A Not So Respectable Gentleman?

by Diane Gaston

  No brandy this night. He wanted a clear head when he called upon Covendale first thing in the morning.

  Chapter Two

  ‘Do not walk so fast, Penny.’ Mariel Covendale came to an exasperated halt on the pavement.

  ‘Sorry, miss.’ Her maid returned to her with head bowed.

  Mariel sighed. ‘No, I am sorry. I did not mean to snap at you. It is merely that I am in no great rush to return home.’

  Penny, a petite but sturdy blonde, so pretty she would have been prime prey in any household with young sons about, looked at her softheartedly. ‘Whatever you wish, miss.’

  The maid deliberately slowed her steps. After a few minutes, she commented, ‘You did not find anything to purchase. Not even fabric for your bridal clothes.’ Penny sounded more disappointed than Mariel felt.

  Mariel smiled. ‘That is of no consequence.’

  In truth, she’d not cared enough to make a purchase. She’d merely wished to escape the house and her parents for time alone. Time to think. So she’d risen early and taken Penny with her to the shops. They’d browsed for hours.

  Penny’s brow furrowed. ‘I cannot help but worry for you, miss, the wedding so close and everything.’

  Too close, Mariel thought.

  They crossed Green Street and Penny pulled ahead again, but caught herself, turning back to Mariel with an apologetic glance.

  The girl was really a dear and so devoted that Mariel had been tempted to make her a confidante.

  Better to say nothing, though. Why burden her poor maid?

  Instead she gazed up at the sky, unusually blue and cloudless this fine spring day. Yesterday’s rains had washed the grey from London’s skies. Weather always improved if one merely has patience.

  Unfortunately Mariel saw only grey skies ahead for her. And she had no time for patience.

  For Penny’s sake, though, she forced her mood to brighten. ‘It is a lovely day, I must admit. That is reason enough to dally.’

  Penny gave her a quizzical look. ‘If you do not mind me saying, miss, you are so very at ease about everything, but it is only three weeks until your wedding, and you have no bridal dress or new clothes or anything.’

  So very at ease? That was amusing. Mariel must be a master of disguise if Penny thought her at ease. ‘I have many dresses. I’m sure to have enough to wear.’ She wanted no special bridal clothes. ‘If you like, tomorrow we can search for lace and trim to make one of my gowns more suitable for the ceremony.’

  It was as good an excuse as any to be out and about again and Penny was a creative seamstress.

  ‘We could do that, miss,’ the maid agreed.

  Coming from the shops on New Bond Street, they had meandered through Mayfair, passing by Grosvenor Square and the Rhedarium Gardens, but now they were within a short walk of the town house she shared with her parents.

  If this wedding were not looming over her, she’d be happily anticipating summer months in their country house in Twickenham. She missed her younger sisters, although it was good they had not been old enough for the London Season and all the pressures it brought. At twenty-three, Mariel had seen many Seasons, had many proposals of marriage.

  Only one mattered, though, but that proposal occurred when she’d been two years younger and foolish enough to believe in a man’s promises.

  Foolish enough for a broken heart.

  Luckily her powers of disguise had hidden the effect of that episode well enough. No one but her father ever knew about her secret betrothal. Or her heartbreak. She’d even trained herself not to think of it.

  Mariel’s throat constricted as they reached the corner of Hereford Street. She dreaded entering the house, facing her mother’s unabashed joy at her impending marriage and her father’s palpable relief.

  Her spirits sank lower and lower as she and Penny neared the end of the street.

  When they were within steps of the town house, its door opened and a man emerged.

  He turned towards them and the sun illuminated his face. ‘Mariel?’

  She froze.

  This man was the one person she thought never to see again, never wished to see again. He was the man to whom she’d been secretly betrothed, the man who had just inhabited her thoughts.

  The man who had deserted her.

  Leo Fitzmanning.

