by Cheryl Bolen
He’d give them his name, perhaps, but not his heart.
However, over the last few months, since his thirtieth birthday, Collette’s patience concerning his taking a wife had disappeared like the grains of sand in an egg timer.
As he stood outside his mother’s room, he knew the timer had run out of sand.
He knocked and waited for her to bid him entry.
“Come in, dear.”
He strode in with a grin on his face. “How did you know it was me,” he asked as he kissed his mother’s proffered cheek.
“It was the tone of your knock. It sounded annoyed. You hate it when I summon you.”
He took the seat across from her. He admired his mother tremendously. Not just her graceful beauty, for she still turned heads at almost a half-century, but for her composure and loyal heart. After his father’s death, she could have remarried, should have remarried. Yet, she could not bring herself to dishonor her husband’s memory. If only there were more women of his mother’s nature, women whose love was true and everlasting. His father had chosen well, while he had chosen like a fool….
He left his bittersweet memories behind and prepared himself for battle. “It’s not so much the summons as the reason behind it.”
His mother laughed gaily. “If you know the reason, why haven’t you done more to progress my wishes? I’ve left you alone for the last three months and nothing….” Her smile vanished. “And now I hear Sabine Fournier, has returned to London in a new guise, as the Contessa Orsini.”
His smile remained plastered on his face with an effort. “Why should that concern me?”
She sighed and shook her head. “When will you learn, my boy. I see and hear everything. I heard she purposely attended Lady Somerset’s ball to seek a meeting with you.”
Marcus uncrossed his legs. “Lady Sabine Orsini is of no concern to me. She’s in my past and is of no consequence.”
“Rubbish,” Collette spluttered. “She is the first woman you loved”-
-”Loved, as in past tense. I have no feelings for Sabine now.” Liar. You have feelings for her, but none you can discuss with your mother. An image from last night of Sabine’s golden tresses spilling over her naked breasts set his mind racing. He hastily re-crossed his legs.
She studied him quietly before giving a triumphant smile. “I’m very pleased to hear you say that. Sabine Fournier almost destroyed you once. I’ll not sit by and let her do it again.”
“Nothing Lady Orsini could do would ever have any impact on me, mother.”
“Then you’ll not mind paying court to Lady Amy Shipton.”
Marcus rubbed his brow, his headache worsening. “Paying court?”
“As you don’t seem to care for one particular woman, I thought I’d find you a wife. Grandchildren, my boy. I want plenty of them before I’m too old to enjoy them. I’ve waited long enough. I’d like to see your engagement announced by the end of the season, and an autumn wedding would be super.”
His mother was nothing but direct. He admired that about her. She didn’t play games. “Does the lady know of this plan?”
“Her father does. And he approves, regardless of your well deserved reputation. Amy is the most sought after debutante this season. She’s beautiful, but best of all she has a brain. I know you’d be bored with a simpleton.”
His lips turned up with a hint of a smile. “Your idea of beauty and mine might be quite different,” he teased.
“Oh, it’s not my idea. I simply chose a woman who looked very much like all your mistresses. I assume that is your preference. A woman with dark hair, dark eyes, and a much fuller figure— voluptuous I believe the look is called.”
His face flared with heat and he choked back a snort. How did his mother know of such things?
“Amy is the exact opposite of Sabine Fournier, and considering you’ve never bedded a fair-haired woman since her, she would be what I assume you would desire.”
Now that statement from his mother was too close for comfort and exceedingly embarrassing.
“I have no idea how you came by that piece of information and I don’t wish to. But mother, really…”
“You’ve got to get on with your life.” Her hands were waving which wasn’t a good sign. It meant she was winding up for a passionate explosion. “You’ve let Sabine Fournier rule your life for almost ten years and I’ll not put up with it anymore. You’re a wonderful, warm man if only you’d let people close enough to see it. Do not judge all women by one jezebel’s actions. I had hoped your parent’s marriage would demonstrate how wonderful a family could be.” Her voice broke on the last sentence. “I still miss your father terribly.”
