A Matter of Choice
by Laura Landon
Published by Prairie Muse Publishing
Copyright © 2010 Laura Landon
Smashwords Edition
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Chapter 1
Joshua Camden, ninth Marquess of Montfort, saw her in the distance, and smiled.
Even though she stood with her back to him, his gut tightened when her fiery copper hair glistened. The unique coloring was like a magnet that drew him to her. She was truly a vision of loveliness: her small, lithe body waiting to be held, the smooth, creamy skin of her shoulders bared in anticipation of his touch, her long, graceful neck begging to be kissed.
She was almost hidden in the shadowy darkness off the stone pathway in a far off corner of the garden. There wasn’t a doubt why she was here. Why she’d chosen this secluded spot for their rendezvous.
The clouds chose that exact moment to let the moonlight wash over her. His body reacted with alarming desperation and he hastened his steps.
He was glad she was so lost in thought she didn’t hear him approach. He wanted to take her by surprise, to hold her willing body in his arms, touch her supple flesh in the palms of his hands, taste her lips. No matter what the ton’s expectations were, he had no plans of marrying anytime soon. He’d take his pleasures where and when he wanted. And right now he wanted the willing widow, Lady Paxton. The message she’d sent him couldn’t have been clearer. She was available. No strings attached. No strings expected. Exactly the way Joshua wanted it.
The moon slid behind a cloud, shielding the two of them in the shadows. It was perfect. In one swift movement, he stepped up behind her. He deftly wrapped one arm around her waist while the other hand skimmed her torso, over the smooth satin of her gown. When he felt the swell of her breast, he moved his fingers inward. He cupped one breast, letting its heaviness rest in the palm of his hand. Her gasp of surprise made him smile.
The feel of her was perfection.
With a sigh of satisfaction, he lowered his head and kissed her neck. The clean scent of lilacs and roses and other intoxicating smells he couldn’t name wafted across his senses and he moaned in pleasure.
“You are even lovelier than I remembered,” he muttered against her soft flesh. “I’ve been dreaming of this all night.”
He felt the sharp intake of her breath, heard her cry of surprise, and felt her move within his grasp. He steadied her as she struggled and let his hands span her narrow waist. Then she twisted out of his arms to face him.
His mind barely had time to register that the woman he held was not Lady Paxton before her hand swung forward and connected with his cheek. The blow she delivered was hard enough to snap his head to the side. The shock of what he’d done calamitous enough to send his senses reeling.
+++
“Bloody hell,” he muttered, staring at her in shocked disbelief. “You’re not...”
“I most certainly…am…not!”
Lady Allison Townsend glared at the man who’d manhandled her with an anger so intense she saw red. Recognition dawned and she glared at the Marquess of Montfort as disgust oozed from every pore of her body. With her lips clamped tight and her fists anchored on her hips, she raised her shoulders in battle-ready preparedness. When she was sure she had Montfort’s full attention, she countered his step backward and began to verbally flay him within an inch of his rakish hide.
“How dare you,” she hissed, straightening her already ramrod stiff spine even further.
He lifted his hand and rubbed his jaw. She hoped she’d hurt him.
“My abject apologies, my lady. I thought you were…I mean, I thought—”
She listened to him stutter like a schoolboy desperate to invent an excuse for his behavior, then stop as if he realized he could hardly reveal the woman for whom she’d been mistaken.
“There is no point in making excuses, my lord. Your reputation as a rake and a scoundrel is widely known. Every female old enough to attend her first ball has been warned about you.”
He arched his brows. “Really?”
If what he’d done flustered him at all, his embarrassment only lasted a moment. Then he smiled.
Her temper raged hotter when she saw the wicked grin on his face. “You are despicable,” she hissed. “Is it normal for you to accost unsuspecting women and throw your unwelcome attentions upon them?”
He thought barely a moment. “To be honest, most women don’t find my attentions unwelcome.”
She sucked in a breath teeming with fury. Before her stood a perfect example of the kind of man she’d always detested. Men like the Marquess of Montfort were the reason she refused to marry, the reason she would never trust her heart again.
She gave him as cold a glare as possible in the darkness. To her frustration, he ignored her and struck a casual pose that caused her heart to beat faster. She hated that he was so handsome. Hated even more that the feel of his hands on her body caused her blood to boil. But most of all, she hated that his smile caused molten lava to seep through her veins.
She took a step backwards, stopping when the trunk of a large tree kept her from separating herself further from him. She pitied the poor women who were so weak that they succumbed to his charm and good looks.
“I admit,” he continued, “that I made a mistake...”
He stepped closer and anchored his hand against the tree. He was close. Too close. She ducked beneath his outstretched arm, needing to put space between them.
“…and I offer my most sincere apology.” He bowed most graciously.
She was almost ready to overlook what he’d done until he lifted his head. There was a broad smile on his face. A smile as alluring and confident as any she’d ever seen. A smile she was sure he’d used on countless women.
“But I cannot lie,” he lifted her gloved hand in his, “and say I didn’t enjoy myself. You are a very beautiful woman. But doubtless you’ve been told that numerous times.”
Allison pulled her hand out of his grasp. “You are disgusting,” she said with a renewed flare of her temper. “You are a rogue of the worst kind. So confident of your good looks and charm that you think every woman will submit to your overtures.”
He shrugged his shoulders as if her rejection was inconsequential. “I don’t usually have problems in that area,” he admitted, his mouth widening to a breathtaking grin. “We all have to make use of the advantages with which we were born.”
“How conceited. I’m sure you think your title and your looks are all you need to have every door opened to you. That with only those two attributes, every woman in London will clamor to be your wife.”
His smile wavered. His eyebrows shot upward. “What makes you think I’m searching for a wife?”
Allison studied his features. A deep frown now covered his forehead. “Perhaps that’s not your goal right at this moment, but the day will come when you will need an heir. A legitimate heir. Then you will look for a wife. And heaven help the poor, unsuspecting female who will be required to sacrifice her happiness when she marries you.”
