Married by Morning (12 page)

“I would never make that claim,” Leo said blandly.

“You don’t have to, my lord. The claim has often been made on your behalf. Will you deny it?”

It was hardly a question one would have expected from a well-bred miss upon first acquaintance. Leo gathered that he was supposed to be impressed by her audacity. However, after participating in an infinite number of such conversations in London parlors, he no longer found such remarks intriguing.

In London, a little sincerity was far more shocking than audacity.

“I wouldn’t claim to be accomplished in the bedroom,” he said. “Merely competent. And women usually don’t recognize the difference.”

Vanessa giggled. “What makes one accomplished in the bedroom, my lord?”

Leo glanced at her without smiling. “Love, of course. Without it, the entire business is merely a matter of technicalities.”

She looked disconcerted, but the flirtatious mask swiftly reappeared. “Oh, la, love is a passing thing. I may be young, but I’m hardly naïve.”

“So I’ve gathered,” he said. “Would you care to dance, Miss Darvin?”

“That depends, my lord.”

“On what?”

“On whether you’re competent or accomplished at it.”

“Touché,” Leo said, smiling despite himself.

Followed soon thereafter by gloom.

Standing at the side of the room, she and Beatrix watched as Leo waltzed with Miss Darvin.

They were a striking pair, Leo’s dark handsomeness perfectly balanced by Miss Darvin’s vibrant beauty. Leo was an excellent dancer, if a bit more athletic than graceful as he guided his partner around the room. And the skirts of Miss Darvin’s blue-green gown swirled most becomingly, a fold of her skirts occasionally wrapping against his legs from the motion of the waltz.

Miss Darvin was quite beautiful, with glowing dark eyes and rich sable hair. She murmured something that elicited a grin from Leo. He looked charmed by her. Absolutely charmed.

Catherine had a peculiar feeling in her stomach as she watched them, as if she had just swallowed a handful of tenpenny nails. Beatrix stood beside her and touched her back briefly, as if to offer comfort. Catherine felt a reversal of their usual roles, that instead of being the wise older companion, she was the one in need of reassurance and guidance.

She tried to school her features into blankness. “How attractive Miss Darvin is,” she commented.

“I suppose,” Beatrix said noncommittally.

“In fact,” Catherine added in a glum tone, “she’s enchanting.”

Beatrix watched Leo and Miss Darvin with thoughtful blue eyes as they executed a perfect turn. “I wouldn’t say
enchanting
…”

“I can’t see one flaw.”

“I can. Her elbows are knobby.”

Squinting through her spectacles, Catherine thought that perhaps Beatrix was right. They
were
a bit knobby. “That’s true,” she said, feeling a tiny bit better. “And doesn’t her neck seem rather too long?”

“She’s a giraffe,” Beatrix said with an emphatic nod.

Catherine strained to see Leo’s expression, wondering if he had noticed the abnormal length of Miss Darvin’s neck. It didn’t appear that he had. “Your brother seems taken with her,” she muttered.

“I’m sure he’s merely being polite.”

“He’s never polite.”

“He is when he wants something,” Beatrix said.

But that only sent Catherine plummeting into deeper gloom. Because the question of what Leo might want from the dark-haired beauty had no palatable answer.

A young gentleman came to ask Beatrix to dance, and Catherine gave her permission. Sighing, she leaned back against the wall and let her thoughts wander.

The ball was an unqualified success. Everyone was having a lovely time, the music was delightful, the food delicious, the evening neither too warm nor too cool.

And Catherine was miserable.

However, she was hardly going to let herself crumble like a dry teacake. Forcing a pleasant expression to her face, she turned to make conversation with a pair of elderly woman standing next to her. They were involved in an animated debate over the comparative merits of a chain stitch or a split stitch in outlining crewel embroidery. Trying to listen attentively, Catherine stood with her gloved fingers laced together.

“Miss Marks.”

She turned to the familiar masculine voice.

Leo was there, breathtaking in the formal evening scheme of black and white, his blue eyes sparkling wickedly.

“Would you do me the honor?” he asked, gesturing to the whirl of waltzing couples. He was asking her to dance. As he had once promised.

Catherine blanched as she became aware of the multitude of gazes on them. It was one thing for the host of the evening to confer briefly with his sister’s companion. It was something else entirely for him to dance with her. He knew it, and he didn’t give a damn.

“Go away,” she said in a sharp whisper, her heart beating wildly.

