He cleared his throat, and forced his voice as normal as he could manage. “As much as I would love to remain in the presence of you two lovely ladies, I have some matters I must attend.”
Once the ladies exited the room, Marcus let out a breath and tried to take control of his overheated body. The calm way Isabella had addressed their desire made him crave to see it in her expression. To have her look at him with dark eyes, hooded with passion. To watch her face as she took pleasure in his body.
The thought cooled him as very little could at present. That would never happen. She didn’t belong to him and never would.
Moving down the hallway, he crossed to the room that gave him the best view of the garden. The sight of the two women walking along, stopping at certain flowers, brought an ache to his chest.
As he focused on Miss Ashford, he realized that, whether he wanted to or not, he had to end his relationship with Isabella. Then, his gaze shifted to her. He had a few weeks left before he had to make that decision. Until then, he would do his best to remove her from his system. Regardless of how many kisses that would entail.
Marcus tensed to see a figure following them, then forced his shoulders to relax when he recognized Raymond. On one hand, he liked to see she had someone to keep her safe, but he too easily recalled how many times Isabella had been in his company without the escort.
He took a deep breath. How was he supposed to get her out of his head with all these thoughts of her running through his mind? Sliding into a chair, he covered his face with his hands. If he couldn’t do something about his desire for Isabella, he would have to resign himself to a very trying life.
Chapter 8
Isabella leaned forward in her chair, listening to Lady Burman tell another fanciful story about her son as a child. It was easy to see how much she cared for the viscount, regardless of his behavior, or perhaps she excused him because of her love.
“He really is a fine, young man,” Lady Burman finished.
“I’m sure he is pleased to know you feel that way about him.”
A light entered the viscountess’s unseeing eyes, and Isabella silently prayed it wouldn’t be what she feared. “You know, he is quite an eligible bachelor. If my illness would permit him to be in London, I have no doubt he would be very popular.”
“I have no doubt,” Isabella muttered through clenched teeth.
“Please tell me, has my son grown into a handsome man?”
“Yes,” Isabella answered honestly. It was his manners that made him unattractive—not his physical appearance.
“I do believe he finds you to be quite beautiful. I’ve heard him mention it before.”
Letting out a breath, Isabella knew she couldn’t allow this to go on any longer. “That is quite flattering, but I don’t believe the viscount and I would make a good match.”
The sparkle didn’t leave the older woman’s eyes. “Have another gentleman in mind, do you? Please, tell me all about him.”
Resisting the urge to unburden herself proved difficult. In truth, Isabella missed the days when she and Annalise would talk. Over seven months without having a female confidante had affected her more than she’d realized.
“He’s quite wonderful,” Isabella admitted at last, a smile curling her lips as she thought of Marcus. “The problem is, I believe he has decided upon another woman.”
A look of pity crossed the woman’s face. “Sometimes men can be blinder than I am. If he can’t see how delightful you are, he doesn’t deserve you.”
“Unfortunately, it’s more complicated than that. You see, he does desire me, but for some reason, he feels obligated to offer for the other girl.”
“Then, you must find out why and break their connection.”
“I tried.” Isabella rubbed a hand over her forehead. “All she could talk about was how great the man is.”
Thinking back over her conversation with Miss Ashford, Isabella could tell the girl was smitten. After Marcus had left them, Miss Ashford had forgotten about the flowers as she listed all of Marcus’s good qualities. Honestly, it had taken a fair amount of self-control to keep her mouth quiet on the subject. It was apparent to Isabella, Miss Ashford knew very little about Marcus’s true self.
“Then, you need to decide how much this man means to you, and how much you are willing to go through to get him.”
“What are you talking about?” Isabella leaned forward in her chair, eager to learn what she needed to do. Never before had she felt like this for a man, and she refused to allow her one chance at happiness to pass her by.
“Well, if you were caught alone together, he would be forced to do the honorable thing and marry you.”
Isabella immediately rejected the idea. “My brother would be more likely to challenge him to a duel than to force him to marry me. No. This must be his decision alone.”
“But, if your gentleman is honorable, he would do the right thing regardless if the earl pushes the issue.”
“There would be little he could do from the grave. Henry is very skilled with a pistol.”
The viscountess sat forward and lowered her voice. “There is another option, but it is quite drastic and irreversible.”
“Tell me,” Isabella said before she could think twice about it.
“You could seduce him, then he would have no choice but to marry you.”
“I-I couldn’t,” Isabella squeaked out.
Lady Burman shrugged her shoulders and sat back. “That is probably for the best. After all, you would need to be certain of your decision first.”
“Still, I don’t believe I am capable of doing something so drastic.”
With a shrug of her shoulders, the viscountess moved their conversation to safer topics. However, Isabella could no longer force herself to relax. Even after making excuses and heading back to Midcliffe, the subject wouldn’t leave her mind. The thought of giving Marcus her body didn’t bother her as much as the idea of tricking him did.
Once inside the manor, she was so absorbed in her thoughts, she didn’t notice Henry until she almost ran into him. The glower he gave her in return brought an uneasy feeling in her stomach.