“I hate to disappoint you, my lady. But as to your first accusation, I have not made it a practice to leave illegitimate offspring scattered throughout England.”
Allison had the good grace to feel her cheeks warm at his blunt words. She prayed he couldn’t notice in the dark.
“As to the second, why are you so sure being married to me would be such a trial?”
“Because there isn’t a woman alive who doesn’t want to be proud to take her husband’s name and walk through Society with her head held high.”
“And you think that would be impossible for the woman who married me?”
“It would if that woman were naïve enough to let love and fidelity be important to her.”
“Love?” He laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those romantic ninnies who believes in love?”
Of course she wasn’t, but she wasn’t about to admit that to him.
He continued. “Name me one couple of the ton who married for love and remained in that unpleasant state for long.”
She couldn’t. And it made her even more furious that he knew she couldn’t. “I suppose you consider fidelity just as impossible,” she chided, her temper flaring.
He laughed. “Why would anyone eat the fruit from just one tree in an orchard when there are dozens of trees that offer delicacies just as enticing?”
Allison fisted her hands at her side to keep from striking him again. The Marquess of Montfort was proving to be everything she despised in a man.
“But don’t feel too sorry for all the wives in London,” he said. “A woman always gains far more from a marriage than does her husband.”
His voice contained a great amount of confidence which infuriated her even more. She was suddenly incensed. “Oh, pray tell. What would a woman gain from marriage to you?”
“Everything. She would be well cared for, as well as clothed and housed extravagantly. And, she would eventually bear the title, Duchess of Ashbury.”
Allison nearly choked. “What more could any woman desire?” She made sure her voice dripped with sarcasm.
“I somehow doubt you mean that as a compliment.”
“I most certainly do not. Are fancy gowns and a title all you think a woman wants from a marriage?”
“Of course. Every woman I know is desperate to find a husband who will provide for her every need. Every female here tonight is evaluating this year’s crop of eligible men, then ranking them according to their ability to provide for her.” He looked at her with his brows arched. “Which I assume is why you’re here tonight. Have you chosen the man who best fits your requirements?”
The breath caught in Allison’s throat. His accusation made her feel a hypocrite, a fraud. And he infuriated her.
He raised his darks brows inquisitively. “Is that why you have come to such a secluded spot in Lady Cowpepper’s garden? Is it possible you came out here to meet someone and I arrived first? That you were not nearly so virtuous as you’d like everyone to believe?”
Before she had time to think, her arm involuntarily swung through the air and slapped the Marquess of Montfort’s face. Hard.
Then, she spun on her heel and walked back to the ballroom, holding her head high and her back straight. She prayed she would never set eyes on him again. She had without a doubt, just met the most repulsive man on earth —and perhaps broken her wrist as a reminder.
When she reached the house, she stepped across the threshold and into the crush of people gathered in the ballroom. She rubbed her aching wrist. She could not believe what she’d just done. She’d slapped him, the Marquess of Montfort. Not once but twice.
She pressed her hands over her mouth to stop the small cry that wanted to rush out. She’d never struck anyone in her entire life. Never even been tempted.
The first time she could surely justify. He had, after all, accosted her. Dared to touch her, to kiss her.
A whirlpool of something she’d never felt before swirled in the pit of her stomach when she remembered being held against him: the heat of his body, the strength of his chest and arms, his hands roaming over her, and his lips kissing her neck.
She fanned her face. She did not want the memory of his touch to affect her like it did. She refused to let his attentions have any meaning. Refused to admit that she’d been driven purely by the riotous emotions he set rampaging through her. That his touch had any bearing on what she’d done. But it had. And she hated herself for it. He’d left her with no choice but to slap him.
The second time, though. Oh, heavens. She’d let her temper get away from her. She’d become so angry she’d slapped him again.
Allison rubbed her wrist. Her stomach churned and she took several deep breaths to calm herself. Montfort was the most infuriating man she’d ever met.
Why was her brother forcing her to marry? She didn’t need a man’s name. She didn’t want his—
“Lady Allison. There you are.”
She looked up to find the Earl of Archbite standing before her. He’d shown a great deal of interest in her of late. And what was of even more importance, he affected her like the calming trickle of a lazy stream, the opposite of Lord Montfort’s crashing waves against the rocks. Like a comforting presence able to soothe her tattered nerves, compared to Montfort’s threats and turmoil. She relaxed and breathed a steady breath for the first time since Montfort had pulled her against his hard, immovable chest.
“The musicale is about to begin. Would you do me the honor of accompanying me?”
“I’d be delighted.” She took control of her emotions and placed her hand upon Lord Archbite’s outstretched arm.
By the time they entered Lady Cowpepper’s elegant music room, most of the seats were filled, leaving them to sit toward the back. She didn’t mind. For as much as she loved music, she didn’t consider either of Lady Cowpepper’s daughters more than passably talented.
She settled in her chair as Lady Francine, the oldest, began her first selection, a lovely Italian aria. When the song ended, Lord Archbite leaned closer to say something. Allison turned her head—and her breath caught.
The marquess stood with his shoulder propped casually against the door frame, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his gaze locked with hers.
His inordinate height separated him from the rest of the guests, and a whirlpool of raging emotions swirled out of control deep inside her. She chastised herself when she realized she couldn’t pull her gaze from him.
A slow smile spread across his face and he graciously lowered his head in acknowledgment. Such a subtle greeting. So unnerving. So confident. As if he relished the effect he knew he had on all women.
In a show of rebuke, she lifted her chin and turned her head. She wanted to wipe the smile from his face, and for a tiny fraction of a second, she was glad she’d slapped him. But she was also afraid. Never before had any man affected her as strongly as he had.
