Drawn to the Marquess

by Evans, Bronwen

  “I never met your mother’s father, Baron de Guise. Your mother’s family came from Guernsey, did they not?”

  She nodded and played with her pearls. “I loved visiting him. I think that is what spurred my love for sea views. My home has the most amazing view out over the cliffs to the sea but I suspect you have similar views in Dorset.”

  His eyebrow quirked up. “You’ve heard or you have researched?” He stared at her for a moment. “What else have you found out about me?”

  She lowered her eyes to the table and selected a slice of cheese. “I have, of course, not investigated directly. I did nothing more than ask a few friends.”

  “Female friends?”

  She shook her head. “Not all. My brother told me of your reputation for doing your duty and fighting for England in the war or should I say wars. Your reputation as a sailor or ship’s captain is also legendary, and I tried not to listen to the tales of the high seas exploits such as that of a pirate.”

  He chuckled and the sound warmed her. “I have sailed around the globe. I had the odd encounter with pirates but I’ve never been one myself as is claimed.”

  “Oh, that’s a tad disappointing. I like the idea of a pirate on my side.”

  The air stirred and heated. “I’m happy to play the pirate for you at any time, Pen.” The way he said the word “Pen” made her breath hitch.

  She ignored him. “I’d love to travel, but women are not encouraged to do so. I have read about different countries but it is not the same as seeing it. What is your favorite place that you’ve visited?”

  His smile dimmed before he helped himself to more rabbit pie. “You are correct. Seeing a country is infinitely more stimulating than reading about it. As to my favorite place, that is a more difficult question to answer. The world is an infinitely beautiful and equally ruthless place.”

  “That doesn’t tell me anything. Have you been to India? My brother told me it is very hot and yet they eat hot food, and not as in temperature-hot but in spice?”

  She sat back and pushed her plate away, not being able to eat anything else, but she hoped Stephen would continue eating. She wanted to hear more. She would love to have the courage to set off around the world by herself, but until she found men she could trust not to take advantage of her, that did not seem a prudent idea. She’d learned never to put herself into a situation where she would be vulnerable to a man’s strength.

  “It is very hot in India and it is not a dry heat. It’s as if the air is full of unshed rain. Your clothes stick to you and the heat drains your energy.”

  “That doesn’t sound very pleasant.”

  The rakish smile was back. “The English ladies wilt, but the native Indian women are helped because they do not wear the same clothes as would you. They wear light silks wound round themselves with bare midriffs and arms so their skin can breathe.”

  Her face flushed with color at the idea of walking around with her stomach bare. “I assume you liked India, then,” she said drily.

  His smile dazzled. “It wasn’t my favorite place. Africa was amazing because of the animals. To see the king of the jungle, an expert hunter, a killer…a lion up close surrounded by his pride of females”—he winked—“he certainly enjoyed his harem.”

  An image of Stephen in nothing but a lion skin wrapped around his waist, with females purring at his feet, flashed in her head. She hated that after years of teaching herself to ignore the urges that often flooded her body late at night, one dinner with Stephen had her wishing for a different marriage, a different life—why couldn’t she feel these desires for a man who wanted the same things as she?

  She’d dreamed of what her married life with Carmichael would be. They would be true partners in love. Have a dozen children and look after their tenants and estate and perhaps travel occasionally. Italy was first on her list of countries to visit. None, absolutely none, of those dreams came true.

  She hadn’t noticed that Stephen was staring intently at her. “It makes you uncomfortable talking about, or thinking about, passion.”

  “I’m a lady. Of course it does,” she said.

  “I happen to think that passion is one of the most beautiful things a person can experience.”

  “Obviously, you haven’t had sex with Carmichael.” She blinked. Had she said that out loud? She couldn’t help it. She looked at Stephen and they both burst out laughing. After a few minutes they both grew quiet. She could not stop her mouth from opening or the words she’d been thinking from spilling out. “Isn’t it more special with someone you love? It has to be or why else fall in love.”

  His face grew serious. “Is love real or is it something the poets conjured up? The idea that one person could be all things to another person, satisfy every need, seems unbelievable, unattainable, merely setting couples up for failure.”

  “My parents loved each other deeply. My father defied his family for my mother, the daughter of a lowly baron. He was devastated when she died. And surely the poets write about love because it’s real, true, and pure. How else could they describe the emotion so well?”

  He looked uncomfortable with the subject, as most men did. “Having never experienced this so-called ‘love’ I cannot comment.”

  “I find it interesting that you worship beauty yet beauty fades, withers, dies. Every living thing grows old. Love, true love, is enduring. My father visited my mother’s grave every day until he died, just to be close to her.”

  “Beauty may fade but the memory of it does not. I cannot speak for love. If I close my eyes I can vividly see the lion on the plains of Africa. If I had simply seen a lion in a book, I doubt I’d remember in vivid color or remember the majesty of the moment.”

  “Is that why you travel? Because you want to see everything in person so you’ll remember it?”

  He should have been warned by the tone of her voice. “Perhaps I’m more curious than others.”

