A Viscount of Mystery

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  Clearly furious, she continued to look straight ahead, not even sparing him one glance. He couldn't decide if she was angry, embarrassed, or attempting to keep her passion in check. Perhaps it was a combination of all three. And while he prayed it was the final emotion she felt towards him, he had a sinking suspicion that it was the first instead. "I have survived worse, my lord." Then she lapsed into stony silence again, which was far from companionable.

  As they approached her carriage, he could see Caroline's driver hopping down to assist her into the conveyance and the sly peep of a maid's eyes through the closed curtains. So she had not truly been alone, just as she had said. That still did not make her actions correct. Though given the stiff and unyielding nature of her posture and the furious look in her eyes, she did not seem to be in the mood for apologies. Still, he would grant her one anyway.

  "My apologies, my lady," he finally offered, not knowing what else to say that would not aggravate her further. "I was merely concerned for you. I do not wish to see you come to harm." When she still did not reply, he stopped and turned her to face him. "Caro, I am sorry. However, after last night, we cannot pretend that things are the same between us. We can no longer pretend that there is no lingering affection. And that affection makes me worry for your safety."

  Caroline raised one eyebrow at him rather imperiously. "Just because we kissed, or perhaps indulged a bit more, that does not mean that I have changed my mind, Marc. I will see you married to a fine lady of good breeding. One that is not me."

  "And I have told you that I will accept no one but you, Caro," he tossed back, feeling his temper flare to life again. What in heaven's name was wrong with the chit? What he truly that much of a monster with his bad eye and damaged leg? He had expected other young ladies to view him as such, but not Caroline. "Why will you not give me a chance to win you? Especially when it is plain that you desire me as much as I desire you?"

  Caroline began to raise a hand to his face but then stopped as if remembering that anyone might stumble upon them. "Because our time has passed, Marc. We are different people now. Perhaps if I had not gone away or perhaps if you had not become ill, things would have been different. We would have been different." She clenched her fingers around her reticule. "Last night should not have happened. I now realize it, even if you do not."

  Marcus wanted to argue with her but quickly decided that would not advance his cause. Instead, he shrugged. "That is your opinion, my lady. One, might I add that I do not share." She was about to protest when he brought his hand up to still her. "But, as I do not wish to argue with you, I shall accept that you do not desire me. For now. Even though we both know it is a lie you tell yourself when I am not around. So introduce me to whatever silly idiot females you feel you must. I will meet them, at least, even if I shan't marry them."

  "Marc..." Caroline began but then stopped as if she knew this was a battle she could not win. "Very well. I am far too weary to argue this morning. Not to mention that there is another ball tonight that we have both agreed to attend."

  "Lady Saintwood's Moonlight Ball." He nodded, knowing full well that Caroline planned to throw Lady Diana in his path again. The chit was nice, but not for him. "I remember, and I shall be there."

  "See that you are." She motioned for her driver to lower the steps. "And that you will be agreeable to the ladies I introduce you to."

  He shrugged again. "Agreeable enough."

  That was clearly not what she wanted to hear for she pursed her lips, but he would not concede the point. He would meet the young ladies in question and be nice to them. He still would not marry them. She knew by the very determined look in his eyes that he would not. "Very well. I shall see you tonight."

  Then she was gone, tucked inside the carriage in a puff of old, gray bombazine and a muted fit of temper.

  As he watched the carriage drive away, he frowned. There was something very wrong about this entire business, beginning with her wandering in the park alone and ending with her refusal of his pursuit. None of her actions made a bit of sense - especially her protests and resistance even after she practically begged him to seduce her in his coach last evening.

  However Marcus decided not to pursue the matter for the remainder of the day. That did not mean he was about to drop it however. Instead, he would simply allow Caroline to believe that he had fallen for her lies. In the meantime, he would recall Harry Greer and send the man to Northumberland. There was something amiss with Caroline and it was clear that she would not tell him a bloody thing about it. Instead, she was clinging to the air of mystery that she wore like a cloak.

  He had hoped that she might open up enough to truly be herself with him. He had thought they might be friends in the way they once were. And that could happen. He simply wanted to know the truth and not the lies she had been feeding him.

  From the expression on Caroline's face, however, she obviously wished Marcus would simply let the matter drop. So he would. For a time anyway. This little incident was far from being forgotten, however.

  Inside the safety of her carriage, Caroline risked a peek through the closed curtains. Marcus still stood where she had left him, watching the carriage roll away down the street and back towards Turner-Carson House.

  "He loves you, my lady." Glenna, never one to keep silent about her mistress' doings clearly felt no need to hold her tongue now either. "Why do you push him away when it's clear to me that you feel the same? Is it not what you have wished for all these many years?"

  "You know why, Glenna." Caroline allowed the curtain to fall back into place. "If Marcus knew the truth about me, about what I have done, he would hate me. He is also infatuated with Lady X to the point of distraction at times. For him to discover that she and I are the same person? That I have known of his infatuation and not told him the truth of things? He would never speak to me again."

