Ladies of Deception 02 - Misleading Lord Martineau

by Ginny Hartman

  Misleading Lord Martineau

  Ladies of Deception Book 2

  A Novel

  Ginny Hartman

  Copyright © 2013 by Ginny Hartman

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design by Ginny Hartman

  Book design by Ginny Hartman

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  First printing: September 2013

  ISNB-13 978-1492263944

  To Kip, my real-life hero, for making my life better than any fairytale.

  Prologue

  Friday May 4th, 1810

  Elliot stepped into the ballroom and handed his card to the Major Domo and waited anxiously while he was announced.

  “The Honorable Elliot Martineau,” the man intoned over the sounds of clinking glasses, gossiping voices, and the orchestra playing a lively country tune.

  Elliot stepped into the stifling ballroom and quickly scanned the room for the one person he had come to see—Lady Felicity Pemberton. Just as his eyes found her in the crowd her head turned, her eyes automatically finding his as if some unseen force was drawing them together. He instinctively smiled at her and watched as her face lit up in a radiant smile in return, her emerald eyes sparkling brighter than the jewels hanging from her throat. He reached her in three quick strides, bowing slightly and offering her his arm as he led her out onto the dance floor.

  As if the fates were aligned in his favor, the orchestra struck up a waltz and he gathered Felicity into his arms as they began to move flawlessly across the floor in perfect rhythm with one another.

  Elliot studied her, soaking up her magnificent beauty before asking, “Is your father in attendance tonight?”

  “He’s not, he wasn’t feeling well, said something about eating a bad sausage. Aunt Agatha accompanied me.”

  Disappointment mixed with relief overcame him. He had planned to talk to Lord Pemberton this evening in regards to his desire to seek Felicity’s hand in marriage. At twenty-five-years of age it was the first time Elliot had ever seriously courted a lady but from the moment he had met Felicity he knew that she was different. He had spent the last four years sowing his wild oats knowing someday he’d have to settle down and take a wife. His parents, the Viscount and Viscountess Martineau had rarely ever pressured him to take a wife and produce an heir, unlike most of the men of his acquaintance who were constantly being badgered about their duties by their parents. He had always considered himself lucky to not have that pressure heaped upon his shoulders.

  Felicity on the other hand had been pressured to make an advantageous match from the moment she debuted last season. Her father had practiced barely concealed patience during her first season, allowing her the freedom to entertain and decline what offers of courtship and marriage she would, but now that it was her second season and she was eighteen, he was getting more persistent that she make a match and make one quickly.

  Felicity knew that her father had a penchant for partaking in numerous vices that drained the limited resources he had remaining; from gambling to setting up mistresses with expensive tastes. He had no intention to downsize the lifestyle he was accustomed to living, instead seeing his only child, his daughter as his salvation. Her marriage to a wealthy gentleman would help set his own estate to rights and ensure that his lavish lifestyle continued.

  Felicity had been fearful that her father would end up arranging a match for her before she would have the chance to find somebody she loved; somebody she could foresee spending the rest of her life with. She had grown up watching her parent’s misery and had vowed she’d never willingly enter into a similar situation. It may be naivety on her part, but she had always dreamed of finding her one true love. She had almost given up on that quest when she had had the good fortune to meet Elliot Martineau. She had instantly been attracted to his virile good looks; he was lean yet strong, with broad shoulders and perfectly masculine hands that ended in long tapering fingers. His pale blue eyes were in stark contrast to his dark hair and tanned skin. He had high cheek bones and a straight aristocratic nose and when he smiled, one dimple formed on the side of his perfectly sculpted lips. At the appearance of that dimple, she had been ready to wed the man right then and there.

  Luckily for her, she had soon learned that there was more to Elliot than just a handsome face; he was warm, witty, charming and also in line to become the next Viscount Martineau at his father’s death. She had inquired and learned that his family had plenty of wealth and she knew that would please her father enormously, for it was his one requirement in her marriage. In short, he was everything she had ever dreamed of and he was as interested in her as she was him.

  Elliot’s grip on her waist tightened as he pulled her closer to him. She felt the familiar surge of electricity course through her veins at his touch, a touch that she had craved instantaneously and that had never left her disappointed. When the waltz ended, Elliot hadn’t let go of her. She could see the reluctance in his eyes and wished that proprieties didn’t dictate that they separate and find other dance partners.

  Finally Elliot let her go. “Come stroll with me in the gardens, it’s quite stuffy in here.”

  Her head turned to seek out her Aunt Agatha who had agreed to chaperone her in her parent’s absence. Elliot quickly directed her towards the French doors leading out to the gardens, “Don’t you dare ask your aunt for permission to stroll through the gardens with me, you know she’d be horrified and refuse you permission.”

  “Don’t you give a care for my reputation?”

  Without looking at her he replied, “Of course I do, but you know that if I ruined it I would make it right by marrying you.”