  “Men are such visual creatures, especially where women are concerned. I’ve seen grown men become blubbering imbeciles from a glimpse of a lady’s ankle. When we came into the tavern earlier, every single man’s eyes, including your own, sought out the ample bosom of the serving wench, which was clearly on display. In order to get more tips, perhaps?” She sighed. “Women are very aware of how their bodies hold power over men. It’s about the only thing we have that most men would do anything to possess. You asked me what else I had heard about you, and this was most definitely not from my brother.”

  He knew what she would say before the words left her sweet mouth.

  “You like to watch people in the throes of passion. I have been wracking my brain as to why. Your lesson in taking me to see the Elgin Marbles may hold the key. Perhaps you cannot get aroused unless you can watch other couples?”

  She hesitated and he loved how clever her mind was. He had taken her to see the marbles to try and arouse her body or at least curiosity. From this conversation it was obvious he had succeeded with at least the latter.

  “If you come and sit on my lap I’ll demonstrate I do not need to watch others to be aroused. Simply being in your presence arouses me plenty.”

  Her face flushed with color and her breath hitched. “That won’t be necessary. I believe you. Then explain why you watch?”

  “I told you. I find passion beautiful. You see so much of a person when they are in the throes of desire. Most are open, vulnerable, honest; it’s very humbling to witness the giving and receiving of pleasure.”

  She merely nodded, considering his words. “It’s not, then, because you are going blind like your father, and as with the lions in Africa, you wish to imprint the act in your mind.”

  He almost choked on a piece of cheese he’d just popped into his mouth. Bloody hell! She had been investigating him. Not many knew his father had gone blind. They only knew he’d shot himself.

&nbs
p; “So it’s true. I can see it on your face. I suppose I can begin to understand your fascination with beauty. That’s why you wanted the Wilson landscape, so you could see the sunrise whenever you wanted, not just in the morning because soon you’ll never see the sun rise again.”

  There was no pity or gloating in her tone. She was simply stating the facts. He pushed his chair back from the table and wanted to flee but his legs would not move. Slowly, he sank back down. “How did you work out this fact, when even my friends have not?”

  “You stumbled twice at Burlington House. You would not, or was it could not, read the fine Latin print on the statue, and your face paled when I made a comment about ‘did you not see.’ ” She rose from her chair and moved around the table to stand beside him.

  He sat waiting like a speared goose. She did nothing for several minutes until he felt her hand in his hair. He briefly closed his eyes at her touch.

  “You have not seen, that for the past few minutes, I have been waving my hand near the side of your face.” She moved around to stand between his legs. “Yet you have no problem seeing me when I am standing in front of you.”

  He licked his lips and tried to get his dried mouth to work.

  She reached and cupped his face in her hand. “I understand you. I understand your actions. The painting is so you can look at the sunrise for as long as possible. What I don’t understand is having bid to win the painting, why you would decide to give it to me.”

  If she understood him, how could she not know? “Because once I’d seen you, the painting’s beauty was soon forgotten. All I wanted was to see every inch of you.”

  She stood staring at him, but not at his dying eyes. She studied his face.

  “I admire that about you. The honesty.”

  He gave what he hoped was a devastating smile. “Is that all you admire?”

  She laughed. “You are a handsome gentleman, I’ll give you that. I’m usually very wary of handsome devils.”

  “But?”

  “I don’t think you’d ever hurt me. Or do anything I did not like. You may love women—plural—but you also revere them because you find the female form beautiful.”

  He sat unmoving, waiting for her to give him permission to touch her. To his surprise she leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. Her lips moved gently and cautiously over his and he let her make all the moves. Just when he could no longer stop his lips from responding, just as he would have pressed his tongue forward to try and slip between her lush lips, she pulled back.

  Her breasts rose and fell rapidly and her eyes glinted with heat.

  “I think it has been a long day and I need my sleep.” She walked behind him to the door but paused before opening it. “I’m sorry you are losing your sight. I would not wish that upon anyone.”

  He didn’t need his eyes to know she’d left the room, for he could hear her dainty feet on the stairs. He realized his hands were still clenched into fists and he forced his muscles to relax.

  Someone knew his secret and he had no idea why she’d taken such interest in finding out the problem with his sight. He rolled his shoulders. It was true that once a spy always a spy. A spy would ask what she could do with the knowledge. He’d met opponents that gathered as much information about their enemy. It was always so they could use the information to their advantage. He could not quite work out what advantage this information gave Penelope.

  She asked him for his help in proving her innocence, which he’d freely given. Surely, she can’t be that worried about his attempt to seduce her. She’d freely given him a kiss.

  A shadow crept over his soul as if the grim reaper was beckoning. He didn’t like being surprised and he’d learned a lesson tonight. He had underestimated her. So focused on seduction, he had not stopped to look at who she really was.

  He could punch himself. She was not just a woman who’d survived a terrible marriage, but a lady who had managed to keep her wealth, as well, find a man who would help her prove she did not kill her husband, and now had quite astutely worked out that something was wrong with his sight.