  At that, her maid let out a sound that was a cross between a huff of disbelief and a sigh. "Aye, perhaps he might at that." When she was cross, Glenna's natural accent, which she had learned to hide over the years, often tinged her words. "Or perhaps he would be angry only a short while and then forgive ye. A man in love with a woman forgives her much. Lest that's what my da used to say."

  "And my excellent forgery skills and the fact that my uncle very nearly had me married to a man who wanted nothing more than my fortune? The very same man who took my innocence?" Caroline wasn't quite so certain that Marcus could forgive any of those things. Especially when she had not confessed her sins to him when she had returned three years ago. On the other hand, he had been dying at the time, so perhaps he might forgive that. Might. Or might not.

  As expected, Glenna had a different opinion.

  "That was not you, my lady," she sniffed haughtily. "That was all your bastard of an uncle's doing. I've seen your Lord Marcus' temper. If he knew all that had occurred, were your scoundrel uncle still alive? Lord Breckenright would thrash the man soundly, he would." Then Glenna sat back as if the matter was settled.

  Except that it wasn't, at least not in Caroline's mind. She doubted it ever would be. At least not as long as Lady X still reported on London society.

  Caroline had penned her latest Lady X column rather late last evening. Normally, she rushed to her desk to compose the piece the moment she walked in the door each night while the gossip was still fresh in her mind. Then she would send someone, usually Glenna, accompanied by Marsh, the driver, to drop the manuscript at the publisher's doorstep. Last night, however, Caroline's mind had been muddled and she had delayed in writing her column. Instead, she had indulged in fantasizing about Marcus and his delicious kisses. About the way he had set her body ablaze with need. About the future they could have had, if not for her uncle and his machinations.

  By the time she had finished, it had been rather late and she knew she would need to placate her publisher with an in-person appearance. Much as she had the last time she had not finished her piece on time. The last time such an unfortunately event
had occurred, Marcus had caught her out in the park in the early morning hours as well. Darn the early rising man!

  So in the early hours of the morning, she had donned her oldest and most hideous gown and set out with her maid and her driver. As expected, her editor had not been pleased with the delay but when he had seen her in person, he had, again as expected, become his usual groveling self. After all, without Lady X, his paper would not sell even a fraction of what it did currently and he well knew it.

  On the way home, however, Caroline's mind was still in a turmoil. She wanted Marcus and he, it seemed, meant to have her. No matter the cost to either of them. Yet she knew she could not be with him unless she confessed all. And that, she was certain, would lead him to despise her. At the very least, he would no longer trust her.

  She would lose him.

  After so many years of friendship, she would lose the one person she held most dear to her. That, she was afraid, she could not bear. So instead, she had made up her mind to push him away completely, to make certain that he married one of the young ladies she recommended to him.

  Except that at the precise moment she had made up her mind, he had appeared on his great beast of a horse in the early morning mists, much like a phantom not of this earth. Seeing him sit astride his horse, no one would even guess that his leg did not work properly and that his left eye did not focus as it should, leaving him partially blind. Instead, all she saw was a magnificent, dashing man that she loved with all of her heart.

  She had wanted to run to him and fling herself into his arms, tell him that yes, she would be his and his alone. She would not utter a word about her past, save what might be necessary for the marriage bed.

  Then he had opened his mouth and began questioning the reason she was in the park. Alone. And she had panicked.

  Caroline had reacted badly, she knew, fighting back and, in truth, baiting Marcus into a fine temper. She had thought it a way to keep his mind from what they had shared the previous evening in his carriage, not to mention why she was in the park at such an ungodly hour.

  In turn, he had chastised her and then tempted her to give in, saying that he would settle for no one but her. Which had, in turn, frightened her even more until they were arguing again.

  She hated that, despised every cross word between them. It should not be thus. They were friends, far greater than he was with any of his male friends, odd as that was. She knew things about him that she was certain they did not. She had saved his life, even though he did not know it.

  Yet she also knew that she could not tell him the truth - about anything. Oh, but how she wanted to. So instead, she fought back. Argued. Became a shrew. Much to her shame.

  Would he stop asking about her past, just as he had rather implicitly promised? She doubted it. So the problem still remained - what should she do about Marcus? Should she tell him the truth or should she scamper back to the country and her cousin Norbert's home at Grayfield? She knew she had an open invitation to live in the dowager house there for the remainder of her days if she wished.

  But could she simply leave Marcus and he not come after her? Especially at Grayfield? Given the way he had kissed her in the carriage the previous evening, she sincerely doubted it.

  In truth, she wanted him to come after her, or at least a part of her did. She was tired of the running and the lies. She was tired of being Lady X. More than that, she longed for a family of her own, a husband and children running about under foot, even though there were those who would say that age was against her.

  There had been a time that she thought all of those dreams lost to her, believing that Marcus would never forgive her for her sins. Yet now that he was returned to town, he pursued her as if she was the greatest treasure he could ever hope to possess. Silly, foolish thing that she was, a part of her believed him. More than that, she wanted him for herself. She did not want him to marry another. Yet she also did not see how she could prevent such a thing from occurring either, especially when she kept pushing unmarried young ladies at him left and right.