  He was as tall as ever, his hair as dark, his eyes that same enthralling hazel. His face had become leaner these last two years, more angular with tiny lines creasing the corners of his eyes.

  She straightened, hoping her ability to mask her emotions held strong.

  ‘Leo.’ She made her tone flat. ‘What a surprise.’

  His thick dark brows knitted. ‘I—I have come from your father. I called upon him.’

  ‘My father?’ Her voice rose in pitch. ‘Why on earth would you wish to see my father?’ She had not even known Leo was in London.

  He paused before closing the distance between them and his hazel eyes pleaded. ‘Will you walk with me?’

  She glanced over at Penny, who was raptly attending this encounter. Mariel forced herself to face him again. ‘I can think of no reason why I should.’

  He reached out and almost touched her. Even though his hand made no contact, she felt its heat. ‘Please, Mariel. Your father would not listen. I must speak with you. Not for my sake, but for yours.’

  For her sake?

  She ought to refuse. She ought to send him packing with a proper set-down. She ought to turn on her heel and walk into her house and leave him gaping in her wake.

  Instead she said, ‘Very well. But be brief.’

  He offered her his arm, but rather than accept it, she turned to Penny. ‘You must follow.’

  Leo frowned. ‘I need to speak with you alone.’

  Mariel lifted her chin. ‘Then speak softly so she does not hear, but do not ask me to go with you unchaperoned.’

  He nodded.

  They crossed Park Lane and entered Hyde Park through the Cumberland gate. The park was in its full glory, lush with greenery and flowers and chirping birds.

  He led her to one of the footpaths. It was too early in the afternoon for London society to gather in carriages and on horseback for the fashionable hour. The footpath was empty. Once Mariel would have relished finding a quiet place where they could be private for a few moments. She would have pretended that nothing existed in the world but the two of them. This day, however, it made her feel vulnerable. She was glad Penny walked a few steps behind them.

  Off the path was a bench, situated in an alcove surrounded by shrubbery, making it more secluded than the path itself.

  Leo gestured to the bench. ‘Please, sit.’

  ‘No.’ Mariel checked to make certain Penny remained nearby. ‘Speak to me here and be done with it.’

  He was so close she could smell the scent that was uniquely his, the scent that brought back too many memories. Of happy days when she’d contrived to meet Leo in this park. They’d strolled through its gardens and kindled their romance.

  He faced her again and she became acutely aware of the rhythm of his breathing and of the tension in his muscles as he stood before her. ‘I will be blunt, because I have not time to speak with more delicacy.’

  His tone surprised her.

  ‘Please do be blunt,’ she responded sarcastically.

  She wanted to remain cold to him. She wanted not to care about anything he wished to say to her.

  It was impossible.

  Amidst the grass and shrubs and trees, his eyes turned green as he looked down on her. ‘You must not marry Lord Kellford.’

  She was taken aback. ‘I am astonished you even know of my betrothal, let alone assume the right to speak of it.’

  He averted his gaze for a moment.
‘I know I have no right. I tried to explain to your father, but he failed to appreciate the seriousness of the situation.’

  She made a scornful laugh. ‘I assure you, my father takes this impending marriage very seriously. He is delighted at the match. Who would not be? Kellford is such a charming man.’

  His eyes flashed. ‘Kellford’s charm is illusory.’

  She lifted her chin. ‘Is it? Still, he meets my father’s approval.’

  He riveted her with his gaze again. ‘I tried to tell him the man Kellford is. Your father would not listen, but you must.’

  A frisson of anxiety prickled her spine. With difficulty, she remained steady. ‘If you have something to tell me about Kellford, say it now and be done with it.’

  He glanced away. ‘Believe me. I never would have chosen to speak this to you—’

  His words cut like a sabre. He preferred to avoid her? As if she’d not realised that already. He’d avoided her for two years.

  She folded her arms across her chest and pretended she did not feel like weeping. ‘Tell me, so you do not have to stay a moment longer than is tolerable.’