“I do know how wonderful your marriage with Father was. I’ve never seen two such devoted people. That’s why I have not married. I haven’t found that with anyone.”
“Don’t think to sway me. You haven’t exactly been looking. Well, not looking in the right places. You don’t marry mistresses.” She pulled her pleading, helpless look. “Would you do this for me? Will you at least meet Amy and consider the idea?”
He could never deny his mother when she was like this. Besides, Amy was exceedingly beautiful in that dark, Celtic manner. He’d have no trouble rising to the occasion of begetting an heir and the desired grandchildren.
He usually stayed well away from debutantes but he remembered the dark beauty. She’d caught his eye at a ball; he couldn’t remember which one. One of the other beauties of the season had spitefully spilt a drink on one of the wall-flowers, and Amy had stepped forward in her defense and proffered a cutting remark to the perpetrator. Then she had escorted the ugly duckling away to be cleaned up. He’d admired her for her compassion and good-heart.
His mother was watching him with a raised eyebrow.
Perhaps letting his mother select a wife wasn’t such a bad idea. His disaster with Sabine flashed through his mind. He’d made a complete hash of it the first time on his own. His mother would know the young lady’s character better than he ever could. He wanted a woman who would be true to him, who would be an excellent and caring mother, and who could step in and fill his mother’s shoes within Society. A high expectation he knew. But who else was better qualified to find his mother’s replacement than the woman who had previously held the title of Lady Wolverstone?
“You’re over-thinking this, Marcus. Why not pay attention to the girl and see what develops? That is all I’m asking.”
“May the devil take you, Mother! You know that is not all you’re asking. The minute I step out with Lady Amy Shipton, the ton will assume I’ve selected her to become the next Lady Wolverstone. I’ve never once encouraged a virginal miss.”
“Mind your language, please.”
Marcus tipped his head back and laughed. “You can discuss my preference in bed partners but I cannot utter the word virginal?” He shook his head. “Sometimes Mother, you really are priceless.”
He rose and walked to kiss her goodbye. “I’m leaving. I’ve promised to meet Henry at the club, although of late he’s become a pain in my rear. He’s almost as bad as you. He’s enraptured of Harlow’s marriage to Caitlin. He believes true love will make us content.” He gave a harsh laugh. “He doesn’t realize how rare true love is.”
Mother and son shared a special smile. She said, “Well, I do. And I know Lady Amy Shipton is the right woman for you if you’ll simply give her a chance.”
As he made his way to the door, he made a final comment over his shoulder. “As always your wish prevails. Set your plan in motion in regards to Amy. Simply tell me where I have to turn up and I promise I shall be on my best behavior.” He paused before he exited and gave his mother a stern look. “But if I don’t like her, I will not be persuaded. Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly, my dear.”
He closed the door behind him on his mother’s triumphant smile. Knowing his mother, his life as a bachelor was now on borrowed time. He should make merry while he still could.
&n
bsp; He immediately thought of Sabine, picturing her naked and in his bed.
His pulse quickened and his body hardened.
It was best he got on and enjoyed his freedom while it lasted.
*
Marcus hurried up the steps of White’s set on finding Henry and getting his friend to take his mind of his predicament. He strolled into the cool interior of the club and found Henry reading the paper at their normal table near the back. No sooner had he taken his seat than a glass of brandy appeared on a tray before him. “Keep them coming, George. It’s going to be one of those days.”
“Yes, my lord,” and George, the ever patient and efficient servant discreetly fetched the decanter and left it on their table.
Henry peered over the top of his paper with disapproving eyes. “Why am I not surprised? This requirement to drink yourself senseless has nothing to do with last night, does it?”
“No.”
“Funny. I cannot remember you joining me in the card room as you said you would.”
“I was waylaid.”