A faint smile touched his lips. “I can’t. Everyone’s watching. Are you going to give me a public setdown?”

She could not embarrass him that way. It was a violation of etiquette to refuse a man’s invitation to dance if it could have been construed that she didn’t wish to dance with him personally. And yet to be the focus of attention … to set tongues wagging … it was contrary to every instinct for self-preservation. “Oh, why are you doing this?” she whispered again, desperate and furious … and yet somewhere in the midst of her inner tumult, there was a tingle of delight.

“Because I want to,” he said, his smile widening. “And so do you.”

He was unforgivably arrogant.

He also happened to be right.

Which made her an
idiot
. If she said yes, she deserved whatever happened to her afterward.

“Yes.” Biting her lip, she took his arm and let him lead her toward the center of the room.

“You could try smiling,” Leo suggested. “You look like a prisoner being led to the gallows.”

“It feels more like a beheading,” she said.

“It’s just one dance, Marks.”

“You should waltz with Miss Darvin again,” she said, wincing inwardly as she heard the sullen note in her own voice.

Leo laughed quietly. “Once was enough. I’ve no wish to repeat the experience.”

Catherine tried, without success, to smother the ripple of pleasure that went through her. “You didn’t get on?”

“Oh, we got on marvelously, as long as we didn’t stray from the topic of utmost interest.”

“The estate?”

“No, herself.”

“I’m sure that with maturity, Miss Darvin will become less self-involved.”

“Perhaps. It’s of no importance to me.”

Leo took her into his arms, his hold firm and supportive, and inexplicably right. And an evening that had seemed so dreadful only moments before became so wonderful that Catherine was light-headed.

He held her, his right hand precisely against her shoulder blade, his left hand securing hers. Even through the layers of their gloves, she felt the thrill of contact.

The dance began.

In the waltz, the man was thoroughly in control of the timing, the pace, the sequence of steps. And Leo left Catherine no opportunity to falter. It was easy to follow him, every movement nonnegotiable. There were moments in which they seemed almost to hover before sweeping into another series of turns. The music was an audible ache of yearning. Catherine was silent, afraid to break the spell, focusing only on the blue eyes above hers. And for the first time in her life, she was wholly happy.

The dance lasted three minutes, perhaps four. Catherine tried to collect every second and commit it to memory, so that in the future she could close her eyes and bring it all back. As the waltz ended on a sweet, high note, she found herself holding her breath, wishing it would go on just a little longer.

Leo bowed and offered her his arm.

“Thank you, my lord. It was lovely.”

“Would you like to dance again?”

“I’m afraid not. It would be scandalous. I’m not a guest, after all.”

“You’re part of the family,” Leo said.

“You are very kind, my lord, but you know that’s not true. I am a paid companion, which means—”

She broke off as she became aware that someone, a man, was staring at her. Glancing in his direction, she saw a face that had haunted her in nightmares.

The sight of him, a figure from the past she had managed to evade for so long, extorted every bit of calm she possessed and sent her into full-scale panic. Only her grip on Leo’s arm kept her from doubling over as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. She tried to take a breath, and could only wheeze.

“Marks?” Leo stopped and turned her to face him, looking down at her bleached face in concern. “What is it?”

“A touch of the vapors,” she managed to say. “It must have been the exertion of the dance.”

“Let me help you to a chair—”

“No.”

The man was still staring at her, recognition dawning on his features. She had to get away before he approached her. She swallowed hard against the biting pressure of tears welling in her eyes and throat.

What might have been the happiest night of Catherine’s life had abruptly become the worst.

It’s over
, she thought with bitter grief. Her life with the Hathaways had come to an end. She wanted to die.

“What can I do?” Leo asked quietly.

“Please, will you see to Beatrix … tell her…”

She couldn’t finish. Shaking her head blindly, she walked out of the drawing room as quickly as possible.

The exertions of the dance, my arse
, Leo thought darkly. This was a woman who had moved a pile of rocks so that he could climb out of a pit. Whatever was bothering Catherine, it had nothing to do with the vapors. Glancing around the room with narrowed eyes, Leo saw a stillness amid the chattering crowd.

Guy, Lord Latimer, was watching Catherine Marks as intently as Leo was. And as she left the drawing room, Latimer began to make his way to the open doorway as well.

