A Tarnished Heart

by Leslie Dicken

  It all made perfect sense now. Those confusing puzzle pieces that wouldn’t quite fit suddenly slammed into place.

  Mama knew about the blackmail which would be in her future. There was no premonition of a fairytale love between a vicar’s daughter and an earl. Her mother merely told her what lay in her future.

  It really was her mother’s painting hanging at Woodsley Park. Probably before Lizzie was even born, her parents gave it to Markham’s father, perhaps as part of a dowry. It connected the two families, a reminder of the blackmail threat hovering between them.

  Yes, it made sense now. Markham pursued her to keep his fortune and title. She meant nothing to him other than the means to an end. He did not love her.

  She must be away from him.

  The shimmering gold inlay on the ceiling mocked Lizzie as she fled. She didn’t belong here. She belonged with the only family she had left. Why had she let herself be swayed from that wisdom?

  Lizzie raced up the flight of oak stairs seeking the solitude in her bedchamber. Though no sanctuary awaited for her there. Only home. Only her room with its view of her garden, its worn chests and tattered carpet could soothe her soul.

  The sound of footsteps echoed behind her. Markham was following her. To what purpose? Nothing he could say could repair the damage he had done.

  She bunched her skirts higher, racing faster to her door. The scent of fresh linens and cut flowers welcomed her as she turned to slam the door.

  But an arm blocked the closure. “Ow!” Markham howled.

  “Leave me. I do not want to hear what you have to say.”

  He pushed the door open and stood before her, his height towering over her like an unbendable tree. Heated, black eyes glared at her, his cheeks ruddy from the chase.

  Lizzie bit her lip and stared back. Bloody bastard.

  He pushed the door closed and turned the key in the lock. It was the first time they were alone in a bedchamber in this house. Though it was not love that he sought, but more ways to break her heart.

  “Have your say but do it as I pack.”

  Markham continued to stare, saying nothing. Lizzie turned to seek the few items she had brought from home.

  Without warning a powerful hand clamped on her arm. Markham swung her back to face him, crushing her to his chest. There was no time to resist before he closed his mouth over hers.

  All anguish and rage fled.

  Like a docile chick, she relaxed in his embrace, tasting his lips like she had this morning. His cracked moan fractured the silence. Warm hands pressed against her back then tangled themselves within her hair.

  Tongues dancing, Lizzie wanted to believe this would not be their last kiss. She wanted to lie with him each night, to feel protected yet alive within his embrace.

  Markham’s arousal, hard against her stomach, prompted traitorous reactions. Heat seared between her legs, her nipples hardened, ached to be touched. She wanted him. More than he might want her.

  For Markham, there would be others. As a man, he could satisfy his desires at any time with whoever agreed to share his bed. She would not have the same freedom. Now deflowered, Lizzie would not find a husband. No other man would love her.

  She was ruined. All for believing in a dream offered to her by those who claimed to love her.

  She turned her face, shattered. “Please leave. Why must you torture me so?”

  He said nothing, but his labored breathing matched the frantic beat of her heart.

  Lizzie broke free of his arms, cold emptiness replacing the warmth of his touch. She crossed to the other side of the room.

  “How can I make you understand?” he said at last.

  “Why try?” She gathered some books from a drawer.

  “No one meant to hurt you, Miss Parker.”

  She started to correct her name but snapped her jaw shut. There was no use in that now. No use to anything.

  “Your father only wanted a better life for you.”

  “How gracious of him. And you?” She glanced over her shoulder at him. His hair was scattered, his eyes both wild and desperate. Seeing the evidence of vulnerability, she nearly fell for him again. But she gathered her common sense. “You only sought to save yourself, yes?”

  His stare pinned her, a muscle ticking angrily on his jaw. “You have no idea what it has been like for me. To realize you are living a lie. And then have to worry for your son’s future.”

  Compassion softened her. Of course he would do whatever necessary for his son. But why could no one tell of this from the beginning? Why not just arrange the marriage and not involve her heart?

