‘I was glad to be of help, Claudia—as any gentleman would,’ Max replied coolly, hoping to bypass the storm.
As he turned away, leaning forwards and glaring at him, Claudia hissed, ‘You are not forgiven either, Max Trevellyan. You left me to twiddle my thumbs while you sailed off to America.’
Pausing, Max looked at her, his expression hard. ‘It was over then, Claudia. I told you. Excuse us. There are people waiting to meet Marietta.’
Minutes later everyone took their seats as the musicians began to play. Max did not leave Marietta’s side, but neither did he say much to her or so much as glance at her. He was with her, though, and Marietta clung to that fact as if it were the beginning of the reconciliation she wanted so very badly. She had been tempted to tell him about the pregnancy before the music began, but because of her lingering irritation over Lady Murray she decided this was neither the time nor the place. She would not divulge her childbearing state to her husband until there was more accord between them.
* * *
Not until they were in the coach heading for home did he speak.
‘Are you going to explain what you are doing here, Marietta?’
‘There’s nothing to explain,’ she replied. ‘I simply grew tired of rattling about the house on my own. I thought it was about time I came to savour the delights of London—as you have been doing for the past month.’
‘I’ve spent most of my time working. Parliament is in session at present and I have taken up my seat in the Lords, which keeps me busy.’
‘I imagine it does, but you must have had plenty of time to socialise—take this evening, for instance—and I was amazed to find you attending an event with your mistress present.’
Max glanced at her sharply. ‘My what?’
‘Lover?’ Marietta said, her voice hoarse at the indelicacy of asking such a question. She wished she hadn’t spoken, except that the hurt was spreading through her like an ache that wouldn’t stop hurting. ‘Can you promise me that I am the only woman in your life, which is what a wife has every right to expect?’
‘There are no other lovers,’ Max said impatiently, turning his head and glancing out of the window.
‘And you can assure me of that, can you, Max? I am aware it is fashionable for men, even those in high places, to take mistresses, and for wives to turn a blind eye while they do their saintly duty and produce heirs for family continuity.’
Max jerked his head round. ‘Heirs? I am surprised to hear that word on your lips, Marietta, since your refusal to give me an heir is part of the reason why I left Arden. If I took a mistress to provide what you deny, then you should not complain.’
‘So you do not have a mistress?’
He gave a short laugh. ‘I will not answer that. If you can’t take my word for it, then you can surmise all you wish. I will not be browbeaten by a chit of a girl to swear on oath. I did that when I married you.’
The carriage drew up outside the house and they went inside.
Max looked at her. ‘I’ve arranged to spend tomorrow with an old friend of mine in Surrey—Sir William Hopkirk—we were at university together. I intend to leave early. I’m sure you will find plenty to occupy your time in my absence. Sleep well.’ He stood and watched her walk towards the stairs. Something about her—perhaps it was the slight droop to her shoulders or the way she walked... Whatever it was, on a softer note he called her name. ‘Marietta, wait.’
With her hand resting on the newel post she turned and looked at him, waiting for him to speak.
‘I hope the time we have been apart has given you time to think things over—as I have—and Claudia Murray was not in my range—which I gather was what you were trying to ask me in the coach.’
‘She wasn’t?’
‘No.’
She smiled tremulously. ‘Thank you, Max,’ she whispered simply, and turned and went on up the stairs.
* * *
The following morning Marietta ate alone in the breakfast room. Max had left as he had said he would for Surrey. Early afternoon found her accompanied by Yang Ling walking in Regent’s Park.
She was distracted when a man suddenly stepped in front of her, a tall, thin, rumpled gentleman in a felt hat.
‘Good gracious!’ Marietta exclaimed with genuine surprise when she recognised her father’s business partner. ‘Teddy! What are you doing in London?’