Leo scowled with the irritable awareness that the next time his family planned a ball or soirée, he was going to personally inspect the guest list. Had he known that Latimer would be invited, he would have drawn through the name with the darkest of ink.

Latimer, at the age of approximately forty, had reached the stage of life at which a man could no longer be called a rake, which implied a certain youthful immaturity, but instead a roué, which had the flavor of middle-aged unseemliness.

As next in line to an earldom, Latimer had little to occupy him, other than to wait for his father to die. In the meantime he had dedicated himself to the pursuit of vice and perversion. He expected others to clean up his messes, and he cared for no one’s comfort but his own. The place in his chest where a heart should have been was as empty as a calabash gourd. He was wily, clever, and calculating, all in service of satisfying his own boundless needs.

And Leo, in the depths of his despair over Laura Dillard, had tried his best to emulate him.

Recalling the escapades he had been involved in with Latimer and his cadre of dissipated aristocrats, Leo felt distinctly unclean. Since his return from France, he had scrupulously avoided Latimer. However, Latimer’s family was from the neighboring county of Wiltshire, and it would have been impossible to steer clear of him forever.

Seeing Beatrix approaching the side of the drawing room, Leo reached her in a few impatient strides and took her arm.

“No more dancing for now, Bea,” he murmured close to her ear. “Marks isn’t available to watch over you.”

“Why not?”

“I intend to find out. In the meantime, don’t get into trouble.”

“What should I do?”

“I don’t know. Go to the refreshment table and eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.” Beatrix heaved a sigh. “But I suppose one doesn’t need to be hungry to eat.”

“Good girl,” he muttered, and left the room swiftly.

Catherine ignored the summons, keeping her head down as she hurried along a hallway toward the servants’ stairwell. She was drowning in shame and fear. But she was also infuriated, thinking how monstrously unfair it was that this one man should keep ruining her life, over and over. She had known this would happen someday, that even though Latimer and the Hathaways moved in different circles, they would inevitably meet. But it had been worth the risk to be with the Hathaways, to feel that just for a little while, she had been part of a family.

Latimer grabbed her arm with bruising force. Catherine whirled to face him, her entire body shaking.

It surprised her to see the extent to which he had aged, his features blighted by coarse living. He was heavier, thick around the middle, and his ginger-colored hair was thinning. Most telling, his face had acquired the wizened look of habitual self-indulgence.

“I don’t know you, sir,” she said coolly. “You are importunate.”

Latimer didn’t let go of her arm. His devouring gaze made her feel polluted and ill. “I’ve never forgotten you. I looked for years. You went to another protector, didn’t you?” His tongue emerged to swipe moistly over his lips, and his jaw worked as if he were preparing to unhook it and swallow her whole. “I wanted to be your first. I paid a bloody fortune for it.”

Catherine took a shivering breath. “Release me at once, or I’ll—”

“What are you doing here, dressed in a spinster’s garb?”

She looked away from him, battling tears. “I am employed by the Hathaway family. By Lord Ramsay.”

“
That
I can believe. Tell me what services you provide for Ramsay.”

“Let go of me.” Her voice was low and strained.

“Not on your life.” Latimer drew her stiff body closer, his wine-soured breath wafting in her face. “Revenge,” he said softly, “is the act of a despicable and petty character. Which is no doubt why I’ve always enjoyed it so much.”

“What do you want revenge for?” Catherine asked, despising him to the bottom of her soul. “You lost nothing because of me. Except perhaps the merest fragment of pride, which you could easily afford.”

Latimer smiled. “There’s where you’re mistaken. Pride is all I have. I’m quite sensitive about it, really. And I won’t be satisfied until it’s returned with interest. Eight years of compounded pride is a tidy sum, wouldn’t you say?”

Catherine stared at him coldly. The last time she had seen him, she had been a fifteen-year-old girl with no resources, and no one to protect her. But Latimer had no idea that Harry Rutledge was her brother. Nor did it seem to have occurred to him that there might be other men who would dare to stand between him and what he wanted. “You disgusting lecher,” she said. “I suppose the only way you can have a woman is to purchase one. Except that I’m not for sale.”

“You were once, weren’t you?” Latimer asked idly. “You were a costly piece, and I was assured that you were worth it. Obviously you’re no virgin, being in service to Ramsay, but I’d still like a sample of what I paid for.”

“I owe you nothing! Leave me alone.”

