A Breach of Promise (6 page)

“There is no point. I already know we will never suit.”

Marcus scowled. Regardless of what she might think, he had never really been averse to her. Indeed, he recalled with fond amusement the memory of her tippling champagne from the tree swing, if perhaps a bit less fondly the clumsy events that followed.

He was suddenly struck with another disconcerting notion—could it be that Lydia held that night in quite a different light? Did she anticipate dissatisfaction in their marriage bed? If that was her concern, he was determined to lay that vagary to rest.

“On the contrary, my pet. There is one area at least where I’m certain we would suit very well.”

Her eyes flashed. “You actually think I’m still attracted to you?”

“You dare deny it?” He flashed a smile meant to disarm if not to altogether devastate.

“It matters little whether I am or not. Animal lust is a most feeble foundation for marriage.”

“
Animal lust?
” He laughed outright. “Mayhap my appeal is stronger than I thought?”

Lydia’s eyes flashed. “You twist my meaning!”

Marcus stroked a finger down the column of her neck and noted her heaving breasts with satisfaction. “I think not. Nevertheless, attraction, magnetism, lust, whatever you choose to call it, is a stronger basis than most marriages seem to be founded upon. Why do you suppose so many men take mistresses? And why so few offspring are produced in aristocratic marriages? Never underestimate sexual desire, Lydia. It is a powerful and often overwhelming force.”

“You will never persuade me that it’s a sound basis for marriage.” Lydia’s pink tongue flicked over her lips, clearly betraying her confident words.

“Is that a challenge, Lydia? Shall I prove it to you?”

“There is absolutely nothing to be gained by the effort.” Her convulsive swallow once more gave her away. She added with greater force, “Like a mountain, Marcus, I shall not be moved.”

Marcus relished the sudden apprehension in her wide eyes when his gaze slid down to her mouth and held there. “Fair enough, my pet. If the mountain will not come to Mohammed, let Mohammed go to the mountain.”

Lydia was transfixed, powerless under his intense stare, as if he’d put her under some wicked spell. Though she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. His eyes—dilated pools of blackness—held her, spreading heat from her core to every tingling inch of her. Her pulse thrummed with the sheer awareness of his physicality.

She closed her eyes against the sensations but they only intensified, his sweet tangy scent thickening the air and causing her breath to come in short, quick rasps, his warm breath fanning her skin. His gaze fixed upon her mouth and his hand brushed over her cheek to cup her jaw. Ignoring her inner protest, her body acted on its own volition, upturning her face and softly parting her lips. Her whole body quivered in anticipation of this kiss.

Her breathing hitched when his lips met hers, at first brushing over them in a warm caress, then sliding, nipping, melding until he took utter possession. Her feeble attempt at protest gave him added purchase to take her lower lip between his teeth and gently tug on the soft flesh. His tongue followed, deliciously teasing, tasting her lips before sliding into her mouth.

She had been kissed once before but nothing like this. His hot, wet tongue tangling with hers made her stomach flip and her passage clench, pooling with warmth and dizzying desire. He deepened the kiss, his hands working into her hair, pulling it down, scattering pins. “Don’t fight me, Lydia. I can show you paradise if you’ll only let me.” When Marcus murmured those seductive words against her skin, she yielded with a muted whimper.

The kiss was uninvited, unexpected, and shocking…and Lydia found herself clinging to it for dear life.

Lydia tore away with a stifled cry, confounded how he managed to exert such a terrifying magnetic force on her with seemingly no exertion at all. Outrage mixed with self-recrimination, she gathered up her skirts and fled, nearly running smack into Mariah upon her reentry through the terrace doors.

“I was coming to find you,” Mariah said. “Lud, Lyddie!” She gaped at her cousin’s rumpled and bewildered appearance. “You look positively debauched! You mustn’t let anyone else see you like this.”

Mariah pulled her into the empty music room, where Lydia caught sight of herself in the gilt mirror poised over the mantel and gasped in horror. Her color was high, her eyes shone feverishly bright, and clumps of her hair hung in disarray.