  His eyes darted back and flared with a heat she did not understand. ‘I will make it brief.’

  Mariel’s patience wore thin. ‘Please do.’

  His eyes pinned her once more. ‘What do you know of the Marquis de Sade?’

  Was he changing the subject? ‘I do not know the Marquis de Sade. What has he to do with Kellford?’

  He shifted. ‘You would not know him. And I suppose no gently bred young woman would have heard of him....’

  ‘Then why mention him?’ Why this roundaboutation? ‘Do you have a point to this?’

  ‘I dislike having to speak of it,’ he snapped.

  Enough. She turned to walk away.

  He caught her by the arm and pulled her back. Their gazes met and Mariel felt as if every nerve in her body had been set afire. She saw in his eyes that he, too, was affected by the touch.

  He released her immediately. ‘The Marquis de Sade wrote many...books, which detailed scandalous acts, acts he is said to have engaged in himself.’

  ‘Scandalous acts?’ Where was this leading?

  He nodded. ‘Between...between men and women.’ His eyes remained steady. ‘De Sade derived carnal pleasure from inflicting pain on women. It was his way of satisfying manly desires.’

  Mariel’s cheeks burned. No man—not even Leo—had spoken to her of such matters before. ‘I do not understand.’

  He went on. ‘For some men the pleasure that should come...in the normal way...only comes if they cause the woman pain.’

  She’d heard that lovemaking—at least the first time—could be painful, but he didn’t seem to be talking about that. ‘What pain?’

  He did not waver. ‘Some men use whips. Some burn with hot pokers. Others merely use their fists.’ His cheek twitched. ‘Sometimes the woman is bound by ropes or chains. Sometimes she is deprived of food or water.’

  Her stomach roiled. ‘Why do you say this to me?’

  His features twisted in pain. ‘Because Lord Kellford has boasted of such predilections. Because I have heard accounts about him. I have seen him use a whip—’

  An icy wind swept through her. ‘That is the information you needed to give me?’

  ‘Yes.’ His voice deepened. ‘That is it.’

  She glanced over at Penny, whose expression reflected the horror Mariel felt inside. Penny had heard it all.

  Mariel had known Kellford to be a greedy, calculating man hiding behind a veneer of charm. Now she discovered he was depraved as well and that he would likely torture her. Hers would not merely be a wretched marriage, it would be a nightmare.

  She turned from Leo and started to walk away.

  Again he seized her, this time holding her with both his hands, making her face him, leaning down so he was inches from her face. ‘You cannot marry him, Mariel. You cannot!’

  He released her and she backed away from him, shaking her head, anger rising inside her like molten lava.

  It was easier to be angry, much easier than feeling terror and despair. She fed the anger, like one fed a funeral pyre.

  Why had Leo saddled her with this appalling information? Did he think it a kind gesture? A worthy errand? Would he depart from this lovely park feeling all self-righteous and noble? Might he even pretend this atoned for disappearing from her life and breaking her heart?

  He had walked away from her without a word, as if she’d been nothing to him, and now he burdened her with this?

  She felt ready to explode.

  ‘Do you think you have helped me?’ Her voice shook.

  He seemed taken aback. ‘Yes, of course. You can cry off. It is not too late.’

  She gave him a scornful laugh. ‘I can cry off.’ Suddenly she advanced on him, coming so close she felt his breath on her face. ‘You understand nothing, Leo.’ Let him feel the impact of her wrath. ‘I have to marry Kellford. Do you hear me? I have no choice.’

  She swung around and strode off.

  ‘What do you mean you have no choice?’ he called after her. ‘Mariel!’

  She did not answer. She did not stop. She did not look back. She did not even look back to see if Penny followed. She rushed down the path and out of the park. Hurrying across Park Lane, she did not stop until she reached the door to her town house.

  Out of breath, she leaned her forehead against the door and waited for Penny to catch up.

  To herself she said, ‘I have no choice, Leo. No choice at all.’