Latimer stunned her by smiling, his face softening. “Come now, you do me a disservice. I’m not such a bad fellow. I can be generous. What does Ramsay pay you? I’ll triple it. It would be no hardship, sharing my bed. I know a thing or two about pleasing a woman.”

“I’m sure you know a great deal about pleasing yourself,” she said, twisting in his grasp. “Let
go
.”

“Don’t struggle, you’ll make me hurt you.”

They were both so involved in their conflict that neither of them noticed the approach of a third party.

“Latimer.” It was Leo’s voice, severing the air like the quiet arc of a steel blade. “If anyone were going to molest my servants, Latimer, it would be me. And I certainly wouldn’t require your assistance.”

To Catherine’s measureless relief, the brutal grip loosened and fell away. She backed up so hastily that she nearly stumbled. But Leo came to her swiftly, using a hand on her shoulder to arrest her momentum. The lightness of his grip, of a man mindful of fragility, was in stark contrast to Latimer’s.

She had never seen Leo wear such an expression, a murderous glitter in his eyes. He wasn’t at all the same man who had danced with her just minutes before.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Catherine nodded, staring up at him in dazed misery. How closely acquainted was he with Lord Latimer? Dear God, was it possible they were friends? And if so … given the chance, might Leo have done the same thing to her that Latimer once had, all those years ago?

“Leave us,” Leo murmured, removing his hand from her shoulder.

Glancing at Latimer, Catherine shivered in revulsion and fled from the pair, as her life came crashing down around her.

Leo stared after Catherine, resisting the urge to follow her. He would go to her later, and try to soothe or repair what damage had been done. And it was considerable damage—he had seen it in her eyes.

Turning to Latimer, Leo was powerfully tempted to slaughter the bastard where he stood. Instead he made his face implacable. “I had no idea you’d been invited,” he said, “or I would have advised the housemaids to go into hiding. Really, Latimer, must you force yourself on unwilling females with all the available ones to be had?”

“How long have you had her?”

“If you’re referring to Miss Marks’s period of employ, she’s been with the family not quite three years.”

“There’s no need to maintain the pretense that she’s a servant,” Latimer said. “Clever lad, installing your mistress in the family household for your own convenience. I want a go at her. Just for one night.”

Leo found it increasingly difficult to restrain his temper. “What in God’s name gave you the idea that she’s my mistress?”

“
She’s the girl
, Ramsay. The one I told you about! Don’t you remember?”

“No,” Leo said curtly.

“We were in our cups at the time,” Latimer conceded. “But I thought you were paying attention.”

“At your sober best, Latimer, you’re irrelevant and annoying. Why would I have paid attention to anything you said when you were drunk? And what the devil do you mean, ‘she’s the girl’?”

“I purchased her from my old madam. I won her in a private auction of sorts. She was the most charming thing I’d ever seen, no more than fifteen, with those golden curls, and such remarkable eyes. The madam assured me the girl was absolutely untouched, and yet she had been told all the ways to pleasure a man. I paid a fortune to have the girl at my service for the period of a year, with an option to continue the arrangement if I desired.”

“How convenient,” Leo said, his eyes narrowed. “I suppose you never bothered to ask the girl if she desired the arrangement?”

“Irrelevant. The agreement was all to her benefit. It was her fortune to be born a beauty, and she would learn how to profit from it. Besides, they’re all prostitutes, aren’t they? It’s only a question of circumstance and price.” Latimer paused, smiling quizzically. “She told you none of this?”

Leo ignored the question. “What happened?”

“On the day Catherine was delivered to my house, before I’d sampled the goods, a man forced his way in and took her. Literally abducted her. One of my footmen tried to stop him and took a bullet in the leg for his pains. By the time I realized what was happening, the man had already taken Catherine past the front threshold. I can only assume that he had lost the private auction and decided to take what he wanted by force. Catherine disappeared after that. I’ve wanted her for eight years.” Latimer gave a low laugh. “And now she’s turned up in your possession. I don’t know that I’m surprised, really. You’ve always been a devious bastard. How did you manage to acquire her?”

Leo was momentarily silent. His chest was filled with searing anguish for Catherine’s sake. Fifteen. Betrayed by those who should have protected her. Sold to a man without morals or mercy. The thought of what Latimer would have done to Catherine made Leo ill. Latimer’s depravities wouldn’t have stopped at mere physical violation—he would have destroyed her soul. No wonder Catherine found it impossible to trust anyone. It was the only rational response to impossible circumstances.