  Lizzie slammed the drawer closed and moved from his reach. He was too tempting, too easy to fall into a trap of offering him anything to remain as his lover.

  “I never meant anything to you. I was only a sport, a challenge to win my heart when all along you knew you would marry me anyway.”

  “You don’t understand. Your father insisted I court you, have you fall in love with me. He did not want to arrange it, to have it be a marriage in name only.”

  Tears stung her eyes again. “But it would have been in name only. You don’t love me.”

  Markham sighed, his voice breaking. “How can I ever love after what I have lost?”

  Instead of sympathy, anger choked her. “I have lost too—my mother and Rachel. And yet I can still feel, still love another. Don’t you love your son?”

  His eyes blazed. “Lucas is everything to me.”

  But she was nothing to him. Just a means to an end.

  She must leave, get as far away from him as possible. It would mean failing the Long family. There was no way to get over to see them. No way to give them word of her ill father.

  The burning sob rose again in her throat. This time she would not be able to suppress it for long.

  Lizzie pressed her hand to her stomach. “I’ve asked you to leave me, Markham, can you not abide by my wish?”

  “Miss Parker…Lizzie” The pain in his voice surprised her and yet it wasn’t enough to undo the lies he told, the things he would not say.

  Though it took every ounce of willpower she possessed, Lizzie refused to take a last look at Markham. He could undo her with a mere wink and bowed lip. “My name is Lizzie. And the fact that you cannot say it, only proves that you do not truly love me.

  “Please,” her voice faltered and she swallowed. She would not allow him to pity her tears. Lizzie tried again, “Please go. I cannot bear to see you again.”

  “Very well,” Markham sighed.

  Then, he was gone. And she was alone.

  So Lizzie was returning home unengaged just as she planned from the start. Who would ever guess that victory would cost her everything?

  Pulse galloping like a horse on a hunt, Markham stared at the stuffed fox on the mantel. The coat still gleamed red, the sun sparkling on parts of the fur.

  Brilliant and vivid red hair, reminiscent of his spirited Lizzie.

  Hell. He should feel immense relief. The weight on his shoulders had been lifted. Although Edmund knew the truth, there did not seem to be any issue or threat. His life could return to normal.

  And yet what he felt was a hollow ache. Miss Parker was gone. She’d discovered the truth, realized he could not love her, and she walked out of his life forever.

  Markham dropped his head into his hands, swallowing the scorching pain in his throat. He should be celebrating. Instead he only wanted to collapse.

  A knock sounded on the door. “I am not to be disturbed,” he called.

  “I apologize, my lord,” his butler replied. “But your visitor is rather insistent upon seeing you.”

  “Who is it?”

  “The Marchioness of Fallston, my lord.”

  Aggravation flared in his blood. Lady Fallston was quite possibly the last person he wanted to see at this moment. “Send her away.”

  “She insists it is urgent.”

  Markham sighed. Everything to Lucinda was urgent. He would have t
o face her eventually. He might as well get it over with. “Very well then. I’ll receive her in here.”

  “Yes, my lord.” And the butler’s footsteps retreated.

  Markham straightened his clothes as best as possible and smoothed his hair, the habit long since ingrained in him.

  Another rap on the door and then it swung open. Lucinda, dressed in an expensive barrage of silver stripes and white lace, clicked the door shut behind her. She approached with a wicked grin and a vindictive glint in her eyes. “Evan, darling. It’s so lovely to see you.”

  “Get out, Lady Fallston.” He swallowed, but his pulse would not calm. He couldn’t be bothered by her attentions now and yet her posture, her demeanor, her very walk warned him of impending doom.

  Her silver blonde hair, twisted and curled on her head, glimmered in the otherwise masculine room. She moved forward, the smirk never leaving her face, until she stood within inches of him. His body screamed to move away from her, but he would not. He would never let her have power over him.

