Seducing The Vengeful Marquess (Steamy Historical Regency)

by Lucinda Nelson

  This surprised him, but he didn’t deny her. They mounted their horses and rode to the end of the woodland, both of them silent. Both of them thinking about what had just happened.

  And how good it had felt.

  Chapter 14

  Lord Philip Everton, Marquess of Blackhill

  After what had just happened between them, Philip was reeling. He felt like a beast, having pushed her down into the dirt like a rutting animal. In a matter of moments, his control had utterly abandoned him.

  Until she said his name. He came away with a sharp intake of breath and the pair of them separated like two opposing magnets. It had taken him a moment to catch his breath and during that time he felt like he could hear voices spinning through his head.

  Theodore and Bradley reminding him that this was exactly what he’d been trying to do. To spoil her and break her heart as an act of vengeance.

  And George. Telling him that he was kind. That he was not… this.

  Philip’s mind was a mess.

  When he suggested that he take Loraine home, she adamantly refused. In fact she seemed to recover from what had just happened faster than he did. She wanted to go for another ride.

  He complied, because he didn’t want to reveal how much their kiss had shaken him up. They rode for a while, mostly in silence, each of them stuck in their own brains.

  When they got back to the house, they dismounted in the courtyard and Loraine turned to go inside. Before she did, he reached out and caught her wrist. “Do you think me a cad?” He asked, with a concerned look on his face that wasn’t as insincere as he’d meant it to be.

  That was the trouble with Loraine. Everything that was meant to be insincere – like his attraction to her – was starting to feel very real. “No,” she admitted, as she looked back at him. “I think we lost control.”

  He smiled a little, trying to revive the mischief between them. “We?”

  She smiled too and shook her head at him. “You’re incorrigible.”

  Philip’s smile grew into a wide grin. She said goodbye and he released her so that she could go inside. He didn’t leave until the door closed behind her.

  ***

  Miss Loraine Beauchamp

  In his absence, Loraine found herself in the library again. She picked up The Aeneid and thought about the sadness in his eyes when he’d spoken about it.

  She decided to re-read it.

  Loraine read all evening and late into the night. And when she woke up in the morning, the first thing she did was start reading again. Though she’d read it before, she felt like she was reading it for the first time.

  Through Philip’s eyes.

  She didn’t stop reading until she heard someone clear their throat. She looked up and saw Tristan standing in the doorway of the library. “Oh,” she said. “Tristan. I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” Tristan said. “Mrs. Barrow did announce me.”

  Loraine blinked and put the book aside. “Don’t be sorry. I was distracted.”

  “What are you reading?” Tristan asked, as he came to sit beside her on the reading seat by the window.

  “The Aeneid.”

  Tristan picked up the book and smiled down at it. “Again?”

  Loraine nodded. She knew that Tristan was a little surprised to find her re-reading The Aeneid. Given how obsessed she’d been with Ancient Greek, he was no doubt surprised to see her reading anything in Latin.

  But he didn’t press the matter. He put the book aside and looked at her. “I have news,” he admitted. “About Lord Blackhill.” He looked as if this news should make her happy, but she felt dread coil in her belly.

  “Oh?” She said, while she tried to disguise her nervousness. “What is it?”

  “He doesn’t have the best reputation,” Tristan said. “In fact, it’s rather awful.”

  “How so?” She didn’t want to hear it, but she knew she had to. She swallowed and tried to steel herself.

  “He’s a known rogue,” Tristan went on. “A womanizer and a gambler.”

  “Could it just be rumor?” She asked, hopefully.

  “I’m afraid not,” Tristan answered, seemingly without even an inkling that Loraine might not want to know. After all, she had begged him to do this for her. And she’d wanted to know the worst of him, so that she could justify what she was going to do.

  “How do you know?”

  Tristan’s cheeks went pinker. “Well, I’ve been spending a bit of time with Lord Theodore Brand,” he said, tripping over his words a little. “For you, of course,” he added quickly. “To get information.”

  Loraine wasn’t a fool. And she had a woman’s intuition. She raised her brow slowly, but didn’t say anything.

  She wouldn’t question him on this subject, because she was all too aware of how much it might mortify him. But if she wasn’t mistaken, it seemed rather like Tristan was fond of Lord Brand.

  “I thought Lord Brand was Philip’s friend? Why would he say a bad word about him?”

  Tristan frowned at her and she realized her mistake. When had she started calling him Philip? She had a flashback to the woods, when she’d felt his hand fisting her skirt. She remembered him begging her to call him Philip.

  And she’d complied.

  But Tristan, kind as he was, didn’t mention her tiny faux pas. “I do not think he considered it badmouthing,” Tristan said.