  Felicity inhaled sharply, “Do you mean that?” She had stopped walking and stared up into his face, searching it for answers.

  “Of course I do, haven’t I told you that I love you?” His smile was all at once engaging and boyish and she thought her heart would burst with happiness. Of course he hadn’t told her that he loved her before, though she had suspected he had for some time now.

  Before she could respond he had grabbed her hand and was leading her off once more, “As much as I wish it were, this isn’t the place to profess our undying love. Let’s find somewhere more private where I can show you how I feel.”

  A secret thrill shot through her heart at his words and she knew in that moment that she would follow him anywhere, do anything for him.

  Her hand felt so small in his as he led her through mazes of trees and shrubbery, eventually coming to a stop in front of a secluded gardener’s cottage covered in crawling ivy that was quite far from the main house. The small brick dwelling was dark and looked abandoned though not neglected. Part of her was anxious to get back to the ball, knowing her aunt would be furious if she noted her absence but another, much larger part of her wanted to remain with Elliot.

  He leaned into her, taking her face in his hands. “This is a much better place to talk about our love.” He leaned in and kissed her reverently. Before she had a chance to respond he pulled back and said, “Oh Felicity, I love you so much.”

  She reached up and placed both hands on his chest, “I love you too, Elliot.”

  He smiled at her as he let out a low chuckle then scooped her into his arms and t
wirled her around. He watched as she threw her head back and laughed. Her milky skin was bathed in moonlight and he watched as a lock of ebony hair came loose and slid down around her collarbone. He stopped twirling her and let her feet slide back down to the ground, steadying her before reaching for that stray lock of hair and brushing it back from her skin. He leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss to her collar, feeling the warmth of her satin skin beneath his lips and inhaling her musky scent mixed with the jasmine perfume she wore.

  He cupped her waist with his hands and slowly ran them up and down her rib cage, feeling her slender frame beneath his hands. His lips moved slowly up her throat scorching a path to her ear. When she reached up and coiled her hands in his hair and pulled him back down to her décolletage he groaned, knowing he had to have her, had to show her just how much he loved her.

  He removed one hand from her body to reach back and jiggle the handle on the door of the cottage. He was relieved when the door pushed open with a loud creek and without separating himself from her, he managed to guide them both into the dark confines of the house. She didn’t question him or protest as he led her silently to the dark mass in the corner of the small room which proved to be a bed. He guided her to lie down beside him as he scooped her body into his and held her firmly against him. Their lips found each other’s of their own accord, giving and partaking with a hunger neither of them had ever known.

  When one of Elliot’s hands reached up and began unhooking the back of her gown Felicity knew now was the time to stop him if she was going to, but instead of protesting, she reached her arms out and allowed him to gently slip her gloves from her hands followed next by her gown. There was no turning back.

  Chapter 1

  Thursday April 14th, 1814

  Elliot awoke with a start. His forehead was drenched with perspiration and his palms were clenched tightly at his sides. He had to will his body to relax as he reached one unfurled hand up to wipe the hair from his forehead. He glanced around the darkened room and realized it was still the middle of the night. He laid back down amidst the numerous pillows lining his bed and let out a sigh. It would prove to be a long night.

  The reoccurring nightmare that had been plaguing him on and off for the last four years had been the cause of his sudden wakefulness. He could still feel his heart beating frantically in his chest as he watched the brocade curtains hanging from the window flitter back and forth as the cool nights breeze came in from the open window. Anything to avoid closing his eyes and having to see her face once more.

  He couldn’t believe that four years after her mysterious disappearance Felicity’s face could still disturb him so. Or maybe he could; he had been so in love with her, and if he was being honest with himself, he still was. He had tried so hard to dispel her memory once he realized he’d never see her again. It had been the most glorious night of his life; the night that he had professed his love to Felicity both in word and in body in the abandoned gardener’s cottage on the Tennyson’s estate. He had imagined life would only get better as soon as he was able to properly ask for her hand in marriage and make her his wife.

  Little did he know, that magnificent night would be the last truly good night of his life, for on the morrow his heart would be torn from his chest. He had awoken early the next morning, eager to call on Lord Pemberton and make his intents towards Felicity known. As far as he knew, her father should have no objections to his desire to wed his daughter and so not only was he eager, he was confident that his mission would be accomplished.

  Setting out to the Pemberton’s townhouse, he hadn’t a care in the world besides seeing his beloved once more. Every minute away from her felt like a minute of his life wasted. Only when he was with her did he feel truly happy, truly complete. It had been a particularly sunny morning, the normally foggy London air was abnormally crisp and fresh. There hadn’t been a single sense of foreboding in his body as he made his way past St. James Palace on his way to Piccadilly Street where the Pemberton’s townhouse was located, pausing briefly to behold the imposing structure and thinking of the possibility of that’s where he and Felicity could be wed.