Henry folded the paper neatly and laid it on the table. “Waylaid? Is that what they call it now? By whom may I ask? Lady Somerset reappeared in the ballroom rather suddenly without you, I may add.”
Marcus blushed and he gulped back the alcohol in his glass.
Henry continued with a wry smile. “And who else seemed to be missing from the room? It was none other than Sabine Fournier herself. A coincidence? I think not.”
“Damn it, Henry. I’m not in the mood. This morning Mother coerced me into agreeing to court Lady Amy Shipton. I don’t need another lecture.”
Henry sat back in his chair and pursed his lips. “Lady Amy Shipton. The Duke’s daughter. He’s my neighbor you know.” His head nodded. “She’s a good choice for you, Marcus. She’s kind, beautiful and as bright as a button. She could make you happy.”
Why did the image of Sabine’s beautiful face flash before him whenever he heard the word happy? Sabine would never make him happy. He would never forgive her for her deceit. He couldn’t. What if he opened his heart again and she knifed it a second time?
Marcus groaned.
Henry continued. “Then why did you spend last evening with Sabine Fournier? She’s trouble. I don’t want to see you hurt again. Remember I was there to pick up the mess she left behind last time.”
“If you must know she has had the audacity to beg a favor of me.”
Henry’s eyebrow rose. “I hope you told her to sod off.”
A smile broke over his lips. “Actually, I have agreed to help her. Her father was one of Gower’s victims and died in the poorhouse because of it. She wants revenge. She wants my help to ensure she gets it.”
“If she has a good plan, then I’m in too. Gower ruined a lot of good people, Millicent included. She lost her life’s savings.”
“Which I’m sure you will help her replenish.”
Millicent was Henry’s current mistress. Henry had stayed true to her for over two years and she was the main reason why, although he talked about the joys of marriage, he did not part-take of it. Marcus thought his friend was hoping for a miracle. That somehow Society would condone a marriage to his mistress.
“What’s her plan?”
“She wants me to win the Gentleman’s Annual Whist Tournament.”
“How did she know about your card skills? You rarely play in public.”
Marcus shrugged. “That’s her strategy. It doesn’t actually matter if I win or not; rather, I’m to enter and ensure whoever Gower has backed doesn’t win.”
“And that will ruin him?”
“He’ll lose everything. He’s desperate and has staked everything he owns on Prendergast being in the final pair. I suspect Sabine is buying up or has bought up all his vowels.”
Henry grimaced. “Knowing how cold hearted she is; I doubt she’ll show any mercy.”
Marcus started. Cold. When he’d held her in his arms she’d been anything but cold. She was fiery passion personified. His blood raged hot at the thought of having her beneath him again. He’d take his time. He’d learn every inch of her….
For some reason he wanted to defend her. “Her parents died in the poorhouse. Gower’s treachery sent them there. She has every reason to want revenge.”
Henry frowned. “And it begins all over again. You’re defending her after only one meeting.” He paused and eyed Marcus sharply. “What happened last night? How did she persuade you?”
He couldn’t hold Henry’s gaze.
“Shit. You let Sabine, of all women, seduce you again?”
“No!” Marcus cursed. “If you must know, I offered her a wager. She becomes my lover if I win the tournament. And I intend to win it for her. It is a fair exchange.”
Henry sighed. “What are you doing? That woman destroyed you once before and now you let her walk back into your life as if nothing had ever happened? You could have avenged her parents…wait!” Henry sat up straight. “This is about your revenge, isn’t it?” Henry sipped at his drink. “I can’t say that I blame you. I know what her betrayal cost you. Just be careful. You could never think straight when it came to Sabine Fournier.”
“I’m only fucking her, not marrying her. I’ll wash her from my system, marry Lady Amy Shipton and live a happy life ever after.”
Henry laughed. “I must admit the idea of destroying Gower warms my heart. I’ll help you practice.” He looked around. “But not here. We don’t want anyone to know how good you are. How about we adjourn to my townhouse for a few hands? I’ll invite Millicent; she has a very lovely friend over from Paris visiting with her.”