  He moved and stood by the fire, leaning on the mantelpiece, finishing his brandy. He sighed as the idea of his secret being out in the open sank home. He would have to tell his mother as soon as possible, and talk with his sisters before word got out. He didn’t want them to learn of his issue from gossip.

  Perhaps he should have confessed his vision had become tunneled at Christmas, but he wanted Carole married before word got out. If Penelope could ascertain his father went blind, and now he was, too, then as soon as it became common knowledge others would too. It would inform the world that the Clevedon blood was tainted.

  Stephen berated himself. He should have made her promise not to tell anyone else until he could speak with his family. Surely, she would allow him that concession. He downed the rest of his brandy and made for the stairs. Hopefully, she wasn’t asleep yet.

  He didn’t stop to think what else drove him to seek her out at this time of night. When he got to her door he knocked. Got no response, not even her maid. She couldn’t have fallen asleep already? He knocked again and tried the door. To his annoyance it was unlocked. He would scold her maid to leave her so exposed to intruders in a tavern of all places.

  He slipped inside and the first thing he heard was splashing from behind a screen near the fire. She was bathing. His blood fired immediately and his eyes led him forward, wanting to feast on her nakedness. He only just restrained himself.

  He stopped on the other side of the screen and discreetly coughed.

  The splashing halted and a panicked voice asked, “Who is there?”

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, Penelope. I thought your maid would be here.”

  “I told her to go to bed.”

  He noted the first hint of alarm in her voice. “You must tell her to lock the door after her. Anyone could slip in here.”

  “I shall ensure I lock my door from now on. What do you want? The water won’t stay warm for long and I’d like some privacy.”

  He could not help it, he moved closer, his feet taking over his free will. He could just see through the gap where one of the screens was hinged. His body stirred as he saw the tops of her bountiful breasts, the nipples just below the waterline.

  His needs severely reined in, Stephen acknowledged that Lady Penelope, the daughter of a duke, was not what he’d expected. Carmichael’s treatment of her had not turned her into a timid mouse. Instead, she had become self-assured, quick-witted, observant, and insightful. And let’s not forget she was a very beautiful woman. Carmichael was a fool to throw her respect and admiration away, let alone her love. Would he want a woman to love him? Perhaps once, but not now. It would end so very badly. He could not bear a woman like Lady Penelope to be chained to a blind man.

  His words came out harsher than he wanted. “You don’t seem overly concerned that a man is in your room and you are sitting nude in a tub.”

  He could see her chin and mouth but not the rest of her face. Those luscious lips curved in a smile. “You would not force yourself on me. My brother came to see me before I left London. It seems you were quite the war hero, refusing to leave the Mediterranean until your friend, the Duke of Bedford, was found. You’d promised to return to England with the duke and when he was captured you would not leave. I heard you looked for two years and had to literally be dragged back to England on a royal command from Prinny. You see, I know once you give your word you keep it at any cost. You said you would not do anything I did not want, and I want you to stay on the other side of that screen. As you are a man of honor you will abide by my request.”

  Damn her. He had never had his honor so tested. He had to curl his toes in his boots to stop them from stepping even closer. “Then lock your bloody door.”

  Light laughter reached his ears. “What is it you want?”r />
  “I came to beg for a favor.”

  “Beg. Men like you do not beg.”

  She was wrong. He’d happily beg her to let him walk around this screen. “Perhaps there is a first time for everything.” That light chuckle again; he could listen to it all day. “Have you told anyone of my eyesight problem? I hope not. I would like you to give me time to inform my mother, and for my sister to wed before the news becomes fodder for the gossips.”

  He saw and heard her move. She rose from the bath and his eyes soaked in the water as it dripped down the soft curves he could see through his tiny gap. He saw her bend, obviously reaching for a towel.

  “I do not need you to cease your bathing.” But she was already coming around the screen, a robe wrapped tightly around her damp body.

  “No one knows?” she asked as she came to stand in front of him. She reached up and cupped his cheek with her hand, pity filling her eyes. “You have not shared your condition with anyone? You carry this burden all alone.”

  He wanted to bat her hand away while he turned from the pity flooding her eyes but his feet would not move. She looked so beautiful with her wet hair streaming down around her shoulders in silky waves of curls. She looked like a mermaid who’d just stepped out of the sea.

  He cleared his throat but did not move away. “There is no point telling anyone as that would not change the outcome and will only upset them.”

  Thankfully, her hand fell from his face, but worse, she stepped forward and embraced him in a tight hug. He understood she meant it to be consoling but his already aroused body roared to life. His arms did not need his brain to encourage them. They instinctively wrapped themselves around her soft curves evident beneath her thin, silk robe.

  “What have the physicians said? Is there no hope?”

  What did he tell her? That every specialist eye surgeon he had seen, and he had traveled throughout Europe to the best in their fields, had said he would continue to gradually lose his sight. What they could not tell him was if he would lose it altogether, but he assumed he would as why else would his father have killed himself. “The surgeons I have spoken to, and there have been many, told me there is an eye condition that tends to be seen in families and it’s likely that I will follow the path my father did. Gradual blindness.”