Married To A Marquess

by Joyce Alec

  “You are an incorrigible flirt.”

  “And what of it?” he retorted, sounding somewhat annoyed. “That has done no harm, has it? It is just a game, a distraction, from the difficulties of my life.”

  She spun on her heel and stared at him, her fingers itching to slap him across the face. “Difficulties?” she ground out, her jaw clenching. “And what difficulties might a man of your standing have, pray tell? From what I have been told, the only difficulties you have are how to safely return to your home when you have imbibed so much that you cannot even stand up.”

  His brow furrowed, his eyes darkening in the gloom as he stared back at her. “I am simply distracting myself from what I have done,” he said, quietly. “From what I have allowed others to force me into. Is that so terrible?”

  Alice raised her chin, forcing herself to think before she spoke. She desired more than anything to tell him who she really was so that he might wilt before her eyes, aware that she knew precisely of what he spoke and found the idea that he considered her a ‘difficulty’ to be more than insulting.

  Yet, if she did that now, she would never bring the shame on him that she had planned. It would simply remain between him and her, instead of all of society becoming aware of exactly what he had done to her. She was aware that there were a great many in society who were not quite sure whether Lord Worthington was bound in matrimony or, if he had, whether or not his wife still lived. Given that he lived as a man who was completely unattached, Alice could not blame those who saw him for suggesting such things.

  “I believe that distracting oneself is a cowardly attempt to pretend you do not truly have any kind of responsibilities,” she said, slowly, thinking out each sentence before she said it. “It is a pretense that you have not acted in a certain way in the past and a continued charade that you are not bound by those actions.” Looking straight into his eyes, she settled her shoulders and lifted her chin a notch. “You can understand, then, why I do not wish for your attentions.”

  To her surprise, he let out a harsh laugh. “But you are equally pretending, Lady Emma.”

  “I certainly am not,” she blustered, knowing full well that he was speaking the truth, although he was not aware of it.

  “You are, my dear lady,” he continued, ignoring her protest. “I have seen your eyes on me as I escorted other ladies to the dance floor. I have caught you watching me, although you always just look away before my eyes meet yours.” He stepped closer, and Alice instinctively moved back, feeling her back pressed against the railing of the terrace.

  “Tell me the truth, Lady Emma,” he murmured, reaching up to catch her chin with his hand. “Tell me honestly that you do not want my attentions.”

  “I do not want your attentions,” Alice responded, immediately, her skin prickling under his touch. “If you must know, the only reason I have been watching you is because I have been entirely horrified with what I have heard of you and wanted to see whether or not it was true.” She closed her eyes briefly and swallowed hard, before looking back up at him. “And now I have seen that it is exactly as everyone says.”

  No matter how hard she glared at him, he did not drop his hand from her chin, instead letting his fingers trail up over her jawline and towards her ear, where he caught a stray curl and ran it through his fingers. Alice battled against the sudden urge to respond to him, knowing that he was simply attempting to make his point. He wanted to show her that she truly did want his attentions on her, that, in watching him, she was jealous of the time he gave to the other ladies. If only he knew the truth of who she was.

  “You must not believe everything you hear, Lady Emma,” he murmured, moving a fraction closer to her and putting one hand on the railing behind her. He was so close to her that there was simply no means of escape, not unless she pushed at him hard and, for whatever reason, Alice was struggling to even think clearly. His breath tickled her cheek as he lowered his head, his other hand capturing her chin once more and tilting it towards him.

  “I am a terrible flirt, that I will admit to,” he promised her, his eyes searching hers. “But I swear to you that I do not steal kisses from young ladies or put them in any kind of compromising position.”

  Alice took a breath, trying to steady herself. “Then what exactly do you call this, Lord Worthington?”

  He laughed softly, rubbing his thumb lightly over her bottom lip. “I call it a game, Lady Emma. You intrigue me.”

  She wanted the game to be over. She longed for a husband who cared about her and wanted to be with her. For just a moment, her guard came down. She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand as he cupped her cheek, and she placed her own hand over his. Her heart rate quickened, responding to his touch. She opened her eyes to see him staring back at her with a look of fondness, and he smirked as if he knew he could win her affection.

  Quickly, she regained her composure. He would not win this game. Without warning, she pushed past him, staggering forward as he stumbled back.

  “How dare you?” she exclaimed, horrified to find that her eyes were filling with tears. “How dare you press your attentions on me when I have not given you permission to do so! By keeping me out here, you have put me in a compromising position. You know how important it is to ladies that our reputations remain pristine.”

  The satisfied smile on his face heated her anger all the more and, raising her hand, she slapped him soundly across the face, shocking him entirely.

  “I am not some pawn in your chess game, Lord Worthington!” she cried, feeling moisture drip from her lashes onto her cheeks. She was completely and utterly ashamed of how easily she had slipped under his spell, her mask slipped away almost entirely. “And to think that I had hoped the rumors would not be true.”

  Wiping her cheeks, she stalked past into the ballroom, her back ramrod straight but her self-esteem in tatters at her feet.