“My study. Now,” he bellowed.
Without a word, she followed him down the hallway, and entered the room before him, jumping at the slamming of the door.
“I’ve been waiting for you for near an hour,” he began before she could make it more than a few steps from him. “I allowed your little visit since the viscount had gone to town, but you made me regret my decision.”
She let out a long breath. “If you would have told me what time you wished for me to return, I would’ve been sure to have arrived before then.”
“Where did you go?” he demanded, moving toward her until he towered over her.
“You know I was with Lady Burman.”
He let out a mirthless laugh. “For two hours? I don’t believe you. No guest is that inconsiderate to stay such a length of time, and I’ve taught you better. Tell me the truth.”
Lifting her gaze, she stared into her half-brother’s furious face. She glared back. Although being silent in the face of his anger normally helped her, she was tired of being accused of something she didn’t do.
“Lady Burman has been alone for a week. The only company she keeps is a maid whom I suspect has difficulty hearing. Giving the lady two hours of my day seemed like nothing.”
He was quiet for a long time. “And, she matters more than me? I’ve been worried and in pain while you’ve been chatting away, but that doesn’t seem to bother you.” His voice didn’t give away his emotions.
“I’m sorry. You had no reason to worry, and I didn’t know you were hurting.”
An irritated sound escaped his lips. “That’s part of your problem, Isabella. You are always too concerned with yourself to be aware of the people around you.”
“I said I was sorry. If you would have told me, I would have—”
He held up his hand. “Stop. Just go.”
“No. I can help. I’m here now.”
As he turned to leave the room, she reached out and grabbed his arm to stop him. He froze. For a long time, he didn’t move, just stood there, his hands clenched tightly while hers gripped his arm.
“Very well.” His strained voice betrayed the extent of his discomfort. “I’m just tired of hurting all the time. I-I wish I didn’t have to use your talent. You deserve better.”
“Don’t think like that. I am happy to help ease your suffering.”
When he sat down, and she sank to the floor in front of him, he let out a sigh of relief. Once she had finished massaging his leg, she allowed the housekeeper to escort her to her bedchamber.
As she slid down onto her bed, she looked down at her hands. Marcus would benefit from a massage from her, as well. The idea of touching him made her hands shake. Would he gaze upon her with passion on his face, or avert his gaze as her half-brother did?
Heat touched her cheeks as her mind once again recalled Lady Burman’s suggestion. Although she couldn’t seduce Marcus, she wouldn’t be opposed to showing him just how desirable she could be.
~ ~ ~
Marcus cursed himself for a fool as he strode across the dance floor, anticipation and terror welling up inside of him. He’d chosen this dance since he felt as though he’d be better able to keep up. However, the idea of doing so still worried him. Then, he laid his eyes on Isabella.
She stood with a few other women, looking striking in a light green gown that accentuated her eyes. The idea of holding her in his arms as they maneuvered the steps set his pulse to racing and a sheen of sweat dusting his forehead.
When their gazes met, he was able to force himself to take the final steps to reach her. The smile she bestowed upon him made his mind blank. She was happy to see him.
“Lady Isabella, I believe this dance is mine.”
“Yes, my lord.” She slid her arm over his, and he led them to the dance floor, joining the other waiting couples.
Facing her, he easily guided them through the first steps of the dance with little to no argument from his leg. Hope filled him. He could do this.
“Are you enjoying yourself this evening?”
Her answering smile blinded him. “Very much so. I never would have thought that you could dance.”
“I had lessons, the same as you I’d imagine. Simply because I don’t engage in the activity often doesn’t mean I am not capable.”
She inclined her head then moved on as the steps pulled them apart. His eyes drank up her lithe form as she moved. As he realized he was enjoying himself, he wondered why he hadn’t tried this years ago.
“Well, I’m honored to be one of the few ladies you have partnered lately.”
Pitching his voice low, he leaned in as close as he could. “You’re the only one beside Annalise and the dance instructor.”
A becoming flush touched her cheeks as she looked away. “Then, I suppose I have even more to be grateful for.”
As the song wore on, Marcus realized dancing hadn’t been the best idea. His injured leg throbbed and he had to stop conversing to keep his concentration on finishing the dance and not the stabs of pain shooting down his leg. To his embarrassment, Isabella seemed to notice as well. She silently helped him along, allowing him to borrow her strength.
“Lean on me,” she muttered under her breath as he escorted her off the dance floor when the song had concluded. “I never should have agreed to this.”
Hating his handicap, he gave her what he hoped was an effortless grin. “I’m glad you did. It was worth it.”
“Good, because it will not happen again. Now, you can leave me by those ladies so you can take the chair off to the side by Lord Harrow.”
He nodded. Although he would like nothing more than to act like the numerous gentlemen in the room, the painful truth reverberated through his leg.
“If I could whisk you out into the garden for a stroll, I would. I’m certain the fresh air of the night would be refreshing.”
“Don’t waste another thought on that, I have no desire to stroll in the garden tonight.”