She averted her gaze, struggling for as long as possible to keep from looking back to the spot where he stood, forcing herself to concentrate on the musical performance. But a power she couldn’t control pulled her gaze to where he stood. Fortunately, this time he wasn’t watching her. His gaze was fixed on someone sitting on the other side of the room.
Without seeming obvious, she turned her head enough to see who’d captured Lord Montfort’s interest. For some reason, the recognition galled her. He was focused intently on the recently widowed Lady Serena Paxton.
The striking redhead wore an emerald green gown with an indecently revealing décolletage. But more telling was the look on her face. It was obvious that she was extremely pleased with Lord Montfort’s attentions.
When the overly polite applause for Lady Francine’s vocal selection dwindled, Lady Darlene took her place at the piano to play one of Mozart’s earlier works. Allison took advantage of the momentary lull to look again to where Montfort stood. With his eyes locked on Lady Paxton’s, he briefly nodded his head, then without notice, left by the nearest side entrance.
Allison turned her gaze back to Lady Paxton. A few moments later, the woman left the room by an exit on the other side.
Allison’s cheeks flamed. One would have to be an imbecile not to know what the two intended. Or that Lady Paxton was the woman Montfort had come to that secluded spot in the garden to meet. The woman for whom he’d mistaken her.
Allison’s opinion of him plummeted further, if that were possible. He was a womanizer and rake of the worst kind. She pitied the woman he eventually took as his wife. He would never change. Men with those leanings never did. His poor wife would never be able to walk through Society with her head high. Everyone would know of her husband’s infidelities.
Lady Darlene’s piano selection ended and Allison turned her attention back to Lord Archbite. If she had to marry—and she did if she wanted to keep her inheritance —he was worth her consideration.
He was handsome enough, yet not too handsome to attract every woman in Society. And if she were any judge, the puppy-dog look of adoration she detected in his gaze said he was more than mildly enamored of her.
With a heavy sigh, she realized she finally had at least one name for her list of possible marriage candidates.
The thought was not comforting in the least.
Chapter 2
It had been two weeks since Joshua had last seen his father. Two weeks since their last confrontation. Joshua was foolish enough to think he’d have at least a month’s respite before the next battle, but he’d run into his father at White’s earlier in the day.
His father had never been able to tolerate him. Today was no different. In fact, today’s battle had been more hostile than ever. His father’s words filled with more bitterness and loathing. And not for the first time, Joshua realized that the growing hatred that consumed his father was unhealthy.
Joshua stood at the back of the Earl of Ploddingdale’s ballroom and slowly nursed his second drink. He needed help forgetting the niggling fear that warned him the end result of his father’s anger would be catastrophic.
The recurring focus of his tirade had again been that the wrong son would some day carry the Ashbury title. He never missed an opportunity to lay more blame at Joshua’s feet for his brother Philip’s death.
Joshua threw a swallow of liquor to the back of his throat. Bloody hell! Didn’t he know Joshua would give anything to relive that day and be the one who’d died instead of Phillip?
Joshua replayed the confrontation from this afternoon. He wanted to reject the idea that his father had lost his grip on stability, but it was almost as if his desire to punish Joshua for Phillip’s death consumed him to the point that he no longer had a firm hold on sanity.
Joshua refused to contemplate anything so drastic. The ramifications were too terrifying. Instead, he pushed all thought of his father to the back of his mind and concentrated again on the crush of guests crowding into the Earl of Ploddingdale’s townhouse. Perhaps she would be here again tonight. Lady Allison Townsend.
He’d discovered her name after their unforgettable meeting in Lady Cowpepper’s garden. For some reason he didn’t understand, he couldn’t erase her from his mind. What a spitfire the lady was.
Joshua cradled his glass of brandy while his gaze swept the room. He looked for her at every function he attended. He refused to consider why he was so fascinated with her. Perhaps the attraction was nothing more than curiosity over a woman brave enough, or foolish enough to slap him—twice.
He lifted the glass to take another drink, then stopped with his arm midway to his mouth. There she was. Ready to descend the stairs and make her introductions to their host and hostess.
A smile crossed his lips. She looked even lovelier this evening than she had the last time he’d seen her. The gown she wore tonight reminded him of the way she’d looked the night he’d mistaken her for Lady Paxton. The style showed off her full bodice and narrow waist to perfection.
He remembered how perfectly she’d fit in his arms and how heavily her breast had rested in the palm of his hand.
Her neck was bare again except for the exquisite necklace of glowing emeralds that matched her dark green gown. The lower half of his body tightened uncomfortably when he recalled his lips nuzzling her soft, delicate flesh. She was a challenge, far more complex than any other female he knew. But she was the last woman he would allow to trap him.
She was far too intelligent to manipulate, far too independent to control, and her tongue was far too sharp for his taste. It was obvious her expectations were high, and the man who married her would never be able to get by with even the smallest indiscretion. And because she was in attendance again tonight, rumors that she was serious in her attempt to find a husband were undoubtedly true.
The thought chilled his blood and sent a warning racing through him. Yet, for some reason he could not explain, she remained an enigma—an enigma with mysterious powers that drew him to her.
At every ball and social event held in the last two weeks, he’d approached her at least once a night to ask her to dance. He enjoyed seeing her shocked expression turn to anger. Just as he enjoyed every excuse she made as to why she couldn’t oblige him: her dance card was filled; she was tired and preferred to sit this dance out; she’d injured her ankle on the last dance; she needed to speak with her brother; or the excuse she most commonly used, she’d promised this dance to Lord Archbite, who followed her around like a love-smitten puppy.
It was more than a game to Joshua now. Taunting her was his answer to ease the boredom that suffocated him each evening. He loved to see her cheeks flush when he approached her, but even more, he reveled in the fire that flashed from her eyes when she was forced to acknowledge him.
Hell, she was a fiery thing. But at least she hadn’t slapped him again.