  “Of course,” Loraine said, with an eye roll. “Men wouldn’t think such a thing to be insulting. Lord Brand probably thought he was singing his praises.”

  In the wake of her derisive remark, Tristan looked almost hurt. She reached out and put her hand on his. “Oh, my darling, I don’t mean you.”

  This seemed to appease him and he squeezed her hand in return. “Go on,” she encouraged.

  “He said that Lord Blackhill has-” He stopped and blushed again.

  “Has what?”

  “Has…” Again, he hesitated, but managed to soldier on this time. “Has ‘had more women than a rooster in a henhouse’.”

  Loraine stared at him, speechless.

  “His words,” Tristan added, shyly.

  Loraine’s jaw tightened. “What else did you learn?” She asked, in a tight voice which made Tristan look increasingly nervous.

  He hesitated.

  “Tristan, what else did you learn?” She pushed.

  “I spoke to a friend of mine,” he went on. “Lady Mary Reynolds. Lord Blackhill was courting her for a little while. She absolutely detests the man.”

  “On what grounds?”

  Tristan got quiet again.

  “Did he take advantage?” Loraine asked, suddenly.

  “I believe that he actively encouraged her infatuation, then stopped visiting and would not return her letters. When next she heard from him, he was already courting another woman.”

  Loraine felt as if her blood was being boiled.

  Because, God damn her, she’d been fooled. Fooled by a man who she’d been warned against. Fooled into kissing him. Into allowing him to treat her like a breeding mare, pushed down onto the forest floor.

  She was seething and her hands were beginning to shake.

  “Loraine? Are you well? You’re shaking,” Tristan said, urgently.

  “I am fine,” she said, though her voice was like steel. “I am more clear-headed than I’ve been for days.”

  Her iron countenance seemed to unnerve him. And then she had an idea. “Can you invite Lady Reynolds to a ball I’ll be hosting?”

  “Since when are you hosting a ball?”

  “Since now.”

  Tristan agreed, albeit reluctantly, to her request. When he asked her if she’d like to look over some more Ancient Greek texts, Loraine admitted that she wasn’t really in the mood.

  Looking disheartened, Tristan left. And though Loraine regretted not having spent more time with him that afternoon, she couldn’t think about anything besides her anger.

  Her pride and
her ego had been stung, and she had no intention of letting Philip win anymore battles.

  So she decided to give her original plan an extra push and decided that she would host a ball. As soon as Tristan left, she told her aunt and Mrs. Barrow so that they could start preparing.

  Her aunt was absolutely delighted and swore that it would be the best ball ever thrown.

  Mrs. Barrow looked suspicious, but didn’t question Loraine on the subject. And so they started making the arrangements.

  And all the while, Loraine plotted what she would do.

  ***

  Lord Philip Everton, Marquess of Blackhill

  “So,” Theodore said, as he dealt the cards. “Did you hear?”

  They were at Bradley’s that evening. Bradley had purchased a number of choice whiskeys and they were having a makeshift tasting session.

  “Hear what?” Philip asked, as he sipped from a particularly wonderful single bourbon. “About the ball of course.”

  “What ball?”

  “The ball being thrown by your lady love,” Theodore answered, with a broad smile.

  Philip frowned and looked up from his cards. “She’s not throwing a ball,” he said, rather quickly. “I’d know if she was throwing a ball.”

  Theodore’s smile widened and he looked at Bradley, who seemed to be disguising a laugh behind his hand. “Oh dear, oh dear,” Theodore said, in a satire of sincere sympathy. “Perhaps Miss Beauchamp is not as smitten as you thought.”

  “You’re teasing me,” Philip decided and tried to look indifferent by returning his attention to the cards.

  “He’s not, I’m afraid,” Bradley said. “I got my invitation two days ago.”

  “I did too,” Theodore said, watching Philip’s face for any sign that he might care more than he was letting on. And hiding that he did was becoming increasingly difficult. “Have you seen her recently?”

  “Well… no,” Philip admitted. “But that’s by my own choice. It’s all part of the plan.” Part of the plan to make her wild for him, by playing hard to get.

  Women didn’t want men who fell over their feet trying to get to them. And Philip had done plenty of that the last time he’d seen Loraine, over a week ago. He’d kicked himself for the way he’d behaved when last he’d seen her.

  None of that had been part of the plan, and it could so easily have put her off him. But he blamed his behavior on how damned irresistible she was. How could a man be blamed for wanting her?

  So he’d decided to put some space between them. Make her want him even more, and clear his head of her influence. Remind himself why he was doing this.

  In an effort to keep himself from forgetting again, for even a moment, he went to the graveyard every evening and spent an hour with Edgar’s tombstone.

  That helped a great deal and his anger once again felt like a living, breathing thing inside of him.