Gritting his teeth, he forced himself not to respond. The urge to question if she was telling the truth was strong. He didn’t want her to lie to him.
“Thank you for the dance, my lady.” He bowed as they arrived near the women she had indicated.
Concern knitted her brow. “It was my pleasure, my lord.”
Wishing he had his cane, Marcus bit down hard on his teeth as he fought through the pain and crossed to the chair. After sinking down into the seat, relief poured through him. He’d done it. For the first time in too many years, he’d survived a dance without making a fool of himself.
“Starsen.” The unwelcome voice of the Earl of Midcliffe invaded his pleasant thoughts. “I haven’t known you to indulge in events such as this.”
The man’s words were conversational, but Marcus heard the unveiled anger in his tone.
With a forced smile, Marcus inclined his head, wishing he could stand and not be left at such a height disadvantage. “I have come to offer my escort to my mother and Miss Ashford. I was unaware of the necessity of informing you in advance.”
“As you well know, I have no thoughts on your comings and goings, that is, unless it has to do with my sister.”
Irritated, Marcus cocked his head to the side. “So, you have shared several conversations on this subject, then? At present, she appears to be waltzing with Lord Smyth. Do you intend to speak with him next?”
“That’s unnecessary. You see Lord Smyth and you have very different situations. I just find it curious that a man who hasn’t danced in years as far as I can tell, should choose my sister as his first partner.”
“My decisions are not up for debate. I asked, and she accepted.”
Midcliffe’s face darkened as he clenched his hands into fists. “You’d be better served to reserve your attention for Miss Ashford. You will not have Isabella. I will make sure of it.”
Fury welled up inside of Marcus, propelling him to his feet. Although the earl was slightly taller than him, Marcus was never one to back down from a threat. Or, from a fight.
“And, you don’t think I would retaliate?” Marcus kept his voice low, as to not attract attention. “If I had decided upon her, you would have significantly more difficulties than you think.”
The man let out a breath as he lowered his shoulders, and apologetic smile on his face. “Then, I suppose it is good you haven’t decided upon her. It wouldn’t be pleasant to have an enemy’s estate so close.”
His blood still pounded through his ears, regardless of the earl’s relaxed posture. This whole situation angered him more than it should. After all, Isabella wasn’t for him.
“I do wonder,” Marcus managed to keep his voice even, “why you have declared me so unsuitable for Lady Isabella.”
With a raised brow, Midcliffe studied him, a curious expression on his face. “I should think that would be obvious considering what just occurred. Isabella deserves a whole man. Not someone who barely manages one dance before collapsing. I know my limit. Two dances an hour. You will never see me being assisted from the dance floor. Nor should Isabella have to burden herself with such a chore.”
“I see.” Marcus barely managed to get the words out.
“Speaking of, my next dance is approaching, and I must claim my partner.”
As Midcliffe walked away, their conversation swirled through Marcus’s thoughts. He hated to admit it, but the man was right. Isabella loved to dance, it was clear on her face. She deserved a man who could keep up with her.
He turned his attention to Miss Ashford, standing beside his mother. The girl was more to his speed. She appeared to enjoy dancing, but didn’t seem to mind sitting out as well. It was time to stop avoiding the truth. He knew which lady lay in his future. And, which one did not.
~ ~ ~
Isabella marched down the hall to Marcus’s study, clutching his last
missive in her hand. She was tired of waiting for the butler to return with her answer, so she would seek him out herself. It had taken a lot of convincing to get Henry to allow her to visit Avange Manor while Raymond had been away. In the end, she finally convinced him of her need for Miss Ashford’s friendship.
“Tell her that I—”
She pushed open the door farther, cutting Marcus off and ignoring the appalled look on the butler’s face. “You can tell me yourself.”
With a sigh, Marcus waved a hand at the man. “You may leave us now.”
“Yes, my lord.” After bowing to Marcus, the man shot her a disapproving look before moving through the doorway.
Irritated with the butler—with the whole situation—she slammed the door behind him and stomped over to Marcus’s desk.
She tossed the missive he’d sent her onto the stack of papers. “What is this?”
“If I’m not mistaken, it’s a letter. Would you care to have a seat?”
His calm voice irritated her, and she glared. No. She didn’t want to have a seat. If that meant he would have to remain standing as well, she didn’t care. After this, he deserved a little discomfort.
“Tell me why. You worked so hard to get me to continue writing you letters. So, why are you ending it now?”
“I just think it would be better for both of us if we ceased our communications.”
Feeling the pricking of tears in the back of her eyes, she focused on her anger. It would serve her much better at present. In addition, she had no desire for him to see how much he had hurt her.
“Is this because of Henry? I knew when I saw the two of you talking that it wouldn’t be good. He means well, but he has no say in my life.”
Marcus ran a hand through his hair, his exasperated eyes searching hers. “Isabella, what are we doing? Nothing can come from this. You said it yourself, I’m not the man for you. Besides, you know I have made a promise to another.”
Ensnaring Lord Starsen Page 10