“Did that vile scoundrel accost you?” Mariah asked.

Heat infused Lydia’s already flushed cheeks. “Sadly, no. Although I would like nothing more than to accuse Marcus of importuning me, the fact is I made not the slighted protest.”

“What
did
he do to you?” Mariah asked in an excited whisper.

Lydia’s lips quivered in outrage. “The worst thing imaginable. He has kissed me senseless.”

“Oh my!” Mariah’s hand flew to her mouth.

“Oh my, indeed! He has deprived me of all reason.” Lydia’s hands shook as she pulled the remaining pins from her hair to repair the damage.

“Here, let me help you.” Mariah took them from her and tucked up the stray strands. “It’s a lucky thing you have natural wave, and even better that you wore most of it down. So what has happened? Do you mean you have reconciled with him?”

“Lud no! The man frightens me.”

“The beast
did
accost you!” Mariah hissed.

“No, dearest. What I meant to say is that my reaction to him frightens me witless. It’s as if I’m no longer myself with him, but some other…creature! One with no notion of time, or place, or even of decorum. I feared for my own lack of restraint!”

Mariah looked stunned. “But how could this occur from a simple kiss?”

“That’s just it, Mariah. There was nothing
simple
about it! I don’t understand it. I can’t even trust myself anymore. It’s as if he has cast some evil charm over me and turned me into a wanton!”

“You, a wanton?” Mariah’s eyes widened. “He must have bewitched you! Whatever will you do?”

Lydia clasped her cousin’s arm with a look nearing panic. “Mariah, under
no circumstances
must I be alone with him again.”

“A drink, Needham,” Marcus demanded. “Perhaps I should make it an entire bottle. I have great need of something particularly…
numbing
.” The two men repaired to the library where Marcus dismissed the footman and helped himself to a generous glass of whiskey.

“Sorry, ol’ chap. Though I suspected she would be more immune to your charm than you believed, I’d have never imagined you’d take it so hard.”

“
Hard?
An interesting choice of words,” Marcus said. “I can’t remember such a cock stand since you and I pooled our allowance to hire our first whore.”

Nicholas’ brows shot up. “I am uncertain how to interpret that very enlightening bit of information.”

“It means I want her, Nick. She has the body of Venus and the innate sensuality of Voluptus and I want her so badly my bloody teeth ache.” He emptied his glass in one long draught and refilled it again. He offered the bottle to Nick who demurred.

“But she still won’t have you, eh?”

Marcus regarded Nick with a self-satisfied smirk. “Oh, I think she’ll have me all right. She melted like chocolate and damned well tasted like it too.”

“So progress
was
made in your, er, negotiations?”

“Yes and no,” Marcus answered with a wry twist of his lips. “She’s responsive as hell, far more than I would have anticipated, but fighting it like the devil too. I think she’s scared of her own passion.”

“An interesting dilemma.”

“A bloody frustrating one.” Marcus took another drink. “I’ve tried reason. I’ve tried charm. She still wishes to call it off. It’s time for more drastic measures.”

Nick gave him an inquiring look.

“I’ll ruin her, Nick, and when I’m done, she’ll be too damned sated to care. All I need is to get her alone.”

Chapter Five

“My moment has come at last,” Marcus said to his mother when he called again at Russell House.

“What do you mean, Marcus?”

“The Duke of Bedford is leaving the Admiralty to become the Secretary of State for the Southern Department and it’s rumored Lord Sandwich will be awarded his vacated seat—if a suitable replacement can be found to complete the peace treaty.”

“But that would be you!” Lady Russell exclaimed with delight.

“Not quite, I’m afraid. I am of several
Secrétaires d’ambassade
under consideration, a number of whom have considerably more experience than me. While I have every intention of playing up to my advantage, I’m also not the only one with a blood connection to the Ministry. Edward Montagu, as you know, claims a close kinship with Lord Sandwich.”

