How to Marry a Marquess (Wedded by Scandal) Page 12

  She sauntered through the ballroom and for a moment disappeared behind a Grecian column. He moved with the crowd, discreetly keeping her in his line of sight. Mockery glinted in the duke’s eyes as he took note of Richard’s action, but he too fell into step, and they trailed her. She stood beside a potted plant, a glass of champagne clutched in her grasp, speaking animatedly with her friend Adel. “She is with your duchess.”

  “So I see,” Wolverton said. “You do know the manner in which you stare at Lady Evelyn is enough to create a scandal?”

  Richard grunted noncommittally, and the duke smiled.

  “How are the twins?” he asked, hoping to shift the topic of discourse.

  Edmond arched a brow, his lips twitching. “They are healthy, rambunctious, and growing at an alarming rate,” he said, pride and pleasure rich in his tone. “And your Emily, how is she faring?”

  The fierce love Richard felt for his daughter roared inside of him. “Good. Her nightmares lessen each day,” he said gruffly.

  “I’m glad. My girls miss her at Rosette Park. You should bring her to visit again soon.”

  A young lord strolled over to Evie and held out his arms. She offered him a graceful curtsy and was swept away onto the dance floor. Richard ignored the slight burn of jealousy. He squashed it, naming it as a useless emotion.

  “You even smile when she does.”

  “You’re becoming a meddling old man.”

  Wolverton scoffed. “And you are being asinine. It is clear to me and half of the ton you desire her. Why not make an offer to her father?”

  “She has qualities which may be trusted, and others which make me wary.”

  “The hell you say!”

  Richard studied her discreetly, peering with honest reflection into his heart. She glowed, a beautiful butterfly in her element. Not only did he feel protective, but possessiveness also curled through him. He had never felt such riotous emotions over a woman before, not even the deceptive Aurelia. “Evie belongs here, amongst the glamor, the artifice, the disgusting opulence…”

  “She belongs at your side,” Wolverton countered. “You would be an imbecile if you allowed another man to snatch her away. There is an undeniable connection between the both of you.”

  At my side?

  After Aurelia, he’d thought deep emotional connections were beyond his capability, then he’d found his daughter. The first time she had smiled at him, sunshine had burst out in his chest. The first time she called him papa, he felt peace, and he had known not seeing his father, his mother, and even his dear sister could be endured. Estranged from his family, he only watched them from afar through the years, and had upon occasion received letters and very discreet visits from his sister, to which he had always responded favorably, but their parents forbade her from acknowledging him in public.

  Anything could be endured for the sake of his daughter, except contemplating a life without Evie. And that chilled his soul. When had she become so important to him?

  He chuckled, a rough humorless sound that had Edmond’s brows climbing. Richard was beyond grateful Evie did not realize the power she wielded over him. “Do you know Evie has never visited my daughter?”

  The duke stiffened. “At the twins’ christening she was cordial, and Emily seemed taken with her.”

  A rough sound slipped from Richard. “Evie asks of Emily when we speak, but it is superficial at best. Do you know why? Because the world she adores deems it so. My bastard daughter is never to be accepted, and Evie silently condemns her and agrees with our society in fear of tarnishing her reputation. I cannot ignore that it is her coveted position in society that motivates Evie to hold back a part of herself. She is not built for the life I lead. If we were to ever marry, her charmed existence would crumble and never reform. Her friends would melt away, the admiration that she has garnered would turn to ignominy. Bitterness and regret would then be the flavor of our union. Should I dismiss this warning in my gut because Evie’s exquisite smile brings warmth to my soul? Because one look upon her has my cock as hard as iron? Because I’ve not been able to bed a woman in over a year, because of the hunger I feel for her? If I allowed such thoughts to sway me, followed my selfish desires, am I not once again failing my daughter? Do you believe I would expose her to such pain after all the atrocities she has endured? Should I expose Emily’s heart, my heart, to loving a woman who has the power to shred us to nothing?” Ah, Christ, he’d not intended to divulge such concerns to Wolverton.

