To Marry a Marquess (11 page)
At the top of the stairs, Victoria felt the panic rise to her throat as she inched from her position against the wall to peer down at the man standing at the edge of the drawing room doors, holding William in his arms. It was the same man from the inn, and he looked even more ominous than he had when she had seen him last.
Yet he seemed different now, too. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying William's preoccupation with his looks, the peacock that he was. Why, even that dark brown jacket fitted him to perfection, making him look more powerful than she remembered. And his boots looked as if they were polished only five minutes ago. Of course, he was checking that infernal pocket watch again. The man was preoccupied with order and time, and that was something she could certainly do without. He probably had his entire life timed to the minute. Odious man!
As if reading her mind, he showed William the timepiece in question. The boy smiled and put it to his ear.
Victoria frowned, not wanting the man to be so agreeable. Well, he was kind to children. So what? That did not mean she could trust him. He knew about Nightham, and that was a threat to her and her family, something she'd best remember. He was also the son of the duke Phoebe was to marry. He could easily stop the wedding.
She watched in shock as William ran his hand along the man's clean-shaven face, then jerked his snowy white cravat, almost choking the man to death. Good heavens, William had more nerve than she did. She should have had him with her at the inn!
When William's feet finally hit the floor, Victoria narrowed her brows in dismay as her cousin began to brush his fingers over the man's jacket, touching the row of shiny brass buttons as if they were the most precious jewels in the world. The pair of pokey little fingers moved down past the slick black breeches, all the way to the man's Hessians.
But as William continued his inspection, Victoria caught herself mesmerized by the man herself. For a few seconds she let down her guard and gave the man a chance to glance her way. At least she thought the man had cast a quick gaze up the stairs.
She pulled her head behind the corner and froze. Had he recognized her?
"So matie, are you a pirate or not?"
The man let out a hearty laugh at William's question. "After your careful inspection, what would you say I am, little man?"
Victoria peeked back and saw the man step halfway into the hall. The skin around his eyes crinkled into a soft, endearing smile that wrapped around her heart. She shook her head. What was she thinking? This man could ruin her.
And he had the audacity to ask her to trust him? She was a fool, but she wasn't stupid!
"I would say that you are a pirate!" William took his own pirate hat off his head as he started circling the gentlemen. "But a good pirate. Like me."
"A good pirate, eh?"
William slapped his hat back onto his bobbing head. "Yes, a good pirate. One that will protect the treasures in this house."
"Treasures?"
"Yes, and since you are a good pirate, I will tell you something. I am Pirate William and this is Cap'n Whitie."
William pulled out his second in command and grinned. "We protect this house and all the princesses in it."
The man's eyes narrowed as he stared at the white mouse in the boy's hand. "Ah, I see. Espionage at its finest."
"What?" William asked, his nose scrunching. "Oh, yes,
ess
... espionage."
Victoria bent over in merriment, her gaze dropping to Aunt Phoebe and Sarah as they came into view. The man was not as stuffy as she had once presumed. Still...
"And here are the princesses, are they not?" The pirate peered down the hall.
"Yes, princesses," William went on, "but I saw the villain, too. So did Cap'n Whitie." He tugged on the man's coat.
But the pirate had already straightened from his hunched position, ready to meet the two females coming his way.
"I said," William piped louder, "I saw the villain! And—" but his words were lost in the formal introductions taking place.
"Drat!" William stomped his foot, obviously wanting to talk more about his villain.
Victoria was amazed at the man's gentleness with the boy. Something in her heart gave a little kick. He was polite, had a sense of humor, and was nice to children. He had been a different man the time she had seen him.
But what would he do if he knew she was the lady at the inn? Did he know already? She shuddered at the memory of those hard gray eyes glaring at her, demanding her cooperation. Would he ruin Phoebe's future?
Phoebe pulled her son aside. "Now, William, is that any way to talk to the man who is going to be your brother?"
William jumped with glee. "A pirate for a brother!"
Victoria sighed against the wall and frowned.
Brother.
How wonderfully dreadful. The reality of the situation cut into her heart like a guillotine.
If the duke ever discovered Victoria's past, he would most probably refuse to marry Aunt Phoebe. Her secret would be out, and all would be lost. Frowning, Victoria walked back to her room and plopped on her bed in the throes of defeat. Now she knew how the French felt at Waterloo.