  Chapter Six

  Thankfully for Alice, most of the other guests had already gone through to supper when she had left the ball. She had not spoken to a single other soul, except for the surprised footman who had called for her carriage at once. She had asked him to pass on a message to her host and was back home within an hour of leaving Lord Worthington.

  From there, she had attempted to put every thought of him from her mind but, even now, when dawn was beginning to break, Alice still found herself tossing and turning. She could not get his behavior towards her from her mind, could not forget how her heart raced when he had touched her.

  Tears soaked the pillow as she wept, crying over her own foolishness and her lack of sense. He had sworn to her that he was not a man who stole kisses from ladies, but it seemed that his actions were moving in that direction - and he had called it ‘a game.’ That insult pierced the very heart of her, bringing her more pain that she had ever thought possible. Her own husband, the biggest flirt London had ever seen by all accounts, had made his interest in her apparent. He did not know she was his wife.

  Why had she responded to him so? She had been unable to stop herself from reacting to his nearness, recalling the way he had rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. She had come alive in that moment, his actions sparking feelings she had never before experienced. Was this what desire felt like?

  If that was what she felt, Alice despised it all the more. She did not want to have any kind of affection or desire for the man she called husband. The memory of his touch and the affection in his eyes brought her only sadness, completely ashamed over how she had responded to his attentions. Her facade had been entirely lost, for now, he would not see her as the strong, dispassionate lady who cared nothing for him, rather he would see her as a conquest. He had managed to force her to respond to him, proving to them both that she was not as unaffected by him as she appeared.

  “You do look pale this morning, my lady,” the maid said, worriedly, handing Alice her breakfast tray of a cup of chocolate and some hot, buttered toast. “Should I send for the doctor?”

  Alice gave her a
wan smile. “I am just tired, that is all.”

  The maid nodded, although the frown did not leave her face. “Perhaps you might rest for a while longer?”

  “I think I shall,” Alice murmured, quietly. “Although I am to visit Lady Astor tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Then you should certainly make sure to rest today,” the maid replied, patting Alice’s hand. “Just ring if you need anything, my lady.”

  Alice nodded, picking up a piece of toast in an attempt to eat. “I shall, I thank you.”

  The maid left, unaware of just how much of a balm she had been to Alice’s soul. It was just as well that her parents’ townhouse retained a skeleton staff whom Alice had known for some time, for they were more than willing to go along with any and all plans that she had. They were kind to her, apparently aware of what circumstances she had been left in, and Alice knew that she could trust no rumors about her true identity would make their way from this house. At least, here, she could hide from her husband in peace.

  ***

  “Alice!”

  Madeline’s face was filled with concern as Alice entered the room, rising to her feet to catch Alice’s hands. “Are you well? I have not heard from you for two days!”

  Alice managed a smile. “It is hardly two days, Madeline. I saw you at the ball two nights ago.”

  “And it is now two days since then,” Madeline retorted, searching Alice’s face. “What has happened to you, my dear?”

  Desperately hoping that she would not cry, Alice shook her head. “I am too ashamed to tell you.”

  Madeline’s shoulders slumped. “Ah. It is to do with that husband of yours, is it not?” She pulled the bell for tea and guided Alice to sit down beside the fire. “What did he do?”

  “Did you not see him after supper?” Alice asked, a little surprised that he had not been crowing with delight for the remainder of the evening.

  Shaking her head, Madeline studied Alice curiously. “No, I did not. He took his leave soon after supper.”

  “Oh.” Frowning, Alice wondered what had possessed Lord Worthington to leave so hastily. “Perhaps my slap damaged his perfectly presented face somewhat.”

  Madeline’s gasp met her ears, although her eyes came alive with interest. “You slapped him? Whatever for?”

  Knowing that she would have to tell her friend, and thinking that perhaps it might lift some of her burdens, Alice quickly sketched out the details, the words tumbling from her mouth.

  “How did you respond when he touched you?” Madeline asked, sounding quite astonished. “Did you slap him then?”

  Heat poured into Alice’s face. “Not at first, and that is something I truly regret. It took me a few moments to realize what it was he had said to me. In truth, I became a little lost and fell to his charms. Then, when I realized he did not I was his wife, I slapped him. How could he do that?”

  Madeline’s face took on a knowing look, and she grasped Alice’s hand. “Do not torment yourself over this, Alice. It is to be expected.”

  “Expected?” Alice exclaimed, angry with herself all over again. “The man I despise took his fondness for me too far, and I responded like some flighty young miss who is overawed by his attentions. I truly believe that he was going to try to kiss me!” She wrung her hands. “You should have seen the look on his face when I pushed him away.” She swallowed hard, hating the memory of it. “He was laughing at me.”

  “Oh, Alice,” Madeline murmured, softly. “I am sorry that he did such a thing.”

  “I cannot see him again,” Alice said, brokenly. “He has won, Madeline.”

  Madeline’s wrath was immediate. “Don’t be ridiculous, Alice! You cannot simply return to the country and give up on your plans just because it seems as if he was going to kiss you!”

  “How can I not?” Alice returned, miserably. “I am no longer the strong, aloof lady that is unaffected by his advances. My facade has failed entirely.”