Before Marcus could reply George approached with a note on his tray. “For you, Lord Wolverstone.”
Marcus recognized his mother’s aristocratic crest on the stationery and opened the note.
My dearest son,
You are to please attend the Earl of Barforte’s ball tonight with me and dance the first waltz with Lady Amy Shipton. I have taken you at your word. We are expected there promptly at ten.
Love, Mother
Henry must have noted his frown. “Not bad news I hope?”
“No. Mother has simply instigated her plan rather more quickly than I’d hoped. I’m to declare my intentions toward Lady Amy Shipton tonight at the Earl of Barforte’s ball. The noose is tightening.” Marcus cursed and stood to take his leave. “I appreciate the offer of practice. But I’m not in need of female company.”
Henry drained his glass and rose with him. “It’s started already. I’ve never known you to turn down female delights before. Sabine’s twisting you up inside.”
“She is not. I merely need a clear head. Wait for me outside while I enter my name in the tournament.”
With that he departed, ignoring Henry’s knowing smile and headed towards his fate.
CHAPTER SIX
Sabine pulled on her gloves with determined tugs, she was still fuming over her reaction to Marcus. Thoughts of him made her heart lurch with an intense pleasure she couldn’t control. She’d not slept a wink; dreams of lying in Marcus’s arms quickly turned into nightmares. She had given herself to him, and once he’d taken her, he’d cruelly walked away leaving her bereft.
She stepped through her front door, on her way out to visit her friend, Monique Baye. Monique’s family had also fled France and she now made a living for herself as a modiste in London. Monique had tried to help Sabine’s parents in their time of need, but she did not have enough money and by the time she had earned enough, Sabine’s parents were both sick. Monique had seen to it that they had had a proper funeral and were not buried in paupers’ graves. The least Sabine could do was support her friend’s growing business. Before Sabine left England and returned to Italy for good, she intended to make Monique the most sought after modiste in London.
It was the clatter of horses’ hooves and the sight of Marcus and Henry St. Giles on their fine mounts that stopped her from entering her carriage. Their mounts weren’t the
only things that were fine. The men astride them turned heads everywhere.
“Perfect,” she muttered under her breath. She had thought she’d have a respite from his company for a few days. She shivered as she remembered that her planned revenge on her parents’ behalf would see her have to submit to the one man who would not value her sacrifice.
She almost stumbled as her heart leapt into her throat. Both men looked so handsome mounted on their impressive stallions. But it was the dark haired Marcus that drew her eye.
Squaring her shoulders, she stepped onto the pavement. It was obvious that Henry St. Giles, the blond demi-god of London, held her in contempt. His barely civil, “Good day, Madam,” was testament to his feelings at her return.
She acknowledged Henry’s greeting with a nod of her head. “Gentlemen. To what do I owe the honor of a personal call at this early hour of the morning?” she said as she smiled sweetly at Marcus.
He dismounted with a masculine grace that saw her blush. She couldn’t take her eyes off his muscled thighs, remembering how they’d felt as she’d pressed shamelessly against him. Her body hummed at the memory of the power and pleasure his touch had given her.
As he took her extended hand, he placed a lingering kiss on her glove, and a tremble of awareness flashed over her and his amber eyes gleamed with unbridled fire at her response.
So he’d felt this quickening too.
His eyes glanced at the façade of the house behind her. “You’ve bought Dowager Spencer’s house I see. You’re Henry’s neighbor.” He indicated across the street. “Henry will be able to keep an eye on who enters and leaves your house. Remember our wager. You’re mine, and only mine, for as long as I desire.”
She tried to take back her hand from his warm grasp but he held tight. “I’ve leased her house, actually. Once my business here in London is completed, I intend to return to Italy.”
“Only when I allow it.” His tone was a sharp reminder that he expected her to be at his beck and call.