“On whom are you concentrating? Surely it can’t be the unapproachable Lady Allison again?”
Joshua turned to find his closest friend, Lionel Fortright, Earl of Chardwell, standing next to him. The two had formed a bond in their youth that had deepened over the years. Joshua welcomed Chardwell’s presence with his usual sense of relief, and smiled.
“She doesn’t appear to be happy tonight. Can you tell?”
“Take care, my friend,” Chardwell said, taking a glass from a passing footman’s tray. “The rumor circulating is that she must marry before her twenty-fifth birthday or lose a dowry that is the envy of every female in London.”
“Oh, I have no intention of being caught in that trap. But why do you think she hasn’t married before now?” Joshua asked. “Has she made no attempt to find a husband until this Season?”
“Don’t you remember? She was betrothed several years ago—to Viscount Bradley. The Earl of Puttingsworth killed him in a jealous rage after finding him in bed with his wife.”
“Ah, yes. How could I have forgotten that scandal? It was talked about for most of that Season. No wonder...”
“No wonder what?”
“Oh, nothing.” Joshua concentrated on Lady Allison and smiled. “Look, Chardwell. The pressures of selecting a suitable husband must be weighing on her.”
“How can you know that?”
“Look at the frown on her pretty forehead and the way her lips press together.” Joshua slowly sipped from his glass. “And see how she’s fisting her hands at her side?”
Chardwell shook his head on a laugh. “I think you’ve spent too much time studying the lady if you notice such small details, Montfort.”
“She’s an interesting woman to study.” He kept his gaze on her. He knew eventually she’d notice him. She always did. Their gazes somehow seemed drawn to each other. Then her cheeks would flush a vibrant, rosy hue and he would see another flash of fire in her eyes. Every nerve in his body tingled in anticipation.
“Are you going to ask her to dance again tonight?”
“Of course. The first waltz.”
“Aren’t you tired of being rejected?”
“I’ve become immune. Besides, I believe she’s weakening to my charms.”
“Weakening?” Chardwell laughed so loudly the couples standing close turned to stare.
Joshua gave his friend a sideways glance that contained more than a bit of humor.
“If anything,” Chardwell continued, his voice much softer, “she’s more resolved than ever to avoid you. She was barely polite when she refused you at the Codmore ball on Wednesday.”
“I think she did not feel well.” Joshua watched her make her way down the stairs behind her brother and his wife, the Earl and Countess of Hartley. “I wasn’t the only one she refused.”
“I noticed she didn’t refuse Archbite his two dances.”
Joshua didn’t respond, but watched as she greeted their host and hostess, then stepped into the crush of people. “I seem to have lost her, Chardwell. Do you see her?”
“You’d best be careful, Montfort. She’s become quite an obsession.”
He looked at his friend in shock. “It’s a game. I’ve never met a woman who took such an instant dislike to me. I’m used to unabashed adoration when I turn on my charm, not open hostility.”
“I can imagine what a blow she is to your ego.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I simply enjoy sparring with her. She’s a challenge. Nothing more.”
“I hope I won’t have an opportunity to remind you of that on your wedding day.”
“Bloody hell, man. You’ll never see me take a trip down the aisle. Can you imagine the pleasure half of London would get from seeing me leg shackled? I would never give them such satisfaction.”
“People who play with fire have been known to get burned. And rumor has it she’s attending the nightly round of parties because her twenty-fifth birthday is approaching. If she intends to keep her inheritance, she will have to marry before that date.”
“How interesting.” He cast a glance over the crowd and found the lovely Lady Allison as she reached a gathering of ladies against the opposite side of the ballroom.
“Don’t worry. I have no intention of falling into any woman’s trap. Fortunately, she has already decided I won’t do.”
He took note of her fiery copper hair and deep emerald gown and his breath caught. He couldn’t tear his gaze from her. Dear Lord, what a vision.
“If you’ll excuse me, Chardwell,” he said, handing his empty glass to a passing footman, “I think it is almost time for the orchestra to play a waltz.”
He ignored Chardwell’s hearty laugh and walked toward her. He kept his head high and wore a confident smile on his face. Her presence made having to be here almost enjoyable. He would miss her when their little game was over.
+++
The dull throbbing in Allison’s head grew more intense with each passing minute. She knew exactly when it had started. The minute her brother David had summoned her to his study again this afternoon to discuss her progress in choosing a husband.
Less than four weeks remained until her twenty-fifth birthday.
She’d tried again to convince him to allow her to remain single. She’d tried to reason with him but he wouldn’t listen to anything she said. She’d even promised she would remain in the country and not be a bother to anyone. But he’d refused to consider her suggestion. The more she argued that she didn’t want to marry, the more adamant he became. And the angrier. He even repeated his threat to choose a husband for her if she didn’t choose one herself in the next two weeks.
She fisted her hands. What was so terrible about a woman wanting to live her life without taking a husband? Surely she wasn’t the only woman in all of London who didn’t want to marry.
She thought of the courage it took for her sisters to walk proudly at their husbands’ sides, pretending it didn’t matter that their husbands did not love them enough to be faithful. She could never be so brave.
Couldn’t David understand that she could never face Society if it was common knowledge that her husband kept a mistress? Couldn’t he understand her pride would never survive?
No, he couldn’t. He’d been unsympathetic through every argument, which was why her attempts to plead a headache and stay home tonight met with his flat refusal. Now she’d have to put up with the noise, the laughter, the gossip...and the Marquess of Montfort’s insistent demand to dance a waltz again tonight.
Her head pounded anew and she looked longingly at the open double doors that led onto the patio. She’d give anything to be able to hide in the dark until this evening was over. But that was impossible.
“Lady Allison.”
She spun around. The Earl of Archbite stood beside her.
“I was hoping you would be here tonight.”
She felt her cheeks warm. And her heart plummet. She hadn’t seen him approach. Didn’t want his attention— not tonight.