  “Nonsense,” Madeline said loudly, forcing Alice’s attention. “You cannot give up now, Alice. I will not have it! I have seen you blossom under this ‘facade’ as you call it — although I am quite sure that this is simply someone you are becoming instead of someone you pretend to be.”

  Sniffing indelicately, Alice looked at her friend. “What do you mean?”

  Madeline’s gaze was resolute. “You state that you are merely pretending to be Lady Emma, who is both a strong and self-reliant lady, refusing to be swayed by a charming smile or flattering words.” Her expression softened as she smiled. “Can you not see that this is no longer a pretense, Alice? You are Lady Emma Taylor.”

  Still a little confused, Alice frowned. “That is just a mask, Madeline.”

  “No, it is not,” Madeline returned at once. “You are strong. You are self-reliant. Think of it, Alice. You have grown weary of your husband’s inattention and have returned to London of your own accord, having found and arranged both travel and lodgings, albeit your parents’ townhouse. You have attended balls and soirees and never once given a girlish smile to any young gentleman who might seek to flatter you.”

  “That is because I find such things entirely void of both truth and meaning,” Alice murmured quietly. “I know that some gentlemen have an interest in me, which is the only reason for their attentions. I am not here to find a husband!” Heat crept into her cheeks at speaking so plainly, but Madeline only nodded.

  “You see, my dear?” she said, happily. “You are the kind of person you have always wanted to be. In taking on the characteristics of Lady Emma, which you considered only a disguise, you have, in short, become such a lady yourself.” She leaned forward and touched Alice’s hand. “Which means that you cannot allow Lord Worthington, the rogue that he is, to affect your strength and dignity.”

  Alice sighed, her lips trembling as she struggled to respond to Madeline. Finally, she understood what her friend was saying, but still could not see a way ahead. Thankfully, the arrival of the tea tray gave her some minutes to compose herself.

  “I know you are worried that he will think of you as a conquest,” Madeline continued, sitting back in her seat as the maid left the room. “But you must have given him something of a resounding setback for him to have left the ball so early. For him to depart a gathering without even taking in supper is unheard of, I assure you.”

  Alice bit her lip and thought hard. She realized now that leaving London and returning to the country estate was simply a desire to run away from what she had started, finding it almost too much to bear.

  “I do not like that I responded to him so,” she admitted as Madeline poured the tea. “I should have pushed him away at once.”

  Madeline gave a slight shrug, as though what Alice had said was not at all perturbing. “You are attracted to your husband, Alice. What does that matter?”

  “I do not want to be.”

  Laughing, Madeline shook her head. “I am afraid we do not always have a choice when it comes to matters of the heart. You shall simply have to fight that inward battle on your own.”

  It was a relief to be able to share her torment with her friend, Alice admitted to herself, finally relaxing a little in her chair.

  “So, shall you stay?” Madeline asked, looking at her from over the top of her teacup.

  Alice frowned. “I shall take a few days to gather my wits about me once more, but yes, I believe I shall stay and see this thing through to the end.”

  Madeline raised her teacup slightly, in a small toast. “I am delighted to hear it.”

  Chapter Seven

  Over the next three days, Alice rested both her mind and her body, staying abed longer than she ought and refusing to go out into society at all. Invitations were declined, politely of course, whilst Alice considered what she might do the next time she saw her husband.

  Madeline, on the whole, left her alone, although she did send a note to say that Lord Worthington had been at a musical evening she had attended and had appeared perturbed to discover Lady Emma�
�s absence. She then wrote again the following day to announce that Lord Worthington had sought her out again the previous evening at a coming out ball for a Miss Mary Dewley.

  Apparently, he had been most keen to discover whether or not Lady Emma was present and had frowned for a good few minutes on discovering her absent once again.

  Such notes did not bring any kind of peace to Alice’s spirits, finding herself even more confused over her husband. Surely, now that he had proven to them both that she was not as unaffected as she appeared, he would consider his task completed. So why was he still seeking out her company? Why did he seem so disconcerted to discover her absent? It made very little sense. For her own self, she was finding it impossible to remove him from her thoughts despite her own deep humiliation.

  It was distasteful to her to admit that she found her own husband an attractive man, even worse to say that she did catch herself, on occasion, recalling his touch. She put it down to having never experienced such a thing before, even though in her heart, she knew it was more than that. After all, he was her husband, even though he did not act as a married man ought.

  And so, after three days, Alice found herself more than ready to leave her townhouse and find the company of her friends. Madeline and Catherine, both of whom were, apparently, concerned for her, had invited her to join them for afternoon tea, and Alice was keen to join them. After all, leaving the safety of her home and making her way to Madeline’s townhouse was not going to put her in any danger of seeing Lord Worthington now, was it?

  Her friends greeted her with enthusiasm and delight, which was a comfort to Alice’s soul. Neither of them held any kind of reproach in their gaze, pressing her hands and encouraging her to sit down so that they might discuss all the goings on of late.

  “How have you been, my dear?” Madeline asked, the moment Alice seated herself. “I have been worried about you.”