  When he reached the familiar brick façade of their home, he eagerly waltzed up to the front door and knocked. He was all lightheartedness and good cheer when their butler, Ramsey, answered the door, but his normally placid demeanor was instantly replaced by a stony resolve as his eyes beheld Elliot. His typical jovial voice had been replaced by a menacing scowl as he at once began shutting the heavy wooden door as he spoke. “You are to never show your face here ever again, my lord.”

  Elliot had frozen in shock as he watched the man slam the door and heard a clicking of the bolt, indicating he had locked it against his presence. For the first time that day, he felt in his gut that something must be wrong. Not letting Ramsey’s brusqueness deter him, he raised his fist and began pounding furiously on the door. “Ramsey, please, there must be some mistake. I need to speak to Lord Pemberton at once; this must be some sort of misunderstanding.”

  Elliot’s pounding fist fell to his side as he felt the door give way, but Ramsey refused to open it more than a couple of inches, just enough to stick his hawkish nose out of the opening and hiss, “There is no mistake my lord. I have strict instructions to inform you that you are no longer welcome at this or any of the Pemberton residences. Please vacate the premises immediately or I’ll be forced to send for the Bow Street Runners.”

  Elliot reeled back, stunned. “You can’t be serious. Is this some kind of hoax? Where’s Lady Felicity? Please just let me speak to her.”

  “Lady Felicity is dead to you, my lord. Now leave before I’m forced to make good on my threat.”

  Elliot turned to leave, but by no means was he accepting defeat. He quickly retreated to his own home to formulate a plan of action. He started by sending a missive to Lord Pemberton, explaining his desire to wed Felicity but he had never heard a word in return. He desperately showed up to every rout and assembly he could in hopes of cornering either her father or her and demanding an explanation, but it was all to no avail. When a week had passed with nary a glimpse of any member of the Pemberton household, he decided it was time to pay a house call once more.

  The reception he received this time around made his last visit seem warm and welcoming by comparison. Ramsey had stepped onto the porch and physically shoved Elliot back, causing him to stumble on the steps behind him before yelling loud enough to make a scene, “Come here again and I promise you will regret it. Lady Felicity is gone and she’s not coming back.”

  Though he knew that he was causing a scene and that his actions would only be fodder for gossip, he couldn’t resist asking, “Where did she go?” and though he was hopeful, he honestly knew that he wouldn’t get an answer. He stood on the walk in front of the Pemberton house and watched as Ramsey scurried back into the house and slammed the door in response. Dejected, Elliot had no other choice but to leave.

  He had spent the first year after her disappearance doing everything within his power to search for her, to find any clue that would possibly lead him to her or at least help him find out what had happened.

  That year was perhaps the worst of his life. His heart had shattered into a million pieces and he had become a recluse from society, refusing to even look at another woman. But slowly, as the years went by, he felt his heart growing hardened and more bitter. And though it had never been pieced back together, he was able to somehow manage to find a way to continue living, although he had never truly moved on. He begun hiding his despondency behind a façade of arrogant repartee and had become an infamous womanizer, albeit a rake. He never allowed himself to get too close or to linger with any one woman for too long. The way he saw it, they were a mere distraction from his pain but once he started feeling again, he’d move on.

  And he never dallied with or even looked at any dark haired beauties. In fact, he did everything he could to avoid the memory of Felicity. His tastes ever since had run to fair-haired girls
or girls with auburn locks, anything that was as opposite to Felicity as he could find.

  Though his body was exhausted, his mind wouldn’t shut down. The minute he closed his eyes he’d see Felicity’s beautiful face, her almond shaped emerald green eyes were haunted, not sparkling with life and laughter as they had been the last time he’d seen them. In his dream he was always reaching for her, attempting to save her from falling from a cliff but the closer he got to rescuing her, the further she’d fall until she disappeared into the deep chasm completely. That’s when he’d wake up with the sense of her loss renewed all over again in his heart.

  He didn’t know how long he stared at the striped paper on his walls before he finally fell asleep, refusing to close his eyes until the exhaustion overcame him and swept him away into a fitful slumber.

  ***

  It was even later in the morning than usual when Elliot finally pulled himself from the warmth of his bed. His valet, a thin, small-framed man named Charles was already alert and anticipating his needs. Once he was expertly attired in fawn colored breeches, white shirt, navy coat, and perfectly starched cravat, he lowered himself into a burgundy leather winged back chair and pulled on his hessians.

  He stood up just as Charles said, “You have a visitor, milord.”

  He arched one dark eyebrow, “And who might that be?”

  “The Duke of Kerrington, milord.”

  Elliot was grateful for the distraction his good friend the duke would present. He wanted nothing more than to forget all about the horrendous night he had just endured and the awful memories it had sparked.

  Entering the drawing room he saw Pierce standing in front of the fireplace, inspecting the trinkets on the mantle. He was almost positive he was feigning interest in the unimportant knick knacks so he cleared his throat loudly and waited for Pierce to turn his attention towards him.