She claimed a headache when she was asked to receive the visitor and could only stare in dread at the ceiling. Had she ruined her family's chance for happiness because of her impulsive actions? Did the pirate know her identity now? Would Aunt Phoebe end up in debtor's prison after all? No, the duke may not marry Phoebe, but he would not let that happen.
"Did you see him, Vicki?" William shouted as he opened her door and slammed it shut.
Victoria lifted her head from her pillow and dropped it again. "Yes, I saw him."
And he is going to ruin us all.
William hopped onto her mattress, jumping up and down. "He's wonderful!"
"Wonderful," she murmured, scooting off the bed.
"And did you see the villain, too?"
Victoria wrung her hands on her skirt and moved toward the window. "The pirate. Yes, I saw him."
"The most magnificent pirate in the whole world!" Bounce. Bounce. "But I asked if you saw the evil villain."
"The villain?" she asked without thinking. But she was more interested in the pirate exiting the townhouse and entering his awaiting carriage. There was something about him that stirred her blood, even though he was her enemy.
She pressed her hand against the window and lowered her gaze in anticipation. He peered up at her. It was so fast that Victoria barely realized what had happened. He had seen her!
Her body went rigid and she stepped back. She could still feel the heat of his gaze burning a path straight to her toes.
"What were you saying, William?"
"I said! Did ... you ... see ... the villain? Are you deaf from a cannonball to your head?" Bounce. Bounce.
"No, I did not see the villain."
"Yes, you did. He was in this very house." William stopped his bouncing. "He was. I saw him."
Victoria narrowed her eyes. Her cousin jumped to the floor and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the window. "There. In the carriage. That evil earl! You know, your cousin! Do you see him or not?" By now the boy was shouting in her ear.
Victoria peered out the window and recognized the black carriage that clattered down the street. The coat of arms was her father's. Wendover should have left the house an hour ago.
"The villain's mean, Vicki. Mean as a witch!"
Victoria tried not to show the terror that crawled along her skin. Before today, it had been a long time since she had seen the earl, and for the life of her, she could not figure out what he wanted. But whatever it was, she had a strange feeling he wanted something from her.
Drake relaxed in the carriage, his thoughts centered on the mahogany-haired siren who had eluded him for far too long. When he had entered the townhouse, he had smelled roses again, fresh as a spring day. Lady Victoria's scent.
Fox had mentioned Lady Phoebe's niece and her many attributes. Drake, of course, was curious himself, for more reasons than his friend would ever know. And now, it seemed very probable that Phoebe's Lady Victoria was the woman from the inn.
The thought of his father being swindled into a heartless marriage based on greed bothered him to no end. Though Lady Phoebe seemed all that was good, the female mind was sly and cunning, as he knew that all too well. He felt as if his hands were tied. Should he tell his father his secrets? But could he fulfill his promise to Nightham if he did?
Yet, it was only right that his father knew the truth. Tonight at the opera he would plan his attack well.
L
ater that evening Victoria stood in the duke's box, gazing down at the multitude of people filling the Opera House. A wave of perfume assaulted her senses while the rumble of voices lifted from the pit and the gallery below her. She leaned back, feeling a bit dizzy, having eaten nothing since breakfast.
"Lady Victoria," Lord Foxcroft called from beside her, "may I say, you look beautiful tonight, a diamond of the first waters."
Though a bit flustered by all the attention the viscount was lavishing on her, Victoria admitted to herself that she felt somewhat comforted by his presence, especially with Lord Wendover in attendance. "My lord, you are too generous in your flattery."
Then, as if it came naturally, Lord Foxcroft took her gloved hand in his and brought it to his lips as he offered her a seat.
"I cannot tell you how pleased I am that you accepted my invitation. I know you probably would have come as a guest of the duke, but this way, I have you all to myself."
Pleased? She wondered what would he think when he found out about her scandalous past?
She bit her bottom lip in despair, again peering over the crowd as if she were truly interested in what was happening in the minutes before the performance. She had never been the same after Nightham's death, and at that precise moment, she felt like a wretched fraud.
She exchanged a weak smile with Sarah who sat beside Lord James. The man had taken Sarah under his wing like an older brother. She wondered if the eldest brother would be as kind.