  “No, Evan.” Lucinda trailed a gloved finger down his arm. “I am not leaving. You and I have something to discuss.”

  Markham clenched his teeth. “We’ve been through this more times than I wish to count. There will be no affair.”

  Her cool blue eyes softened with a snicker. “Ah, yes, you think you are marrying that country girl Miss Parker.”

  His heart dropped. No, he was no longer marrying her. She wouldn’t have him anymore. All along she wanted to return home to look after her father and take care of the villagers. Her wish had been granted. In the worst way possible.

  Lucinda cupped his face. “You are mine now, Evan. Mine.” She bent forward and planted her lips on his, trying to force her tongue inside.

  Stomach cramping, a bitter taste flooded his mouth. He didn’t want her. Not any part of her.

  Markham broke free and stepped back, wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “Get out.”

  But she only laughed. “I’ll have that kiss from you. I’ll have that and more.”

  “You’ll have nothing. You are not welcome here.” He turned his back on her and sorted aimlessly through some papers.

  Her hand slid up his coat and caressed his bottom. Were it Lizzie, he’d turn and pull her against him. But only distaste twisted in his gut.

  “Jumpy, are we?” Lucinda chuckled by his ear.

  “What do you want?” Markham extracted himself from her clutches again and moved around to the other side of the desk. “Do state your business, Lady Fallston, and then move on.”

  The woman lifted her chin and arched an eyebrow. “Very well. My business is the same as it has been. Marry Lady Harriet. Renew an affair with me.”

  He sighed. This woman was worse than a hound on a bone. “We’ve gone over this.”

  “But things have changed.”

  Markham’s heart began a slow beat against his ribs. It was nothing. Nothing. He cleared his throat. “Good day, Lady—”

  “I know your secret.”

  Secret. Lucinda couldn’t know—how was it possible…?

  Markham lifted a shoulder and returned his attentions to the papers. “I’ve no idea what you are talking about.”

  She placed her palms on the desk surface and leaned forward. “I know what you are hiding. I know about your birth.”

  Heat exploded through his body in an agonizing burst. He felt dizzy, but sheer willpower kept him from swaying. His lungs tightened until he had to force himself to breathe.

  How the Devil did Lucinda know?

  “Ah, Evan, don’t you see? This is a good thing. Now the country vicar is incapable of holding you to his bribe, you are free to do as you please. There is no need to marry a girl so wrong for you.”

  A girl so wrong for you. Two months ago he had thought the same thing. But now he’d changed. Lizzie had opened his eyes, she’d brought color into his life, she gave him an exhilaration he never knew possible.

  But now she was gone. All for that bloody blackmail.

  “How…?” He gasped for air. “How do you know?”

  Lucinda smiled and sat in one of the chairs with a grand sweep of her skirts, as if she were the queen herself. “A determined woman finds a way.”

  Shock transformed to anger. “How?”

  “Someone found the answers I sought.”

  Damn her. He leaned across the desk, papers scattered to the floor. “Who? Edmund Greene?”

  Undaunted, she raised her eyebrows. “Temper, temper. I’ve never seen you lose control of your temper.” She shrugged and fiddled with her gloves. “Yes, it was he, if you must know.”

  Markham sank back into the chair, pulse roaring in his ears. The bitter taste had not left him but his mouth was too dry to swallow. He ached for a sip of whisky, but he couldn’t move.

  Frozen, he gathered his senses, reigning in the lapse of control. He could handle this. “So you are here to blackmail me in place of the reverend?”

  Her attempt at an innocent chuckle did not amuse him. “Blackmail? Evan, really. That’s such a nasty word. You should be thrilled. Miss Parker was never right for you.”

  “She’s gone.”

  Her eyes widened as a smile curled her upper lip. “Then all is as it should be. Now you can pursue the life you were meant to have, enjoy the women best suited to you.”

  Markham unclenched his jaw. “I make my own choices, Lady Fallston.”

  “Call me Lucinda again.” Her seductive grin did not match the steel in her gaze. “But I now control your choices.”