Removing his hat, he inclined his head. His hair was thinning now and the red hue turning white. The year of enforced exile from Hong Kong and heavy drinking and opium smoking in some of the meanest hovels in India had not dealt kindly with Teddy Longford. His health was not good, and the poor condition of his liver often reflected itself in fierce, quicksilver changes of mood. He suffered black depressions of discontent and remorse that laid him low for days at a time, followed by long periods of oblivion when he smoked the opium. He lived mainly by his social wits and his skills at the gaming tables. There was little trace of the irresistible charm, the twinkling golden-brown eyes had faded, and the lopsided smile, ever capable of melting even the chilliest female heart, was more like a leer. It hurt Marietta to see it.
‘Walk with me a while, Teddy.’
They fell into step, Yang Ling holding back. The conversation was stilted as they talked about inconsequential things, mainly London and the English climate, and Teddy congratulated her on her marriage to the Duke of Arden, jokingly remarking that out of respect for her title he really should address her as ‘your Grace’.
Marietta gave a gurgle of laughter, surprised that after the strains and stresses of the last few weeks she could still laugh. ‘Don’t you dare, Teddy. Being a duchess makes me feel old and ancient and to be addressed as your Grace by someone who has known me almost all my life is intolerable to me. Tell me what you have been doing since I left Hong Kong.’
‘Things became—difficult for me,’ Teddy said after a moment.
‘How are you, Teddy?’
‘In dire straits, I’m afraid. Things haven’t been going too well for me since I bought your share of the business. I plan on starting again—in India. There’s still a large demand for luxury goods from Europe—and China has developed a strong demand for silver, a commodity your father found difficult to obtain.’
‘I hope you aren’t looking for sympathy, Teddy, because if so you have come to the wrong person.’
‘It wasn’t sympathy I had in mind,’ he said quietly.
‘What, then?’
‘A loan, Marietta. I have no difficulty in supplying the necessary commodities, but I’m suffering from a shortage of funds at present. I need some capital. After inheriting the money your father accumulated before we met and the money you got when I bought your share of the business, I was hoping you’d help me out—for old times’ sake, you understand.’
‘I understand perfectly. So you really came to England to see me.’
‘Yes. You’re the only person I know who can help me.’
‘The only person foolish enough, you mean. If you are short of money now, then you have only yourself to blame. I was shocked when I heard what you had been up to and that you were in serious trouble with the Chinese authorities.’
‘I managed to get out of Hong Kong before I could be questioned—but my misdemeanours were no more serious than those of the other traders out there, hoping to make money the best they could.’
Marietta was secretly pleased that he’d avoided trouble and that he hadn’t had too rough a time of it. He did look dreadful, his tan having faded to a yellow hue from which all other colour had fled. The lines around his eyes and mouth were chalk white. Prison would have finished him.
‘Do you have access to money, Marietta, or is your every penny controlled by your husband?’
‘I have my own money, Teddy, but I’m not sure I want to loan you any of it. I doubt very much I would see a return.’
Looking down at his feet, he shook his head with weary dejection. ‘Then I am finished. Without money and w
ithout reputation, a man is better off dead.’
Marietta stopped and looked at him. Teddy’s financial situation wasn’t her problem or her concern. It was his own shady dealings in opium that had got him into this mess. But she couldn’t turn away from him. Besides, she had given a great deal of thought to the money she had inherited from her father—a large amount having been obtained by corrupt means. Why, even Max wouldn’t touch it. She intended putting some of it to some use, something that would benefit others. She had a project in mind, which was something she would discuss with Max when he was in a more agreeable mood.
‘Please don’t say that.’ She became thoughtful, thinking of her father. What would he have done? What would he want her to do? Would he have refused and sent Teddy on his way after all their years of friendship? He set great store by friendship and Marietta knew he would have given him the money.
‘Very well, Teddy,’ she said, setting aside her own monumental concerns for the moment, but she loathed giving in to him. She hated the idea of paying him off to make him go away. She loathed herself for the doubt growing inside her about his intention to pay back the loan. ‘I will loan you the money—as you said, for old times’ sake. Come back to the house with me and I will write you a bank draft. But I am doing it for my father—not for you.’
Teddy’s expression didn’t alter, but relief flooded his jaundiced eyes. ‘I shall be eternally grateful to you, Marietta. Your husband...’
‘Is out of town. He’s not expected back until this evening.’