“Lord Archbite.” She pasted a friendly smile on her face though she didn’t feel at all like smiling. “How nice to see you.”
“There’s quite a crush tonight, isn’t there?”
“Yes. Lady Ploddingdale’s creativity is seldom surpassed.” Allison took note of the footmen dressed in puce and lime green, and shuddered.
“Oh, yes,” Archbite continued. “Tonight’s affair is overflowing with color. Puts one in quite the festive mood, doesn’t it?”
Allison forced a smile. Inside, she cringed. Could Lord Archbite be serious? She concluded that he was. Ugh! “Yes,” she answered, because an answer seemed necessary. “It’s very...festive.”
She scanned the growing crowd as she listened to the music the orchestra played from the other side of the room. They were in the middle of a quadrille, and after the quadrille, they generally played a waltz. Her pulse raced and her blood pounded harder in her head. Perhaps tonight he would not bother her. Perhaps she’d set him down hard enough the last time that she’d convinced him she didn’t intend to dance with him—ever.
The music ended and the dancers moved to find partners for the next set. She lifted her gaze to look around the room and her heart stuttered in her chest. He was coming toward her, his broad shoulders filling his handsomely tailored jacket to perfection, his expertly tied cravat glowing a brilliant white against his bronzed skin. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. Then his gaze locked with hers and his lips parted to a wide-open smile.
From halfway across the room he graced her with a look so breathtaking it stole the air from her body. How dare he bother her again tonight. What more did she have to do to convince him she didn’t want him anywhere near her?
Her temper simmered at a slow boil as she prepared to give him the set-down he deserved.
“…haven’t forgotten. Have you?” Percy finished, pulling her back from her nightmare.
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“I wanted to remind you of Mother’s musicale tomorrow night.”
She tried to take a deep breath and find a reply to Percy’s question but found it impossible. The Marquess of Montfort stood directly behind Percy.
He towered over poor Percy by almost a head, and his shoulders outstretched Percy’s by nearly half a foot on either side. Percy looked more effeminate tonight than usual. Montfort more threatening.
So far, Percy hadn’t noticed Montfort standing behind him. She prayed he wouldn’t turn around. She feared Montfort might startle him.
“Your mother what?”
“Her musical. I want to make sure you plan to attend.”
She forced a smile. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Wonderful. Do you need transportation? I could send a carriage for you?”
Montfort rudely shook his head as if to prompt her refusal.
“Ah, no.” She directed an angry glare in Montfort’s direction. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. My brother and his wife also plan to attend. I’ll come with them.”
Montfort gave her a nod, as if her answer met with his approval.
“I also wondered,” Percy said hesitantly, “if you would be available for callers tomorrow afternoon?”
Montfort lifted his brows and crossed his arms over his chest, as if he, too, were interested in her answer.
“If you are receiving, I would like to call on you.”
Montfort’s brows furrowed into a deep frown and he shook his head as if he expected her to heed his advice and refuse Lord Archbite’s request to visit.
“I have no plans to go out,” she answered. Regrettably, her words came out clipped and angry, and Percy looked at her in confusion. He hesitated with uncertainty before he continued.
“Perhaps then we could take a drive through the park?”
Montfort shook his head harder and Allison gritted her teeth in frustration.
“No! Yes! I would be delighted!”
Percy blinked twice when she growled out her answer and looked at her as if she’d taken leave of her senses. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer not to,” he stammered. “Or it rains.”
The tone of his voice was filled with trepidation. She knew her flare of temper confused and intimidated him.
“No, I’d love to.” Her head pounded, her cheeks burned, her temper neared the boiling point. And the orchestra struck a waltz.
The Marquess of Montfort picked that moment to step out from behind Percy. “Lady Allison.” He bowed graciously before her. “I believe this is my waltz.”
“No!”
Several people standing nearby turned to look at her. Even Percy stared at her in wide-eyed astonishment. Only Montfort smiled.
“Please,” he said, placing his hand over his heart. “I beg of you. Don’t turn me away brokenhearted again.”
In an uncharacteristic show of bravery, Percy lifted his shoulders and faced the dragon in her defense. “The lady made it quite clear that she doesn’t want to dance with you.”
Montfort’s narrowed gaze drilled Percy and a cold chill washed over her.
Neither man moved a muscle.
The expression on Montfort’s face darkened and she knew only raw determination kept Percy from shrinking away.
She held her breath. They looked like David and Goliath facing each other. Only Allison’s David didn’t have any special advantage on his side. Montfort didn’t need any.
“I believe I was speaking to Lady Allison,” Montfort responded, his tone soft and deadly. Allison heard the threat in his voice. Felt the danger.
Percy obviously didn’t. He puffed his narrow shoulders. “And I believe I heard the lady say she did not want to dance with you.”
A muscle at the side of Montfort’s jaw twitched. This had gone far enough. Of course, she was not concerned for Montfort, but for Percy. She knew she had to stop the two adversaries before they caused a scene. Before Percy got hurt.
“I have changed my mind, Lord Archbite.” She placed her hand on Percy’s arm. “I did promise Lord Montfort this dance.” She turned to Montfort. “I apologize, my lord. I forgot.”
“Are you sure?” Percy asked. The look on his face told her he would fight to the death for her.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
With an angry scowl, Percy stepped back when Montfort extended his arm.
She hesitated, then placed her hand on Montfort’s sleeve. She could feel Percy’s glare as they made their way onto the dance floor.
“Why are you doing this?” she said under her breath when he pulled her toward him to begin their dance.
She couldn’t remember ever being so angry. She had always been able to brush suitors off. Why was Montfort so different? He wasn’t serious about courting her. He’d made that fact perfectly clear the first time they’d met.
“Doing what?” He stepped in perfect time to the lilting waltz, effortlessly gliding across the floor with her in his arms. He was an expert dancer. But she knew he would be. She pursed her lips in an angry pout.