  Chapter Three

  Leo watched Mariel flee from him. Seeing her had shaken him more than he cared to admit. Her ginger-coloured eyes fascinated him as much as they’d done two years before. His fingers still itched to touch the chestnut hair, peeking from beneath her bonnet. And her lips? It had been all he could do to not taste of them once again.

  He thought he’d banished her image from his mind, but the full glory of her flooded back to him. Her eyes sparkling with delight. Her smile lighting up his very soul. Had that all been illusion? She certainly seemed to find his presence distasteful to her now. Had she merely been pretending all that time ago?

  It was a question that had once kept him awake at night and consumed his days. Finally he’d pushed it aside so well he’d thought he’d forgotten. One glimpse of her brought everything back.

  But his emotions were not at issue here. No matter her feelings towards him, she must not marry Kellford.

  Her words still rang in his ears. I have to marry Kellford. Do you hear me? I have no choice.

  What did she mean no choice? Had Kellford compromised her? Good God, had the man already forced himself on her?

  All manner of circumstances came to Leo’s mind as he finally walked out of the park. He’d supposed this task relatively simple to discharge. Unpleasant, but simple. Merely call upon her father and warn him about Kellford and that would be the end of it. Cecil Covendale had not been pleased to see him; in fact, he’d been surly, as if he’d wished he could toss Leo out on his ear. Leo had minced no words. He’d explained precisely what Mariel faced if marrying Kellford. Covendale accused him of spreading falsehoods, ordered him to leave and never return.

  Mariel had not assumed they were falsehoods, though. She’d believed him and still declared she must marry Kellford.

  He must speak with her again, learn why she felt compelled to marry at all. She was only two years away from inheriting her fortune outright. It was madness for her to marry, let alone marry Kellford.

  He crossed over to Hereford Street and glanced at Mariel’s town house as he passed. Perhaps he should knock on the door again and insist she see him right now.

  No. Her father would forbid him admittance. Leo needed to find some place wher
e he might catch her alone and off guard.

  The problem was, she did not attend the sorts of places that he frequented of late. Gaming hells. Taverns. Dank and dismal rooms in the Rookerie with Walker and the shipping partners. Mariel attended society functions, called upon society friends. With his newly acquired reputation, Leo was on no one’s invitation list and would be an even more unwelcome caller.

  He knew precisely how to rectify that problem, although it was a step he detested making. His brother Nicholas could get him invited anywhere. Who would refuse such a request of a duke? Nicholas would agree. As always, Nicholas would be delighted to help his bastard brother.

  Leo walked the short distance to the ducal residence on Park Street. His knock was answered by a footman whom he did not recognise. The man’s brows rose.

  ‘Please tell his Grace his brother Leo desires a few moments of his time.’ Leo handed the man his hat and gloves.

  ‘I will see if his Grace is available.’ The footman gestured to the drawing room off the hall. ‘If you would care to wait...’

  Leo strode into the drawing room, a room transformed from the gold-gilt furniture and rich brocades of his childhood into something warmer and more welcoming. The new duchess’s influence, no doubt. Too fired up to sit, he wandered the room, noticing that the clock and some of the porcelain figurines were relics from his childhood.

  As children they had not stayed in the Mayfair residence often, so it always had been a special treat. It had also been a place Leo had not felt at ease. He used to think about all the dukes and duchesses who’d once graced these rooms, including Nicholas and Stephen’s mother. He wondered how she must have felt, knowing this house was sometimes occupied by her rival, Leo’s mother, and her illegitimate children.

  The footman appeared in the doorway. ‘His Grace will see you now.’

  Leo followed the man up the marble staircase to another more private drawing room, one where the girls had been allowed to practise the piano and where they all played at skittles.

  Nicholas and his wife approached Leo as he entered the room.

  ‘Leo! I hope this means you have had a change of heart.’ Nicholas’s tone, as always, was welcoming.