmother has said something to you that I should know about.’
He shook his head. ‘Your grandmother and I are involved in a joint business venture at present, so let us say I am an interested party.’
‘I see. Well, you heard what she said over dinner. She wants me wed, and for me to provide her with so many grandchildren that the house will burst with them. She wants what she wanted for her daughter before she ran off and married my father—a penniless nobody in those days. Now she considers me an heiress by English standards and she wants me to marry a title. A prince is out of the question since there isn’t one available in England, but she’ll settle for nothing less than a duke or a marquis.’
‘Do you think you need money to attract a husband?’ he asked, subtly ignoring her remark about marrying a duke. ‘You are very lovely, Marietta. Can you not attract a title by yourself alone?’
She met his eyes. There was an intense, penetrating look in their depths as he waited for her reply. Not knowing if he was aware that her grandmother had her eye on him as her prospective bridegroom, from past experience with this man she knew better than to embarrass herself by mentioning it.
‘As you know, my father was a merchant—a tradesman—which is a way of life still frowned upon in noble circles. You are a duke—your mother a lady as my own mother was. But I have little interest in distinctions. I hope there will come a day when people will be judged by their character and achievements, rather than for their father’s name and rank.’
‘That is a bold hope,’ he agreed. ‘But to most people I will always be known as a duke.’
‘While I will always be known as the daughter of a tradesman.’
Max looked her in the eye and smiled, then his face turned sombre again. ‘I am certain that where marriage is concerned, your grandmother will only do what she considers is best for you.’
‘Most marriages are business arrangements. Why should I imagine mine will be any different?’
‘Doesn’t love have something to do with it? Isn’t that what all young ladies aspire to in marriage?’
She looked at him calmly. ‘A man can get love, as you call it, anywhere. He doesn’t have to marry for it.’
‘That’s true. Marriages are often made for convenience.’
‘But surely a man would want to like his wife. After all, they have to spend a lifetime together.’
From under his strong, straight brows, Max gave her a quizzical look. ‘The same could be said for the woman.’ He had experienced the bitter dregs of a dying marriage. He had always prided himself on his control over the emotions that caused other people to make such a mess of their lives, but he had discovered through his wife’s infidelities what a hollow pride it had been. ‘A poor man will put up with a woman in exchange for her money. It is the law that everything a wife possesses when she marries becomes the property of her husband, to dispose of as he sees fit.’
‘That doesn’t seem fair. In fact, it’s so unfair I am tempted to remain a spinster all my life.’
Max chuckled softly at the imperious way she thrust her chin. ‘That would be a tragic waste of so much beauty, Marietta. Is it so important that you hold on to your wealth?’
‘No, not at all, but I believe in equality and there’s nothing equal in a wife giving everything she owns to her husband who is well within his rights to squander it at the tables or some other form of gambling if he has the fancy.’
‘Since leaving Hong Kong, haven’t you met anyone you wished to marry?’
‘No. Oh, I had plenty of suitors in Paris, only they couldn’t see me, only what I represented: the big houses, fine horses and lavish lifestyle. I enjoyed France, and in Paris I was dressed by Worth and surrounded by luxury. Of course my looks are passable, but I knew it was my money that caused the sudden quiet whenever I entered a room. It was my money that made people look at me sideways when I approached. No one was unaffected by it. It didn’t bother me, but it might have had I been interested in any one of those suitors.’
She gave him a direct look, her expression serious. ‘What would you do, Max? If you were to marry me, would you take all my money? The question is a hypothetical one, naturally.’
He held her gaze for a long silent moment before he said, ‘Of course, and the answer is no.’ This was true. Knowing the source of Marietta’s fortune, that the bulk of it had been acquired by her father smuggling opium into Hong Kong and ruining countless lives, he didn’t want a penny piece of it.
But to Marietta, by way of explanation, he said, ‘Being a rich man in my own right, I would have no need of your money. However, if the situation was different and I was a poor man, I would take a portion of her money and make a generous settlement on my wife. Does that seem fair to you?’
She nodded her approval. ‘Yes, although in real life, your dukedom gives you leave to do as you please.’
Sensing she had drawn away from him, Max sighed in vexation and looked across at the delectable beauty. ‘My dear Marietta, your questions flow like silk from your lips, but like the scent of roses that clings to you, they prick like thorns into my unwary flesh, leaving me to wonder at the truth of the deep chasm that opened up between us when we parted on Hong Kong.’
Marietta’s head snapped up and her eyes flew to his. ‘I told you in London that I would rather not speak of it,’ she replied, her voice terse. ‘Not now. Not ever. Please do not mention it again. And now I think I should be getting back before my grandmother becomes worried and sends out a search party for me.’
* * *
When the guests had departed and those in residence had gone to their beds, Marietta went up to her grandmother’s room.
‘Marietta, come in. I hope you enjoyed yourself tonight and didn’t mind too much that I kept back from you Max’s true identity.’
Marietta smiled and sat on the bed, looking at her. ‘No doubt it was for some mischievous reason of your own. I can’t be angry with you because I haven’t been entirely honest with you either. You see, Max and I met in Hong Kong. I knew him as Lord Trevellyan.’
‘Oh, I see. Well, what can I say? I am most surprised. I really had no idea that the two of you were already acquainted. Why on earth didn’t Max say something?’
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