Lord Heartless (8 page)

He moved to the other side of the settee and waited until she sat down before lowering his body to the cushions. Funny, in all his years, this must have been the first time he’d ever indulged. The fabric cool and crisp, not yet bent from repeated use. Perchance that would change? Maybe tomorrow, he would take his leave after supper and spend the night up here with her. His gaze shifted across the space of another cushion to the woman beside him.

Tonight, her hair lay in soft waves down her long, slender back. He wondered if the texture would be like silk, smooth and luxurious.
Dare he?
  Taking a deep breath, he leaned back and extended his left arm along the sofa back. He heard her take a slight breath of air as she clasp both hands tightly against her knees, so cleverly concealed beneath her wrapper. Tonight, no gossamer fabric was more alluring than this country maid’s proper cotton gown. His glance moved toward her face, caressing each curve, pausing to watch the lift of her breasts as the fabric pulled tight, an obvious sign of her nervousness.

“Juliet,” he whispered her name and with a tender touch reached out and let his fingers brush against the loose gold. The shoe slid to the other foot. A rush of desire roared through his veins to settle heavily in his groin with the decadent need to feel the silk sweep against the hairs of his chest. “Did you enjoy dinner?”

She tucked her chin slightly toward her chest and those blue-green eyes turned to gaze at him. “Your cook should be commended for a beautiful meal.”

He smiled. “I will relay the lady’s wishes.”

There was a smile upon her lips, yet he detected an unknown strike of steel in her reserve. His hands stopped in mid twist of a curl about his finger. “Juliet, is there something wrong?”

“In truth, my lord, I believe there might be a misunderstanding that needs to be addressed before this marriage goes forward.”

Her words brought a tightening to his lungs. For a moment, Landon struggled to breathe. “Please, explain to me what you mean.”

“I admit I jumped at your proposed arrangement. You—you must think me foolish, accepting so quickly.” Her fingers plucked at the edges of the satin ribbon that held her wrapper closed.

Landon slid across and covered her hands with his. “Never, my dear. You were left in a rather delicate position and not one of your making. I dare say, you had not thought of your own needs, had you?”

She shook her head. “My staff, those that you saw the other day, had been with the family since my birth. They are Holly Grove, Lord Montague. I wished to preserve their jobs.”

He gave a gentle squeeze of her hand. “And you did, my fair Juliet. You showed more honor than any man in such a similar situation might have done. But fear not, you are now safe.”

“Ah, yes, safe.” She dampened her lips and slowly brought her gaze to his. “I must admit, when we first spoke, you seemed keen on coming to me to produce an heir.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Really? I find myself surprised, for you already have procured an issue.”

Landon moved a thumb in soft, rhythmic circles across the satin heel of her thumb. “Alexander is seven years old, Juliet. I admit in my youth, I was brash and careless. When his mother presented him to us, I took my responsibilities seriously. I have raised him as a full Montague and legal heir, but it would be nice for Alexander if he did not have to assume the full weight of sole ownership of the Montague name. I wish for other children conceived with the benefit of a legal marriage.”

“I see.”

He watched her eyes shift from side to side as she processed the information. Lifting his left hand, he pushed back the curtain of gold silk and ran his knuckles over the pulsing beat of her neck from earlobe to shoulder. “Such a beautiful neck,” he whispered and leaned close to press his lips against the throbbing vein. Beneath the tender flesh, her heart took a second beat. He raised his head a fraction of an inch away from the skin. “If it eases your conscience, I have not had another lover in several months.”

She pulled her hand away and rose. “Tell me, this child, Alexander, he was not conceived by marriage to his mother?”

He stared. “I am not sure I understand?”

“Really?” She turned and laid her head to the side. “You are not sure if you married his mother? Did someone stand in for you? Did you pay for a second?”

“No.” Landon rose and walked to the other side of the couch. This was not the way the conversation was to go. He was not about to drag the dirty laundry of Alexander’s birth with Juliet. Not now, not until he was sure she would understand the circumstances. He swallowed and brought a hand to the juncture of his hip and counted to ten before turning to face her. “No, Juliet, what I meant was I would like to have a child while married to you. Perhaps we should table this conversation for another time. It is our wedding night.”