  Understanding gleamed in his friend’s eyes. “Then by God, man, avert your gaze whenever Lady Evelyn is in the room, for your admiration is on display for all of society to see and speculate upon. I am forever shocked she is not yet ruined from the way in which you stare…”

  Richard tugged on his cravat, and with a soft curse, shifted his attention from hers. With clipped strides, he walked away and headed to the terraced balcony.

  Wolverton followed, and somehow, they made it through the crush. Richard moved a few paces ahead softly, careful to keep a respectable distance from his prey.

  “I cannot help but feel we are following Lord Ponsby.”

  “Do you not wish to dance with your duchess, Wolverton?”

  “Strangely, I am content to remain by your side.”

  “Taunting me?”

  “More like encouraging. My duchess tells me Lady Evelyn’s parents are determined to see her married to a certain viscount. However, she has set her cap on one particular gentleman and will not be swayed to marry another.” The amusement in the man’s tone was not soothing in the least, as if he shared in some private joke Richard was unaware of.

  It perplexed him the sense of loss that tore through him. “I wish her every success in snagging his attention.” Liar.

  The duke’s laugh was rough with amusement, and Richard stole a glance at him. “Would you care to share?”

  “No, I believe I will leave you to your evident hunt, and beseech my love for her dances.” Then he melted away into the crowd. Richard frowned, searching for any hidden meaning in his friend’s words. Ponsby slipped down the terrace steps to the gardens, and Richard wiped Wolverton and his meddling from his mind and followed.

  The revelry died away, and soon they were blanketed only by moonlight as they veered from the gas lit gardens. He listened keenly to the viscount’s rough footfall ahead, tracking him with stealth and precision. When Richard came upon the viscount by the pond, it was to see him smoking a cheroot. He allowed himself to be heard, and as a twig broke in the dark, Lord Ponsby spun around.

  “Is someone there?”

  Richard allowed the disquieting silence to linger longer than necessary.

  “I can see you, and I have a knife,” Lord Ponsby snapped.

  Richard chuckled. “I would like a word, Ponsby.”

  “Westfall?”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Good God, man, you gave me a fright.”

  “Did I now?”

  He strolled over, distantly admiring the glint of silver across the pond. This much closer, he could see the frown on the viscount’s face. Richard did not face him. Instead, he shifted, so they stood shoulder by shoulder.

  “To what do I owe your unexpected company?” Ponsby asked, taking a long pull on his cigar.

  “Hmm.” Richard supposed there was no discreet way around the matter, and he would simply need to be blunt. “You will not make an offer for Lady Evie. You will not call upon her, and you will no longer dance with her at balls. Is that understood?”

  There was a pulse of silence then a startled laugh from the viscount. “Devil take it, man, surely you are jesting.”

  “No…no, I am not. Disobey me in this, and I promise, you will suffer the consequences.”

  Lord Ponsby tensed at the not too subtle threat. “You know, in some of our clubs, the men speak of her being your mistress. There is rife speculation as to why a vision as lovely as Lady Evelyn is unmarried at twenty-two. Some say you plucked her from the tender age of s
ixteen. I’ve always discounted the rumors, but now I wonder…have you been tasting from her nectar, is that why I am being warned?” he murmured, a hard smile curving his lips.

  With a slight flick of his wrist, Richard had the hidden knife resting comfortably in the palm of his hand. He turned his head, contemplating the viscount with a curious detachment. “I wonder how you would fare without a tongue in your mouth.”

  The man frowned and moved back a step. “Look, Westfall,” he said with a nervous chuckle. “Unless you lay claim upon the lady, you have no cause to warn me away. My intentions are purely honorable. I do intend to marry her for she has my deepest admiration.”

  Richard caressed the blade of his knife. “I know your secrets, Ponsby. I know your depraved heart and desires. You are not fit to lick Lady Evie’s boots; hence you will stay away from her.”

  A sharp intake of breath pierced the air.

  “I know not of what you speak,” he said stiffly.

  “Madame Tulane.”

  A growl of fury emitted from the viscount. “You goddamned bastard,” he snarled and rushed at Richard.