  “Or?”

  “Or news of your bastard birth will spread faster than a fresh wave of cholera.”

  So he would only trade masters? No. He could not bear it again. “Go. This conversation is over.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You think me a fool? I will do what I must.”

  Markham slammed his fist down on the desk. “Why? Why is it you pursue me with such vigor? I cannot offer you marriage or more money. You can find another lover. What do you want from me?”

  “A baby.” she blurted. “I want your child. My husband cannot give me one and I will not be seen as barren.”

  A chill crept over his skin. She wanted him to give her a child. A son, like Lucas, raised by this witch? Never would he agree to such a thing.

  Lucinda’s gloved hand touched his fingers. “We meant something to each other once. It seemed right that you be the father of my child.”

  Markham snatched his hand away. He was already the father of a child. A boy who looked up to him, who wanted to emulate him. For months, Markham had accepted the Reverend Parker’s bribe to be certain Lucas had the title he deserved, but what kind of a man did that make him? To take on Lucinda’s demands would make him even more cowardly and weak. Lucas needed a father who would do what was right and not allow another to master him.

  Relief surged through him with a heavy sigh. He was a free man. From now on, he was his own master, no matter what the cost.

  “Do what you must, Lady Fallston. I’ll not be a party to your plans.”

  “I can ruin you.” Her voice rose to a shrill. “You know that I can.”

  “Do your worst. I will accept whatever consequences may follow.”

  Lucinda stamped her foot. “But what of your son? He will have nothing.”

  Markham sat in his desk chair. “My son will see that his father is a man of integrity and courage. That is more important than his title.”

  “You can’t do this.”

  “I most certainly can.” He saw her cheeks redden, her eyes glaze in fury. “Now, be on your way or I will have you forcibly removed.”

  “You’ll regret this.”

  “Perhaps.” He shrugged. “But remember I can always counter your story with one of my own. The gossips would love to hear about your attempt to dupe your sterile husband.”

  Lucinda gasped and stumbled away from him to the door. “You wouldn’t…”

  Markham signed a few documents befor
e him. Without looking up, he said, “You have a month to find Lady Harriet another prospect. I suggest you be on your way.”

  The door opened and slammed shut without another word from her.

  Finally Markham was free from the demands and pressures of another. He could go back to the way things were only a few months ago and live his life in the same manner. And yet it wouldn’t be possible.

  He was not the same man as before. And now he felt more alone than ever.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Lizzie hammered in the final nail. At last, the blasted fence was complete and the chickens could no longer raid the kitchen garden. A breeze stirred the air with the scent of blooming roses. The reminders of Markham’s hothouse came unbidden to her and she bit her lip against the yearning ache.

  But then the crunching sound of rocks pulled her from reminiscing. A shadow fell across the sprouting vegetables.

  “Lizzie.”

  Her insides froze. Edmund had returned.

  She had not spoken to him since that awful day they returned to Abingdon. His merciless presence in the carriage had alternated between gloating and seduction. Neither of which she could tolerate.

  Once she had reached home, Lizzie asked that he not come to see her again. Surprisingly, he had obliged her other than to inform her of his plans to return London for a short trip.

  Now he was back.

  Lizzie jiggled the wood with her hands, but it held firm. “I have nothing to say to you,” she said, not giving him the courtesy of even a glance.

  “But you need to hear what I have come to say.”

  She stood, stretched her aching back, then brushed the dirt from her knees. Still, she faced the back of the garden. Edmund meant nothing but misery to her now. He was not only a reminder of the life she had left behind a few months ago, he was testament to the transformation of those she thought she knew. Clearly, she lacked the ability to judge character.

  “I’m quite busy, Edmund.”

  “Lizzie.” He snatched her arm and swung her around to face him. He still wore the fancified garb of London instead of the common clothes of a country clergyman. His hair was slick and combed, not the wildness she once found charming. It was like an entirely different man stood before her now.