She turned to look at the duke. His intense gaze never left her aunt. He was a man in love, and the passion in his eyes told her he would marry as quickly as possible if Phoebe wanted it. Now, only to get Phoebe to agree to a special license and a swift marriage. The pirate could try to do his worst, but at least Phoebe would be married to her duke.
She looked over the crowd and shuddered inwardly at her predicament. Time was her enemy now.
When Drake's carriage rolled to the front of the theater, he snapped his pocket watch closed, climbed out of the vehicle, and moved purposely toward the stairs near his father's box. As he stood behind the curtain, he smiled, relishing the thought of taking Lady Victoria by surprise. What would she do? She certainly could not climb away from him this time.
He would tell all tonight. His father could not marry into such a family.
"It looks like we have the great Catalani singing for us tonight," Drake announced to everybody as his shiny gilt-buckled shoes plunged past the threshold of his father's box. His steely gaze found Fox sitting next to his prey.
Sarah turned, but Lady Victoria stared dead ahead, her back to him, as if she had not heard him enter. Drake smiled to himself. The little minx. There was no doubt that she was the woman from the inn.
He greeted his father, Lady Phoebe and her niece, James, Wendover, and left Fox and Lady Victoria for last. Even from the back, the lady was quite beautiful, but beauty would not save her now. He reminded himself about his dead wife and the pain that he endured from Honoria's disloyalty, especially her unseemly disregard for his money. His father deserved to know all.
Fox finally turned to him. "Drake, let me introduce you to Lady Victoria, niece to Lady Phoebe."
The duke and Lady Phoebe chattered on, oblivious to the tension in the box.
"Lady Victoria."
Drake took her hand and leaned over to peer into a pair of huge turquoise eyes.
She gave a slight curtsy. She knew exactly who he was. There was a challenge in her gaze as well as fear. "Good evening, my lord."
"Delighted." He gave her hand a slight squeeze and let it go. "Have we met somewhere before?"
Her lips parted in surprise.
She was more enchanting than he remembered. No wonder Nightham had gone mad. But it was the angry flash in those cerulean eyes that caused him notice. She was daring him to expose her. How very interesting.
"Met before?" Her voice was as sweet as honey.
Drake swallowed a laugh at her pluck and watched in silence as she flicked a glance toward her aunt, then toward Sarah. The instant those big blue eyes softened, Drake felt a slap to his heart. This woman cared deeply for her family, and she was afraid for
them,
not herself. Had he been wrong about her?
No, his mind whispered. She could not be that virtuous. Not a beauty with a heart. However, honor would not let him divulge her secret to his father without him knowing her ulterior motives.
"Drake, have a care." Fox stepped in and physically jerked Drake away from Victoria, showing the lady back to her seat.
Drake would have thought he imagined the glaring threat from his friend, but the lasting scowl on Fox's face confirmed the man's declaration of war.
Drake flashed a brilliant set of white teeth, turning Fox's face a fiery red.
Victoria felt ill. The staring continued between the two men and the uneasiness mounted. It seemed that besides the viscount and the marquess, only she and Sarah, to whom she had confirmed about the duke's eldest son being the intruder at the inn, were aware of the tension escalating in the box. Two silver gray eyes were embedded in her brain. There was no denying that the marquess had planned his attack well.
She knew without a doubt that Lord Drakefield had been about to unveil her entire escapade with Nightham, but something had stopped him. Had it been the viscount's presence, or something else?
She quickly turned to glance about the crowd. The noise seemed to lower to a murmur now, and all the faces seemed to blur. She felt herself growing warmer by the minute. The marquess was just behind her, staring at the viscount. She fanned her face as tears burned the back of her eyes. She was doomed. He was going to spill her secret and poor Phoebe would be devastated when she lost her duke.
A heavy pressure on her chest made it hard to breathe. But she would rather have it all out now, than wait like a frightened rabbit, burrowing in its hole, waiting for the kill.
Oh, the detestable, hateful man.
Sarah leaned over, her expression worried. "Would you like to walk out for some fresh air, dearest? Lord James would be only too happy to escort you outside."
James rose from his seat and whispered to his brother, "I hold you totally responsible for this evening, Drake. I should have known you had some dealings with Lady Victoria after so many questions this afternoon. You only have to look at the lady's pallor to know she might swoon at any moment. What hold do you have on her?"