  Soon, there would come a point when he would proposition her. It had almost happened last night, and she was not so foolish as to think it would not happen again. After all, he had once been a notorious rake, a man that had kept many mistresses happy and satisfied over the years. He had also not made it a secret that he wanted her. Would she be strong enough to resist him if he asked her to share his bed, even for only one night?

  She doubted it and that, she decided as the carriage rolled to a stop outside of her town home, might just be her downfall, the single decision that would cost her the life that she had worked to build for herself. She also knew that she was unlikely to say no. Given the choice, she would most likely damn herself in the eyes of society simply to spend one night in Marcus' arms.

  Chapter Nine

  As evening, and the Saintwood's Moonlight Ball, arrived, Marcus was not in any better of a mood than he had been when he had watched Caroline drive away in her carriage. If anything, his mood was slightly worse. Not even an afternoon spent pummeling things at Gentleman's Jackson's salon had eased his anger.

  Then, of course, there was Caroline herself.

  At some point during the afternoon, she had taken the absurd notion into her head that Marcus might do better at selecting a bride if he had more choices. Therefore, she had sent a messenger to his home with a list of young ladies who would be attending the Satinwood's affair that evening, along with notations on each one, including how suitable she thought the lady might be to Marcus' needs in a wife. While he was certain she had meant to be helpful, in reality, she had done nothing more than annoy him further.

  Now, standing in the foyer of the Saintwood's lavish Mayfair home, he was fairly seething and ready to snap at the first person who so much as looked at him askance. So much for taming his temper it would seem.

  "If you are about to take someone's head off, Breckenright, at least have the good sense not to do it on the lady's carpets. Ursula Saintwood is a fanatic about cleanliness."

  Marcus looked up to see Nicholas Rosemont leaning against a wall as if he had been there all along. Damn the man and his ability to appear as if from nowhere. Then again, if he were less stealthy, he would not have been so universally feared. And, more often than not, assumed to be a spy for the Home Office. Which Marcus could state unequivocally, Nicholas was not. He could have been, however.

  "Candlewood." Marcus offered him a cut nod. "What brings you here this evening? I didn't think this was your usual form of entertainment as of late."

  With a careless shrug that probably belied true intentions, Nicholas pushed away from the wall and came to stand next to Marcus as he gazed up to where Lady Berkshire, who was recently out of mourning, stood speaking with Lady Chilton.

  "Still after her to warm your bed, are you?" Marcus couldn't help but take the verbal swipe, even at someone as close to him as the duke was, so rotten was his mood.

  "Careful, my friend," Candlewood cautioned quietly but with an air of underlying danger to his words. "You would do well to remember who has helped you these last many years."

  Marcus briefly nodded once in understanding. He would not ask forgiveness for his misstep, nor would Rosemont offer it. The singular nod would suffice. "Caroline has me at odds with myself," he admitted grumpily. "Blast the interfering wench! Can she not see that I desire her to warm my bed and no other? These other chits might make fine wives." Then he paused. "For someone else."

  Turning back to his friend, Nicholas' eyes were hooded, allowing little emotion to show through. For someone like Marcus, however, who had known the other man for years, there was something slightly dangerous glittering in their depths. As if he, too, had the very same thoughts about another woman.

  "Then perhaps the lady needs some convincing."

  That surprised Marcus. He had been certain, given the duke's repeated warnings that Marcus should stay away from Caroline, that Candlewood meant to rebuke him. "Why the change of
heart?" Because honestly, if Nicholas was allowing him a clear path to Caroline, Marcus would take it.

  Inclining his head, Candlewood seemed to consider the question for a moment. "Let us just say that I have happened upon some information recently that makes me think our lovely little mystery needs a keeper." He glanced around, making certain that no one else was listening. "Miss Turner has a number of secrets, ones that could permanently damage her reputation. I think you are already well aware of this. She does not seem to have a care about them becoming common knowledge, but those of us who have known her since childhood? Well, let us just say that we fear for her. Very much so."

  "Is she in some sort of danger?" The very idea made Marcus' heart leap into his throat.

  Shaking his head, Candlewood looked away as if deciding how much to reveal. "Not as such. However, she walks a very thin line between respectability and ruin. She would do well to have a keeper." Then he assessed Marcus frankly. "In my opinion, it should be you."

  "Why do you even care?" Marcus had asked Nicholas to keep an eye on Caroline while he was in Bath. Had the man grown overly attached to her? If so, Marcus felt little compunction against putting his friend's eyes out. Even if the man was a bloody duke.

  Candlewood once more seemed to consider his answer for a long moment before speaking. "She is a good woman and has been a friend to those I care about. She championed my sister's match with Radcliffe when no others would, though she did so privately rather than draw more unwanted attention to Julia," he finally offered. "I like her. I have also seen the two of you together and know that what you share is rare, even if she is too stubborn or too fearful to acknowledge it." Just then, his eyes took on a dark edge, one Marcus did not care for. "I lost that which I loved and only now can hope to recover it. Do not make the same mistake and do not allow Lady Caroline to make it for you."