  He flipped him, and before the viscount could recover, Richard had him in a one-arm choke lock, and with the other hand, he held the blade of his knife pressed against Ponsby’s sternum. “Easy,” Richard murmured. “Do not give me a reason to slit your throat and be done with it. Your mother and sisters are fond of your presence in their lives. I would hate to send them into mourning.”

  The viscount froze, his chest rising with rapid breaths. “My family must not know. They cannot know.”

  The fear of society learning of his proclivities throbbed in his voice. Little did Ponsby know how many of his depraved ilk were present in the ballroom in the far distance.

  “My concern is Lady Evie, Ponsby.”

  A shudder worked itself through his body. “Done.”

  Richard grunted at his easy capitulation, the spineless knave. “You will be delicate with your withdrawal. No hint of scandal will mar her name, are we understood?”

  “Yes. And do I have your word my secret is safe?”

  “You do.” He pressed the knife deeper against the viscount, the sharp blade cutting into his shirt to meet his flesh. “Do not make an enemy of me, Ponsby. I know your dark desires. You’ve only crossed my path because of Lady Evie. It would be a mortal mistake to lash out in your humiliation. I will kill you, without regrets. Do we understand each other?”

  “We do,” the viscount said, voice trembling.

  “Good.”

  Richard released him and melted away into the dark.

  …

  The festivities continued in grand style. Evie had indulged in a few dances, chatted with Adel, deflected two proposals, and somehow avoided Lord Ponsby, though not by her efforts. The man had seemingly slipped from the ball, despite securing her hand for two dances earlier. She would not regret her good fortune, but she was curious as to where he had absconded. Her mother’s events were well sought after and tonight was a successful crush.

  Though all the windows were opened, the heat and the jostle of the crowd were overwhelming. Feeling in need of a breath of fresh air, she moved toward the tall French doors that led outside and climbed the steps to one of the narrow balconies overlooking the grand ballroom. The cool air touched on her bare shoulder, sending shivers along her flesh, but nothing would induce her to return to the crush. A hollow feeling lingered in her heart that ached to be filled.

  There was a deliberate rustle behind her, and she whirled around. A figure stepped from the shadows, and her breath caught. Richard. Her cheeks grew suddenly hot with embarrassment. Despite missing him, she felt utterly unprepared to see him after their startling intimacy.

  “I…I thought you had left. I saw you earlier with Wolverton and then…” She stopped, not wanting to ramble and appear so gauche and uncertain. Be daring. “I thought it unusual you would leave without a lesson.”

  His gaze dropped to her lips and her whole being throbbed with an awareness of him and his blatant sensuality. His dark jacket fit his shoulders well, and his stance was insolently casual, making her want to rattle him. He was beautiful, in a way that was uniquely male.

  “No kissing,” he said flatly.

  “Do not blame me for your errant thoughts, I said lessons. That includes dancing and suggestions on how to capture my gentleman’s interest, if I recall properly.”

  He grunted and strolled closer but still maintained a respectable distance. She was excruciatingly conscious of his masculinity.

  “Is he here?”

  “Oh yes.”

  A muscle tensed in his cheek at her enthused response. Those golden eyes slashed to the crowd below, skipping over dozens of gentlemen, analyzing and dissecting them in that calculating way of his. What is he thinking?

  A soft, misting rain began to fall, and she tilted her face to the sky briefly. “We should return inside,” she said softly.

  He made no answer, only leaned with casual elegance against a column covered with flowering vines. Richard’s gaze glided leisurely over her, taking in every detail of her appearance.

  She flushed under his unwavering perusal. “You are staring.”

  Was he remembering how she had cried against his lips, begging for more as he pleasured her? How did anyone keep such a liaison a secret? If any of her friends or families saw them together now, they would know unequivocally they had been intimate. He was staring in that piercing, disturbing way of his, and carnal knowledge of her gleamed in his eyes. She felt hot and achy and couldn’t break the magnetism of his lingering gaze.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, his voice filled with bemusement. “I’d meant to leave just now, but then I saw you standing here watching the gaiety inside. Why are you out here?”

  Forcing her tongue to unknot and hoping to banish the sudden shyness twisting through her, she moved a few paces away. “Perhaps I wondered to where you disappeared.”