“Don’t play the fool, my lord. You know exactly what I mean. Pursuing me when I have made it more than clear that I want nothing whatsoever to do with you. Bothering me when I have repeatedly indicated I don’t want you anywhere near.”
“Is that what your refusals meant?” The look of innocence on his face was almost laughable.
“You know it is.”
He executed another turn and held her even closer. She pulled away. “It’s not proper to hold me so close. People will talk.”
“People are already talking. Dancing with me is cause for people to talk.” He arched an eyebrow, which gave him a dark, rakish look. “I have a reputation, you know.”
She rolled her eyes heavenward. “Everyone knows your reputation. You’ve done nothing by your words or actions to quell the wild rumors and speculation that surround you.”
“Is that admiration I hear in your voice?”
Allison nearly stumbled over her feet. “It most certainly is not. I find your actions reprehensible. And you have yet to answer my question. Why are you doing this?”
“If you must know, I have decided to save you.” He pulled her closer. His arms held her securely as they moved across the dance floor and she felt…safe.
Her skin tingled where he touched her. The room seemed much warmer than before. “Save me from what?” She kept her voice low enough not to draw attention.
“From Lord Archbite, of course.”
She came to a halt and tried to pull out of his arms. The marquess countered her actions by clamping his hand around her waist and leading her to the side of the dance floor. The minute they stepped through the open double doors and onto the flagstone terrace, she spun around to face him. “From Lord Archbite? How dare you!”
He escorted her to the secluded side of the patio where they could not be overheard. “It is quite obvious, Lady Allison, that you have come back into Society to find a husband.”
She felt her cheeks blaze. She had a difficult time keeping her pointed gaze focused on him.
“There’s no need to deny it. There’s nothing unusual about a woman desperate to find a husband. You are, after all, not that young any more.” He held up his hand when she started to say something. “We’ve already covered the advantages of love and marriage and know each other’s viewpoints. I wish you every success in your endeavor. I have therefore decided to assist you.”
“You pompous idiot.” She clenched her teeth and struggled to hold her temper. “You arrogant—”
Montfort held up his hand to stop her words. “You almost have Archbite where you want him. Ready to take the fall. It is obvious to even the most disinterested observer that he is prepared to ask for your hand.”
Allison knew what he said was true, but hearing the words out loud caused a sickening weight to churn in the pit of her stomach. “Lord Achbite’s intentions are none of your concern.”
“But they are. Surely you know the two of you are not the least suited?”
Allison’s hands fisted at her side so tightly they ached. “Of all the—“
“Oh, really, Allie.” He leaned casually against a corner pillar anchoring the balustrade and crossed his arms over his chest. For several uncomfortable seconds he stared at her with a serious look on his face.
He appeared even more the rake than before and her heart pounded harder in her breast. If she wasn’t careful her temper would get the better of her. No one could infuriate her like he could.
“You’re not a fool, my lady. Surely you’ve considered the drawbacks to marrying Archbite?”
“There are no drawbacks. Lord Archbite is sincere in his suit. He is wealthy beyond measure and would not marry me only for my dowry. And most of all, he doesn’t have the reputation of a scoundrel. He’s not famous for his mistresses, or for trying to seduce every female he meets.”
“Are you referring to me?”
The amused glint in his eyes only made her angrier. “If the boot fits…”
He gave her a hearty laugh. “And how do you intend to compete with his mother.”
“His mother? I’m not marrying his mother.”
“But you are. The strings that connect the two are inseparable. Archbite has not made a move since he was out of nappies without first consulting dear Mama. He is not strong enough to begin now. Which leads us to another problem.”
He lowered himself to the balustrade railing and sat. This put him at eye level with her, on an even field. Her courage surged with renewed vigor. “And that would be?” She anchored her fists on her hips.
“He is not strong enough to be your match. You would devour him within a week.”
Allison could not hide her shock. “I do not need a husband who is strong.”
“But you do. Or you will run over him at every turn and be unhappy for the rest of your life.”
She stood speechless, her heart not sure how fast or slow to beat. “You must think very little of me,” she said when she could again speak.
“On the contrary. I think quite highly of you. I recognize your strengths and know you wouldn’t be content with a weak husband for even a day, let alone your entire life.”
“I see you consider yourself an expert on the qualities that attract a man and a woman. How is it, sir, that you are not married? Can you recognize these characteristics in everyone but yourself?”
“I am not the one considering marriage. You are.”
“Yes. But since I am not for one second considering marriage to you, I would appreciate it if you kept your opinions to yourself.”
He pushed himself from the railing and towered over her, his legs anchored wide. “Very well, but first let me impart another piece of information before I leave you to your own demise. Lord Archbite is not all he seems.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Only that it would be to your advantage to make some inquiries before you connect yourself too deeply with him.”
“Why are you doing this? Do you dislike him that much? Or is it me?”
“I do not dislike him at all.” He shrugged, as if the warning he’d issued was inconsequential. As if omitting her last question would not be noticed. Her blood ran cold. Her temper erupted.
“You are disgusting.”
A smile crossed his face. “I believe you’ve already mentioned that.”
“Thank you for your concern. Now please leave me alone.”
“You’re angry.”
“Angry?” she said, as if she could not believe that surprised him. “I have been bullied, insulted, and by association to you, been made the object of gossip. And you called me a fool.”
“I didn’t call you a fool. I said marrying Archbite would indeed be foolish.”
Montfort placed a finger beneath her chin and lifted upward until her gaze locked with his. “He cannot release one portion of the passion you have hidden inside you. And you do not even know it is there.”
“I don’t have the faintest idea what you mean.”
“I know. And you should.”
Before she could react, he grasped her shoulders and pulled her close. She knew he intended to kiss her. Just as she knew she couldn’t allow it. She would never be the same if she did.
She brought her hands up to push him away but it was no use. He was too strong. Too powerful. Too desirable.