“Then, dearest, you must simply work to put the others
out
of consideration. What do you know of them? If you are to succeed, you must learn to exploit your adversaries’ every weakness,” Lady Russell declared with a ruthless ferocity that made Marcus’ brows shoot upward. “That advice may even apply to some who only
imagine
themselves your adversary.” She gave a very telling grin.

“I need no further guidance on
that
score, Mama. I am quite able to handle the lovely Lydia without your further meddling.” Marcus chuckled and kissed his mother’s cheek. “But my dear, I assure you I am only too glad to have you on
my
side.”

* * * * *

“My dear girls, I have quite the surprise for you,” Lady Russell beamed with self-satisfaction when Lydia and Mariah came to the solar for tea. “Marcus has just brought us an invitation to Woburn Abbey.”

Lydia looked blank.

“It’s the country seat of the Dukes of Bedford,” Lady Russell explained, pouring steaming hyson into three delicate cups of the finest Chelsea porcelain.

“What manner of invitation?” Lydia asked.

“Why, a house party, of course. After spending a king’s ransom on renovations to the manse and half again as much on his parterre gardens, the duke is eager to show it all off.” She handed the tea cups to Lydia and Mariah. “The main event, however, is a very important political dinner that Marcus must attend and we are to accompany him.”

“We?” Lydia asked, incredulous. “What has this to do with us?”

Lady Russell smiled indulgently. “You do have much to learn of politics, my dear, but I shall endeavor to teach you.” She took a sip of tea and then continued matter-of-factly. “The political world is built completely around personal alliances. Although Marcus is fortunate enough to have in the Duke of Bedford, one of the Ministry’s most powerful and influential men, as his chief patron, he cannot presume wholly upon this family connection. Marcus must build his own sphere of influence, and as his betrothed,
you
must help him.”

Lydia looked aghast. “But I have no intention of becoming his wife. How can I do such a thing when you know I wish to end our betrothal?”

Lady Russell smiled. “Would you really refuse this small boon when Marcus is in need of a beautiful and charming woman to help pave his way?”

Uncertainty marked Lydia’s face.

“Forget Marcus then,” Lady Russell pressed on. “Go for your own benefit. The exposure to such people can only do you credit and elevate you in society.”

Lydia still hesitated.

“Very well, my dear. Should you condescend to do this one tiny favor for me, you have my solemn word that Marcus will be completely amenable to your wishes.”

Lydia sighed. “My lady, you make it impossible for me to refuse.”

“Precisely, my dear,” Lady Russell said. “And it would behoove you greatly to learn from my example. Now,” she set her cup down decisively in its saucer, “let us see to the packing.”

* * * * *

The convoy departing for Woburn Abbey comprised Lady Russell’s immense traveling carriage, followed by Marcus’ lighter post chaise, trailed by the baggage train. Once all was determined ready for departure, Marcus handed Lydia up into his mother’s coach, and then turned to assist Mariah, whose first step upward was accompanied by a jerk backward and the sharp sound of renting taffeta.

“I am so very sorry, child.” Her ladyship looked painfully contrite at having trod on Mariah’s hem. “’Twas unforgivably clumsy of me! Let us have a look.” Mariah stepped back down to reveal a six-inch tear in the back of the skirt.

“Botheration!” Lady Russell cried. “I suppose there’s naught to be done now but to change your gown or to attempt to repair the damage.”

Marcus interjected, “Mama, I can hardly afford the delay.”

“But we shan’t be more than an hour,” Lady Russell replied.

“I’m sorry but I must be off at once. I cannot give Edward Montagu any more advantage over me than he already has. We are both vying for the position of Lord Sandwich’s First Secretary for the upcoming Peace Congress.”

“I suppose you are right. While ladies are generally allowed certain license in these matters, it would not do at all for you to arrive late. There is only one answer. You and Mr. Needham must proceed ahead of us in the chaise. Mariah, Lydia, and I will follow anon in the coach.”