* * *
On reaching the house Marietta went to her room to write Teddy a bank draft, leaving him in the drawing room. With a strange feeling that Teddy’s presence in this house was unwelcome and wanting him gone, she did not offer him refreshment. On the point of handing the bank draft over, she stood perfectly still, her gaze suddenly riveted beyond Teddy to the open doorway.
Feeling cold shock run through her, she saw who stood there. It was Max. His tall, broad-shouldered figure blocked out the light and seemed to fill the whole room. He had appeared too suddenly for her to prepare herself, so the heady surge of pleasure she experienced on seeing him again was clearly evident, stamped like an unbidden confession on her lovely face. But then she sensed his fury and her features closed like a book.
Teddy looked at her with impatience, thinking she was about to withdraw her offer of the loan. Her face was stricken, her eyes fearful as she stared at the doorway. Teddy turned slowly, his expression freezing.
‘What the hell is going on? I didn’t realise my wife had invited a guest. What are you doing in my house, Longford?’
Marietta shrank away from Teddy, her eyes never leaving her husband’s brilliant silver-grey eyes, wide and savagely furious. He was wearing riding clothes and his hair was dishevelled, as if he had been riding hard. Her first reaction was cold, numbing fright at the terrible, utter rage on his face. All that had ever been good-humoured, teasing and attractive had given way to hot fury and positive revulsion as he looked at Teddy.
Completely bewildered by Max’s hostility towards Teddy and sensing there was something between them she knew nothing about, Marietta tried to soothe over the situation. ‘I—I met Teddy when I was walking in the park, Max. He—I—had something to give him. He was about to leave.’
Max’s gaze sliced to her. The lightness of his eyes seemed sheathed in ice, anger fixed his mouth into a straight line, his temples pulsed with the rapid beat of his heart. ‘Have you any idea what you have done? This worthless excuse for a man was Nadine’s lover. She shamelessly flaunted their affair in front of me. She was a great favourite among the men on the island of Hong Kong—Longford was just one of many.’
‘Max—what are you saying?’
‘That Nadine spent her life going from bed to bed after we were married. The more the merrier, it would seem.’
Marietta backed away then, deadened with shock at what he had said. ‘I’m so sorry, Max. It is plain that your memories of your former marriage are still raw.’
‘Small wonder,’ he said tightly. He looked again at Teddy, who stood rooted to the spot. ‘By God’s eyes, Longford,’ he said in a voice so low it was a deadly whisper, ‘you made a cuckold of me once. Are you now trying to ingratiate yourself with my second wife?’
Marietta gasped. ‘Max—that was a terrible thing to say. But Teddy—and Nadine?’ She looked at Teddy. ‘Is this true, Teddy?’
Teddy nodded, a grim smile twisting his lips. He was eyeing the tall, powerful man warily, bitter hatred in his eyes. ‘Like your husband said, Marietta, I was just one of many where Nadine was concerned. She was the most beautiful, corrupt woman I have ever met.’
Marietta remained stricken. ‘And the baby?’
Max’s expression was one of absolute contempt. ‘I didn’t know Nadine was pregnant until the day she lost it. The child wasn’t mine. Our marriage was over. I no longer cared what she did. At the time she died you were her lover, Longford, so I imagine the child was yours.’
Marietta moved towards Teddy and looked at him hard, remembering Nadine’s pain. ‘The child was yours, wasn’t it, Teddy?’ He nodded ever so slightly, reluctant to admit his guilt, finding it hard to look into her accusing eyes. ‘And when she told you you said you didn’t want it. Which was why she—she... Oh, Teddy, how could you do that? I remember seeing the two of you together on several occasions, but I never imagined you were lovers.’ Her eyes were burning. ‘I saw her before she died. She was in agony, Teddy.’ He glared at her. ‘You may well look horrified! It was your doing.’
Marietta was still holding the bank draft. Teddy looked at it and, afraid that she might withdraw her offer of the loan, reached out and slipped it out of her hand. He was relieved when she didn’t try to take it back.
Max’s suspicious ice-grey eyes saw, assessed and understood the transaction. ‘What is that?’
‘A loan. Teddy needs capital to start again. I agreed to give it to him.’