His arms wrapped around her and his mouth pressed against hers.
The kiss was soft, gentle. Almost chaste. And she held herself still, locking every muscle, using every ounce of fortitude she possessed to close her mind to the heat swirling through her body.
“Don’t fight me,” he whispered. His lips brushed feathery kisses over her cheek and down the side of her face. “You need to know what you have to offer some very fortunate man.”
Before she could make another attempt to escape his grasp, his mouth pressed more firmly against hers. His lips covered hers with a possessiveness that was inescapable. With amazing skill he moved over her, tasting her, drinking from her, and demanding something.
She had no idea what it was.
She swore she would not let his kisses affect her. Just as she swore she would not kiss him back. But when his mouth opened atop hers, she lost her battle.
Fiery passion swirled in the pit of her stomach when his tongue probed the crease of her lips, churning her insides with an uncontrollable yearning. Her heart pounded in her breast. Blood thundered in her head. And she clung to him as if he alone could keep her from falling, when it was his fault she could not stand.
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t take in enough air to survive. So she opened her mouth and let him breathe with her, for her. And he deepened his kiss.
She moaned, the sound a desperate plea for more.
His tongue entered, searched, found, conquered.
She struggled one last time, then wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. His lips moved with an expertise that destroyed every effort to stop him. She held him closer, then yielded to his kisses and his touch.
His kisses continued for an eternity, each one more consuming than the last. When he finally lifted his mouth from hers, she sank against him like the weak, wanton woman he’d made her.
She couldn’t move, didn’t have the strength to stand on her own. She pressed her cheek against his chest and listened to his heart thunder inside his breast. It beat as violently as her own.
Eventually, deep inside a never-opened recess of her mind, a door opened and she realized the mistake she’d made.
The kiss they’d shared had not been simple and chaste as every other kiss she’d experienced before. But earthy and passionate. He’d opened a Pandora’s Box of desires she didn’t want to know were locked inside her. He’d changed everything she’d convinced herself she wanted.
If she must marry, as her brother insisted she do, then marriage to Lord Archbite was the only marriage she would consider. Because he demanded nothing. She felt nothing for him. Her emotions were safe with him. There was no risk to her heart.
With one passionate kiss, the Marquess of Montfort had ruined everything. He’d destroyed every illusion she’d constructed in her attempt to live a safe, emotionless life.
Damn him.
Damn him!
He cupped her cheeks in his hands and lifted her face. “See, my lady. You deserve more.”
She twisted out of his arms and stepped away from him, her legs still unsteady beneath her. “How dare you. How dare you!”
Allison wanted to strike him. Her hands fisted tighter and moved involuntarily at her side.
He glanced down at her clenched fists. “I wouldn’t if I were you. I rarely let a woman strike me once. I allowed it the other night because I deserved it. I will not tolerate it again.”
Allison clamped her hands against her side, wishing for once she were a man and could answer his threat. He deserved her anger more tonight than before. He had no idea what he’d done.
She spun away from him and ran back into the house, not caring what anyone thought when they saw her fleeing for her life.
Chapter 3
The Earl of Archbite called to escort her on a carriage ride that next afternoon as promised. The day was brilliantly clear without the hint of a rain cloud in the sky. A slight breeze, warm from the bright sunshine, washed over them as they made their way through Hyde Park. All in all, it was a picture perfect day.
But Allison hardly noticed. Instead, she spent the entire time watching over her shoulder, waiting for the Marquess of Montfort to ride up behind them and spoil it.
“Is something wrong?” The earl looked behind him to where she focused her gaze.
Allison jerked ahead, swearing she would not look back again. Swearing she would give Montfort the cut if he was foolish enough to bother them. “No. Nothing is wrong.”
“It’s just that you keep looking behind you as if you’re expecting someone. Are you expecting someone?”
“Of course not. It’s just such a wonderful day that I’m trying to absorb it all.”
He gave her a warm smile and leaned back in the seat, seeming very relaxed and content. Allison felt a sense of familiarity being with him too. The familiarity she felt when she was with…her brother.
That she’d just compared him to David disappointed her. She shoved the thought out of her mind as if it had never been born.
Chastising herself for her foolishness, she sat back against the leather cushion. She was determined to enjoy the rest of the ride. Determined not to remember the reason she’d gotten very little sleep last night. Or the turmoil that raged through her body since Montfort had so thoroughly kissed her. She would not allow herself to think of him.
“It really is a beautiful day.” She moved her parasol further back on her shoulder so the sunshine could hit her face.
“Yes. But not nearly as beautiful as you.”
The sincerity of his compliment took her by surprise and she gave him a sideways glance. The adoring look on his face bespoke the depth of his feelings. She lowered her gaze to her lap.
“Don’t be embarrassed.” He placed his gloved hand atop hers. “You are beautiful. Even more so with a blush to your cheeks. I cannot believe you are not already married.”
“I never wanted to marry. Not after—“
“Don’t, my lady.” He lifted a finger to stop her. “What happened to Lord Bradley did not reflect on you in the least. I don’t want you to ever think of his betrayal again.”
Allison tried to put a smile on her face, but knew she came up short. Percy only patted her hand in a reassuring manner and focused on the path ahead. Allison took the opportunity to study him.
Lord Archbite was an only child. His father had been well up in years when he was born, then had died unexpectedly a few years later. He’d left Percy his wealth, his title, and a doting Mother who lived only for her son. This undoubtedly explained the close connection between the two.
Some saw his devotion to his mother as a weakness, but Allison did not. It was a quality she wasn’t sure she understood, but it somehow comforted her. Surely that devotion, that faithfulness, would transfer to his wife after he married.
She should consider herself lucky he was interested in her. He was exactly the kind of man she wanted. Someone wealthy enough that her dowry was of no interest. Someone who did not have a reputation as a rake and scoundrel with a string of mistresses scattered throughout London. Someone who would honor his vows and be faithful to her.