Leveling a cold stare at Latimer, Leo reflected that if he were just a bit less civilized, he would have killed the bastard on the spot. However, he would have to settle for keeping him away from Catherine, and doing whatever was necessary to keep her safe.

“She is owned by no one,” Leo said with care.

“Good. Then I’ll—”

“She is under my protection, however.”

Latimer arched a brow, amused. “What am I to infer from that?”

Leo was deadly serious. “That you are to go nowhere near her. That she’ll never have to endure the sound of your voice or the insult of your presence ever again.”

“I’m afraid I can’t oblige you.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to.”

A coarse laugh erupted. “Surely you’re not threatening me.”

Leo smiled coldly. “Much as I always tried to ignore your inebriated ravings, Latimer, a few things did stick in my memory. Some of your confessions of misconduct would make more than a few people unhappy. I know enough of your secrets to land you in Marshalsea prison without so much as a chum ticket. And if that’s not enough, I would be more than willing to resort to bashing your skull in with a blunt object. In fact, I’m becoming quite enthused about the idea.” Seeing the astonishment in the other man’s eyes, Leo smiled without humor. “I see you grasp my sincerity. That’s good. It might save us both some inconvenience.” He paused to give his next statement greater impact. “And now I’m going to instruct my servants to escort you off my estate. You’re not welcome.”

The older man’s face went livid. “You’ll regret having made an enemy of me, Ramsay.”

“Not nearly as much as I’ve regretted having once made a friend of you.”

“What happened to Catherine?” Amelia asked Leo when he returned to the drawing room. “Why did she leave so suddenly?”

“Lord Latimer accosted her,” he said shortly.

Amelia shook her head in bewildered outrage. “That repulsive goat—why would he dare?”

“Because that’s what he does. He’s an affront to polite company and every standard of moral decency. A better question would be why the devil we invited him.”

“We didn’t invite him, we invited his parents. Obviously he came in their stead.” She threw him an accusing glance. “And he’s an old acquaintance of yours.”

“From now on, let’s assume that every old acquaintance of mine is either a lecher or a criminal and should be kept far away from the estate and the family.”

“Did Lord Latimer harm Catherine?” Amelia asked anxiously.

“Not physically. But I want someone to see to her. I expect she’s in her room. Will you go to her, or send Win?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Don’t ask questions. Just make certain she’s all right.”

A half hour later, Win came to Leo with the information that Catherine had declined to say anything other than she wished to retire undisturbed.

It was probably for the best, Leo thought. Although he wanted to go up to her and offer comfort, he would let her sleep.

On the morrow, they would sort everything out.

Leo awakened at the hour of nine and went to Catherine’s door. It was still closed, and there was no sound from within. It took all his self-control to keep from opening the door and waking her. However, she needed to rest … especially in light of what he intended to discuss with her later.

It seemed to Leo as he went downstairs that the entire household, including servants, was practically sleepwalking. The ball hadn’t ended until four in the morning, and even then some of the guests had been reluctant to leave. Sitting in the breakfast room, Leo drank a mug of strong tea and watched as Amelia, Win, and Merripen came in. Cam, always a late riser, was still absent.

“What happened to Catherine last night?” Amelia asked quietly. “And what of Lord Latimer’s precipitate departure? More than a few tongues were wagging.”

Leo had considered whether or not to discuss Catherine’s secrets with the rest of the family. They would have to be told something. And although he would not go into detail, he felt it would be easier for Catherine if someone else gave the explanation. “As it turns out,” he said carefully, “when Cat was a girl of fifteen, her so-called family made an arrangement with Latimer.”

“What kind of arrangement?” Amelia asked. Her eyes widened as Leo sent her a speaking glance. “Dear Lord.”

“Thankfully Rutledge intervened before she was forced to—” Leo broke off, surprised by the note of fury in his own voice. He struggled to moderate it before continuing. “I needn’t elaborate. However, it’s obviously not a part of Cat’s past that she’s fond of dwelling on. She’s been in hiding for the past eight years. Latimer recognized her last evening, and upset her badly. I’m sure she’ll awaken this morning with some notion of leaving Hampshire.”

Merripen’s features were stern, but his dark eyes were warm with compassion. “There’s no need for her to go anywhere. She’s safe with us.”

Leo nodded, rubbing the edge of the teacup with the pad of his thumb. “I’ll make that clear when I talk with her.”