“Ah, and there is the rub, for you see, there is no need for you to come to me. You have an heir.”

Landon blinked. “Madam?”

“The need for my body to serve as a host for your heir is moot. So this part of our business arrangement will not be, shall we say, consummated.”

“I…I do not understand.”

Juliet garnered her thoughts, then spoke. “You presented yourself falsely, sir. Under the circumstances, I have no other alternative but to remain you wife in name only.”

Mouth slack, Landon could only watch as she turned and moved into her bedroom. “Lady Juliet,” he mumbled as the door clicked. In two strides he stood at the entryway, hand upon the knob only to listen to the key turn. His heart began to race. He had been turned out of his rightful place in her bed. “Open this door,” he demanded. “Juliet, I am your husband.”

“Good night, Lord Montague.”

“Open this door!” His voice rose as he shook the knob. Swirling on his heel, Landon made for the door. He could find solace elsewhere. A game of cards always brought a willing body. Exiting the room, he slammed the door and the walls trembled.

Landon lifted the chips to his right and pondered his wager. He’d come to the club hoping to lose the anger but tonight the cards seemed to be against him. He let the markers fall from his fingertips, and they clicked as they hit the table. The gambling house, which lay a stone’s throw from the theater district, boasted the brightest company. Yet, tonight it all seemed dull. Even the conversations of the men at his own table seemed trivial.

He wished to be someplace else. Someplace familiar, where a soft, warm body lay wrapped in satin. Her body hidden by homely cotton and those silken blond curls flowing across a pillowcase. Hurt twisted in his chest. Gathering a handful of colored chips, he tossed them onto the pile. “I’ll wager another twenty pounds.”

“Too rich for my blood.” The man to his right set his cards upon the table.

“You’re mind is elsewhere tonight, Lord Montague?” the man directly across from him asked as his fingers fanned the cards he held.

“Yes, Scarborough.” He sighed tiredly. “I have matters on my mind.” Landon picked his cards back up and stared at them.
Of all the men to be gambling with
. Landon’s jaw twitched at the irony of the situation.

“Hm,” Lord Scarborough mused. “I must say, after the announcement, I find it surprising you are here at all.”

“Announcement?” The peer to his left spoke up and lifted his glance to Landon. “Lord Montague, is there something you’ve not told us?”

Landon gave Scarborough a dark glance. “No, nothing.”

“Really, Montague, you can’t keep it a secret for long.” Scarborough’s cheek twitched. “Have you not heard, sir? Lord Montague sits across from you a married man.”

“Be quiet, Scarborough.”

“Marriage? You?” Lord Crawford’s eyes widened.

Landon had no choice but to agree. “It appears so.”

“Why man, are you here? If the matter was left to me, I would be beneath the sheets exploring Venus’s prize.”

A chorus of rough laughter followed and Landon found his sensibilities shaken by the rowdy remarks. “What goes on behind the doors at Broadmoor is not up for discussion.”

“Forgive me,” Lord Crawford replied.

Suddenly the game seemed less than worthwhile. Landon tossed his cards upon the table and rose. “I am done. Send my portion of the pot to the church.”

“Would it sweeten the deal for you to stay if the stakes were higher?” Scarborough asked.

Landon shifted his gaze across the table.

Scarborough’s face darkened. “Shall we wager a night in cupid’s arms? Surely if you are not interested in completing the deed….” He shrugged.

Landon’s hand came down flat upon the table, rattling the chips and drawing the eyes of all in the room. “Sir, you have gone too far. Take heed of your tongue that you do not find it cut from your mouth to wither upon the floor.”

Scarborough’s chest expanded and slowly he rose from his chair.

“Gentlemen,” Crawford called. “Let us not say things in haste that can not be rescinded.”

“Lord Montague, is something amiss?” A voice near to his right drew Landon’s eyes away from his adversary. Tall, broad-shouldered, his hair still the color of ginger, the Duke of Norfolk did not appear near the sixty years he had lived.

“No, nothing of importance, sir.” Landon watched Scarborough’s lips lift in victory.

“Ah, good. I hope these men won’t mind if I borrow you for a discussion?” The duke glanced the direction of the men at the table.