Someone as different from Montfort as any man could be.
“I’m glad you have come back into Society. Glad you accepted my invitation this afternoon. It gives me hope.”
“Hope?”
His gaze locked with hers. “Until now, a permanent arrangement of any kind did not interest me. You have changed my mind.”
Allison’s cheeks warmed and she knew it had nothing to do with the midday sun shining on her face.
Her heart beat faster and her breathing turned rapid and shallow. She knew what was coming next, what words he intended to say.
An overwhelming sense of panic washed over her. She suddenly realized she didn’t want to hear what he was going to tell her.
He turned to face her, his heartfelt sincerity plain to see. “I cannot let another day pass before I tell you my feelings. You have captured my heart and I am convinced the sun rises and sets in you. Next to my mother, you are truly the most virtuous woman I know.”
He cradled her free hand and pressed it to his chest.
A stronger tremor of panic raced through her. Why didn’t his words thrill her? Why didn’t her heart soar at his proclamation? Instead, she felt trapped. Uncomfortable. As if committing to anything right now would be a mistake.
“I’ve admired you forever. You are perfection itself, above reproach. Mother says a match between our two families would be advantageous to us both.”
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t keep her heart from racing out of control. “Lord Archbite.” She pulled her hand away from him. Her voice sounded barely more than a whisper that quivered with a timidity totally alien to her nature. What was wrong with her? “I am extremely flattered by your compliments, exaggerated though they may be. It would be a lie to pretend I am oblivious to your intentions. I am not. I appreciate your feelings. But…” She hesitated until she could find a way to say what she needed to say. “Please. I need time before you declare yourself.”
The wounded look in Percy’s eyes made her feel terrible.
“Of course. How rude of me to be so forward. This is hardly the time or the place for such a delicate discussion. It was thoughtless of me not to realize you might not return my feelings with the same intensity.”
“No. It’s not that—“
He held up his hand to stop her protest. “Is there someone else, then?”
“No. Oh, no.”
His features relaxed. “Perhaps you could give me an idea of how much time you require?”
“The end of the month,” she said, trying to keep her voice level. “Just until the end of the month.”
“Of course.” His face opened to a wide grin. “That is only two weeks. Be assured that my feelings will not change in that short a time. Although it will seem like a lifetime to me, I can understand your need to consider such a monumental decision.”
“Thank you.” She forced her lips to relax enough to smile at him.
She’d avoided crossing an invisible line that would irrevocably connect her to Percy. The emotions that surged through her were indescribable. Relief. Reprieve.
Her breath caught. What was she doing? This was what she wanted, what she’d been after. She only had two more weeks to find a husband, so why had she stopped him from asking for her hand?
Because you don’t love him, a loud voice screamed in her head.
But I don’t believe in love, another voice countered. And she didn’t. She was well acquainted with greed and lust. She’d seen it in her parents’ marriage, and knew it was the basis for her three sisters’ marriages. But she’d never seen a married couple who loved each other. Even David’s affiliation with his wife remained a mystery. She wasn’t sure if their relationship was based on love, or simply a fondness necessitated by the need to provide the next generation of Hartley heirs.
Perhaps there was such a thing as love. Perhaps in time she could learn to love the Earl of Archbite. But for now, she still had two weeks of freedom. Two weeks that she did not have to think about what her future held for her.
Two weeks to convince herself that her future was not as dismal as it seemed.
+++
The Earl of Archbite’s townhouse was already a buzz of activity when Allison and her brother, David, and his wife, Lynette, arrived for the musicale. Percy’s mother, the Countess of Archbite, met each of her guests with the same regal aplomb as befitted a queen. Percy stood next to her.
The guest list was never overly large for any function Lady Archbite hosted. Invitations were sent only to a select few. Which might be part of the reason the invitations were so coveted by all of Society.
Tonight was no different. Only the most elite of Society were here.
“Lord and Lady Hartley,” Lady Archbite said, greeting David and Lynette. “I’m so honored you could attend.”
“Thank you, Lady Archbite,” David said. “It was kind of you to extend the invitation.”
Allison saw a slight smile cross David’s face. She wondered what her brother would say if he knew how close Lord Archbite had come to stating his intentions this afternoon. He undoubtedly would be elated.
“Lord Hartley. Lady Hartley,” Percy greeted, nodding politely to David and bowing over Lynette’s hand.
The look on David’s face remained friendly when he greeted Percy.
A sudden thought raced through her mind. She couldn’t imagine the two of them as brothers-in-law. Once she married him—if she married him, Percy would be an odd mix in her otherwise handsome family. Allison pushed such a ridiculous thought from her mind.
“And Lady Allison,” the countess said, forcing Allison’s attention back to their hostess.
She curtsied. “Good evening, Lady Archbite. I am so looking forward to this evening. I hear you have commissioned the talented Mademoiselle Miranda Bochaut to sing selected arias from her favorite operas.”
“Do you enjoy the opera?” the countess asked.
“Yes. David tells me I’m hopelessly addicted.”
The countess smiled. “No one who enjoys the opera is ever hopeless. Perhaps there is something in particular you’d like to hear tonight. I could see if Mademoiselle Bochaut has it in her repertoire.”
“Oh, no.” Allison was embarrassed to be given such an honor. Her first thought was that the countess knew of her conversation with Percy this afternoon and was making every effort to smooth the way between them.
“I insist,” the countess added.
David’s expression changed. His eyes brightened with a glimmer of hopefulness, followed by a look she often saw when he was pleased. A flash of panic rose inside her.
Of course David would approve. Why shouldn’t he?
“I am honored, Lady Archbite. Perhaps something from Saint-Saen’s Samson and Delilah. It is new, and causing quit the stir. For the rest, I acquiesce to Mademoiselle Bochaut’s discretion.”