Victoria heard the heated exchange and the blood rushed from her face. She cast an uneasy glance over her shoulder at Lord Foxcroft. She was not as brave as she thought. The marquess had won. "My lord," she said, giving the viscount a weak smile, "I fear I am not feeling well. Would you mind taking me home?"
Foxcroft frowned, taking hold of her arm. She swayed slightly in her seat.
"Oh, my." Phoebe grabbed the duke's arm. "Victoria. Why, she never has had a case of the vapors. She must be ill."
Perplexed at the odd turn of events, the suave-looking duke moved to Victoria's side. "My dear, let me help you."
By this time, even Wendover had offered her his arm. "Lady Victoria, lean on me."
Lord Foxcroft argued that it was his duty to take her outside. But Wendover insisted, he was her cousin, distant or not, and he ought to be the one to help her.
"Not likely," was the marquess's retort when he maneuvered his way to take hold of Victoria and spoke in Wendover's ear.
Victoria had no idea what was happening. All she knew was that her head was roaring something horrid, and she felt ill.
In no time, Drake had pushed the hovering gentlemen aside, including his father. He reached out and scooped Victoria into his arms. "I have her now. Make way, gentlemen. Make way." He pressed the woman's body close to his chest, grabbed his hat, and stepped out of the box as Foxcroft reluctantly gave up his spot.
Phoebe swayed. "Goodness gracious."
The duke's arms circled Lady Phoebe's waist, using the situation to his advantage. "Have no worry, my dear, she is in good hands with my son."
Lord Foxcroft took a menacing step forward. "Exactly. Good hands, indeed!"
Victoria sank back against the cold seat of the marquess's carriage and took a deep breath, forcing her gaze on the man entering beside her. The marquess looked at her in silence.
She lifted her chin, daring him to do his worst. Though his presence was overwhelming, there was also a strength about him that sent a tingling warmth to the pit of her stomach. But it was the mocking amusement in his silver gaze that sent her rage mounting. How dare he pull her from her family!
A biting silence filled the air, and her teeth began to clatter. She threw her hands around her shivering body, her thoughts scampering. He may hold power over her and her secrets, but she was furious at his high-handed behavior.
To her surprise, he whipped off his black jacket, placing it about her shoulders. When his fingers brushed her neck, the amusement died in his eyes, and his lips pressed together into a tight line. "You don't need to catch cold on top of everything else. My father would never forgive me if something happened to you. Neither would James or your aunt or your cousin."
He let out an amusing snort. "Or Fox. No, I suppose Fox would not be too pleased with me whatever happened to you."
He handed her the wool carriage blanket beneath the seat and positioned her feet over the hot bricks on the floorboard.
"Warmer?" he asked with a concern that Victoria did not expect.
"Quite," she replied with a shrug, avoiding his steadfast gaze. What was this man's game? Why did he not tell the duke of her flight? Was it because he wanted to keep Lord Nightham's name clear of any gossip? Or was it truly something else?
She wanted to hate him. He was overbearing, dictatorial, and positively the most arrogant man she had ever met. But when she peered up at him, the tenderness in his gaze shocked her.
She tilted her head away from him toward the window, her heart skipping a beat. "You may take me home now."
He said nothing, and she knew he was studying her. She glanced over her shoulder and faced him. "I wish to go home."
The corners of his lips lifted slightly. "That reddish tint in your hair seems to go well with your temper, my lady."
Her teeth rattled as she lifted her head higher. "You ... you are insufferable."
His reaction was to frown as he leaned toward her and tucked the blanket tighter around her. "Better?"
His touch was oddly sweet, sending a quivering through her veins.
But better?
Was he trying to suffocate her with his nearness? His overbearing manner, combined with his devilish good looks, sent her heart soaring into uncharted territory.
He glared at her, angling his chin toward her apparel. "If you had worn something a bit warmer, you might not be so chilled."
Her mouth dropped open in shock, just as he tapped the top of the carriage, stood up, said something to the driver, then sat down, pulling her to his side.
Victoria stiffened as his arm snaked firmly around her waist. "Oh, how dare you."
"I dare anything I want, especially when a lady is wearing my jacket."
"This ... this is insufferable, my lord."
He laughed, but he would not let her pull away. "I am not ready to tell your secrets just yet. So you may rest easy."