Max sneered. ‘If you want to squander your money on a lame duck, then go ahead. But don’t hold your breath for any return. Now get out, Longford. You have finished here.’
‘No, don’t go yet, Teddy,’ Marietta said quickly. ‘My husband may have finished with you, but I haven’t. There are things I have to ask you, things I must know, things I have a right to know—about my father.’
Max stepped forwards, deeply concerned about what Longford was about to divulge and anxious about how it would affect Marietta. ‘Are you sure you want to know?’
Marietta looked at him. His anger was so intense that she felt the blood rush to her cheeks and then drain away completely as her own anger came to the fore. ‘No, I am not sure, but my father has made it so, so I must. I’m older now and can judge people for myself, but back then I could hardly go around asking people if they happened to know whether my father was respectable or not. I loved him dearly, but I always knew he was no saint. I really don’t know anything and I have to know. I need to know.’
Max could imagine the ice spreading through her veins, her nerves being stripped raw. He knew her brain would refuse to accept it at first, but she had to know everything, no matter how distasteful it would be.
Marietta fixed her gaze on Teddy, her eyes hard and unrelenting. ‘Teddy, I will have the truth. Tell me. I know you traded in opium and that you only avoided going to prison by the skin of your teeth. How involved was my father? He was involved, wasn’t he?’
Teddy met her punishing gaze and then looked away. He couldn’t bear to look at her, and she would not let him go until she had wrung the truth out of him. ‘Monty was involved up to his neck. He took to trading in opium when times were bad—we both did. He enjoyed it. Danger and beating the customs men seemed to excite him.’
‘Even though it meant social ostracism if he was found out?’
‘Even then. His ability to charm was his stock-in-trade, but when it was leaked before he died, you must have noticed how invitations to this and that
began to dwindle. His social life was ruined.’
‘Yes, I do remember,’ Marietta said quietly. ‘Had he lived it would eventually have killed him. Although once opium had him in its grip, he would never have escaped that. Oh, I know he smoked it—perhaps not until after he died, but I remember the signs—the unpredictable moods, eyes with pinpoint pupils, the way he picked at his food.’
Teddy nodded and said absently, ‘That and...’
Marietta glanced at him sharply. ‘And what, Teddy? Tell me. I am no longer the ignorant, prudish young girl you knew in Hong Kong. I am a married woman now and not as naïve as you think.’
‘His—illness...’
‘His heart?’ she prompted. ‘Is that what you mean?’
He shook his head. ‘Your father—he enjoyed...’
‘Other women—even while my mother was alive.’ She moved closer to him, her eyes cold and unrelenting. ‘He was unfaithful, wasn’t he? Is that what you are trying to tell me, Teddy?’
He nodded. ‘He was faithful for a while—but your mother’s health forced him to seek... He was clean for a time...’
‘Forced? There is such a word as abstinence, Teddy. And clean? Will you kindly explain what you mean by that?’
Embarrassed to be speaking of so delicate a matter to Marietta, he looked away.
‘Marietta, are you sure you want to know this?’ Max said. ‘Your father is dead. It is no longer important how he behaved in private.’
Marietta turned her burning eyes on her husband. ‘But it is to me, Max. What I am hearing is significant to my future—to our future, and may well go some way to resolving—or at least allowing me to understand my fear of...’ She fell silent. His eyes locked on to hers, understanding exactly what she was getting at.
Max looked at Teddy. ‘Go on,’ he said coldly. ‘Tell her.’
‘Almost half of the men who go to Hong Kong catch—something.’
‘Contagious? I get your meaning, Teddy. Yang Ling has been my maid and confidant for a good many years. She has taught me a great deal about the goings-on in the poor quarters of Hong Kong, about what men get up to away from their wives, and the terrible diseases that are endemic and do not discriminate between men, women and children. What you are saying is that my father went to brothels—visited the flower girls?—who are just prostitutes when all is said and done.’ She saw Max go rigid at her use of the word, but she ignored him. This was too important for her to think of phrasing her words to suit him now. Teddy nodded. ‘Even though he loved my mother?’
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