  His face fell into the shadows once again, and a baffling silence lingered. The strains of a waltz filtered on the air, and she sighed her pleasure.

  “The waltz is your favorite dance.”

  “It is.”

  “I am surprised no one would have claimed you.”

  She laughed lightly. “Mamma happily promised my hand to Lord Ponsby, but he has generously disappeared.”

  Something dark shifted in Richard’s gaze, and Evie frowned.

  “If you’ll honor me with this dance?” he said coolly.

  They hadn’t had an occasion to dance together for almost a year. “Mamma would faint.” Everyone in the ballroom below always seized upon and savored every tidbit of scandal about him that drifted their way. To see them dancing again after so long and so illicitly would create wild speculations in the scandal sheets. “But I would be delighted.”

  “Not inside. Here.”

  No doubt he was thinking of his dastardly reputation and the few ridiculous cartoons that had been drawn of them over the years. It warmed her heart and frustrated her in equal measure the care he was taking of her circumstances in society. She hesitated, before inclining her head in agreement. They met in the center of that narrow balcony. His hand settled about her waist, and his touch, though light, was an inescapable possession.

  With a raw, confident power only he seemed to possess, he moved her into the dance. Evie was very much aware of his arm about her waist and of the strength and power of the shoulder that flexed beneath her hand. They glided across the narrow length with seemingly effortless ease.

  He tugged her scandalously close, and her heart thudded as her breast at times grazed against his chest.

  “Be yourself, Evie.”

  She shifted, and her forehead butted his chin, so close he held her.

  “If you want his attention, be yourself. Your genuine and full laugh is not boisterous as your mother has berated, your joy will enchant him, your wit and charming personality will beguile him, you are irresistible…one smi
le from you and he will hunger to know your desires and be desperate to grant them.”

  He bent his dark head toward hers, and his warm breath caressed her lips. “Do nothing in half measures as your mother and governess have impressed upon you, and if you do not secure his affections, he does not deserve you.”

  She leaned back slightly and stared at him in speechless wonder. “If I am to be bold and do everything full measured as you say…I cannot withhold my kisses.”

  He grounded them to a halt, though the waltz had not ended. His eyes flashed a dangerous warning.

  She ran her fingers through his hair. “Do you deny it is impossible to know if someone is ideally suited to be your lifelong partner without a few but very discreet stolen kisses?”

  “Have a care, Evie,” he said smoothly, hooding his gaze. “I would hate to break the man’s bones.”

  He had never shown the least inclination to be so possessive before and a thrill burst in her heart. She gave a flirtatious shrug. “I think not,” she drawled. “At the opportune moment, I—”

  He dragged her up along his body, the strength in his action a scintillating shock. Before she could protest, his mouth slanted across hers with a ravening urgency. The raw force of his mouth possessed her, the strength of his hunger catching her unawares. He had never touched her with such roughness before, and she moaned in acceptance of his sensual dominance. He tasted dark…dangerous. Her hands fisted in his hair to hold him closer when she should be pushing him away. Anyone could come upon them. Slowly, inexorably, her blood heated and desire coursed through her like molten lava. Their tongues tangled wildly, and a long, low moan broke from her lips.

  He pulled from her, breathing heavily. She lifted trembling fingers to lips that were bruised.

  The harsh contours of his face were uncompromising. “If you value this man’s life, you will afford him no liberties until you are married.”

  His meaning was unequivocal. “You are outrageous,” she gasped.

  Without speaking, Richard melted away in the dark.

  Chapter Eight

  Evie was haunted by Richard’s kisses. It had been several days since she had almost been delightfully debauched, and despite keeping herself busy, memories of his illicit touch and his harsh kiss at the ball tormented her dreams. Her week had been hectic—a musicale on Monday, a carriage ride on Tuesday with a newly minted and wealthy baron whom her mother favored, a picnic on Wednesday with the Mosely sisters, balls on Thursday and Friday, a soiree on Saturday, and thankfully today, Sunday, she was free. Free to torment her thoughts with memories of his touch and his rejection of seductive lessons.