“No, your lordship.” Crawford tipped his head.

“Scarborough?” the duke asked, raising his brow.

“None.”

“Lord Montague.” The duke gestured to the other room.

Landon gave Scarborough one last dark glance before moving away.

“Oh, Scarborough, you might want to check on your wife. I hear she has just lost quite a lot of money in the cribbage room,” said the duke.

***

Landon stood at the door and waited for the duke.

“Walk with me, Lord Montague,” the duke said and motioned for him to follow. They made their way past the rowdy guests enjoying drink and cards until they came to stout doors off the main room. The duke pulled the door open and ushered him inside.

“I wish to thank you for your intervention,” Landon began.

“Scarborough is a pox on London,” the duke grumbled. “His time is coming.” He tugged on his vest. “Please, Landon, sit. I did not call you in to talk to you about that problem.”

Hesitantly, Landon moved to one of the leather chairs before the fireplace. Lowering his body, he stretched his arms along the length of the sides and gripped the edges, wondering what was to come.

“A glass of port?”

Landon glanced to his right. “Yes, thank you.”

The glass clinked as the duke poured a measure of the fine liquor into two small stemmed glasses.

“Nothing like a good port in the evening,” the duke remarked as he handed one of the glasses to him.

Landon gave a quick smile and waited while he took his seat.

“I must say, I was surprised to hear of your marriage.”

Landon stared at his glass. “It was….” He searched for the words. “Rather a surprise on my end as well.”

“You didn’t know Gilbert had a daughter?”

“No.” Landon took a sip of the drink and found it unsatisfying. Leaning forward, he placed it on the table between them. “Not until my solicitor began his investigation. Barely over twenty, I-I could not turn her out.”

“So you married her.”

Landon nodded.

“Quite noble of you,” the duke said.

He hung his head and let out a soft breath. “It seemed best.”

The duke’s lips twitched. “I knew your father, you know.”

“Yes.”

“Had I been quicker, your mother’s hand in marriage would have gone to me. I never understood how Augustus could leave her so often. But we can’t change time can we?” the duke said.

He shook his head.

“That name of yours is quite regretful, Lord Heartless. The scandal sheets have no mercy when it comes to the Ton, I fear. Yet, I find you are putting forth an effort to change that. This marriage has gone a long way. Allow me to play the part of a father. How do you feel about this girl?”

“Feel? She vexes me.”

The duke smiled. “Women do. I think it is part of their charm.”

Landon needed to move. He rose from the chair and stepped to the mantel. Even though there were no flames in the hearth he stared at the dark ash as he spoke. “She locked me out of our bedchambers.”

“Did she now? And did she give reason?”

“I—I neglected to tell her of my son,” Landon admitted.

“Ah, well then there is the problem.” The duke sighed.

“The problem.” Landon gave a gruff laugh. “The problem is I find myself fascinated by her. The way she turns her head. How the light catches her hair turning into a halo. The laughter that seems to brighten the room, and the shade of pink that darkens her cheek when I catch her staring in my direction. The way she responds to my teasing with her own keen wit.” He turned and faced the duke. “Tell me, sir, is there truly such a thing as love at first sight?”

***

Last night she’d successfully avoided her husband despite his skill and determination. Victory remained hers for although he knocked and called to her with the voice of an angel, she slept alone and her dignity remained intact. Lifting the brush, she brought it through the curls flattened by her nightcap. Tangles tamed, they bounced back to life unrestricted just as Lord Montague’s ardor had yet to be quenched. Her shoulders drew up as she took a deep breath. Casting a glance at the rumpled bedsheets, the thought struck her, she needed to do something to quell the rumors.

Opening the drawer on her right, she pulled out the tin of cheek rouge and untwisted the cap. The small dram of wine Helen left on her dresser would at come in handy. Using her finger, she mixed a pinch of the pot rouge into the wine and watched the liquid take on a bloody glow. She grasped the glass and moved to the bed. Hands trembling, she poured a small amount onto the sheet, then dumped the rest into the chamber pot. Crude, but the stain would cover the injustice done to his reputation. She placed the glass onto the nightstand and walked back toward the dresser. Theirs would be a delicate dance until she understood his true intentions; however she would not shame him in his own home.