  “Sounds like the game you’re playing with her isn’t working,” Theodore remarked.

  “She’s clever,” Philip said. “She’s just playing a game of her own, I’m sure. She doesn’t want to make it too easy for me.” He said this as though it was the absolute truth, but he wasn’t so sure. He felt a slither of insecurity, because he was starting to wonder if she truly wasn’t going to invite him.

  “Is everyone invited?” He asked.

  “Everyone we know of,” Bradley answered, with a shrug. “It’s the talk of the town.”

  “Yes, I imagine it would be,” he grumbled. The mysterious Miss Loraine Beauchamp hosting a ball. Every person with an invitation would attend, without a shadow of a doubt.

  And he had to get an invitation.

  The following morning, Philip decided to visit Loraine. He went dressed in his best clothes and knocked on the door. It was the head of house, the one who didn’t like him, who answered.

  Once again, she looked him up and down. “Can I help you, my Lord?”

  “I was hoping to see Miss Beauchamp,” Philip said. “Is she in?”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Barrow answered. “But she already has a guest.”

  “I’m sure she won’t mind my joining,” Philip said, assuming that it must be a lady friend. But then he saw Loraine come out of the drawing room.

  Hand in hand with a man.

  Philip’s lips parted and he was so shocked that he didn’t even have the capacity to hide it from his expression. Loraine didn’t see him.

  She was looking at the man she was with, her cheeks pink and her smile wide.

  He was not quite a handsome man. More pretty than handsome. With springy curls and baby blue eyes.

  As they walked across the foyer, towards the stairs, Loraine looked back at him and pushed a curl back over his ear as they walked.

  Just as she did so, she saw Philip.

  She did not let go of the gentleman’s hand. “Oh, Lord Blackhill,” she said. “What a surprise.”

  It didn’t sound like a pleasant surprise.

  “What brings you here?”

  He felt this hot, coiling feeling in his belly. It made every muscle in his body tight and stiff. He was this straining force, about to explode. He looked down at their hands, still entwined, and the feeling just got worse.

  “I had hoped to take you for a walk,” Philip said, stiffly.

  “Oh, what a dear,” she answered, with a smile. “But I’m afraid I’ve already promised my afternoon to Tristan.”

  “Tristan,” Philip echoed, and the name tasted like rot in his mouth.

  “Pardon me,” Loraine said. “I meant Lord Garth, Baron of Hillingsworth.”

  “I see,” he said. “Very well then.”

  He turned to leave, because he couldn’t stay and look at them a moment longer. “Have a pleasant day!” He heard her call after him.

  Philip went home in a rage, his temper like a lit fuse. And it was only made worse when he went inside to find his brother smiling down at a folded piece of ornate paper in his hand.

  “What’s that?” Philip snapped. He snatched the paper and looked at it. He was so full of feeling that he could barely get his eyes to focus on the words.

  And when they did, at last, he wished they hadn’t.

  It was an invitation to Loraine’s ball, addressed to George and no one else.

  Chapter 15

  Lord Philip Everton, Marquess of Blackhill

  Theodore could not stop laughing and the sound made Philip grate his teeth. He’d gone to tell Theodore the news, though God only knew why when his friend was determined to mock him for it. He’d found him in the stables, brushing his favorite horse.

  “I did tell you it’s impossible,” he said. “She can’t be won.”

  “And yet she let me kiss her less than two weeks ago. She let me do more than kiss her.”

  “Perhaps that’s the problem,” Theodore said, with a shrug. “You pushed for too much, too soon.”

  Philip seethed in silence following that remark, until Theodore piped up again.

  “Oh, I meant to say that I know the gentleman she was with.”

  Philip looked up quite suddenly. “You do?”

  “Yes,” Theodore answered, as if it wasn’t spectacular news. But to Philip, it was.

  He’d been thinking about that man non-stop since he’d seen them together. “What do you know about him?”

  Theodore shrugged again. “A kind chap. A bit shy. I wouldn’t have thought him as being much of a man for the ladies.”

  Philip didn’t question this. He thought it would be just like Loraine to pursue an unusual gentleman. He clenched his teeth. “Do you know where I can find him?”

  Theodore quirked a brow. “Why? Are you going to threaten him?”

  “I want to ask him some questions.”

  Theodore looked like he didn’t quite believe him, but didn’t care enough to keep what he knew a secret. “I know that his cousin owns a restaurant in town. And that he eats there every Friday morning.”

  And that was all Philip needed to know. The ne
xt day, which just so happened to be Friday, he visited the restaurant Theodore had given him the directions to.

  He was early, so when he first walked inside he couldn’t see Lord Garth. He didn’t order any food, but sat tapping his foot under the table impatiently.