MISTRESS TO THE MARQUIS (20 page)

‘Alice, you did not really think to escape me so easily, did you?’ Razeby whispered into her ear as he steered them both to be swallowed up by the surrounding crowd. She tried to turn, but his grip was unyielding. She could do nothing other than go where he directed her, away from the dance floor, threading a path through the close-packed bodies out into the crowded hallway where he pushed her against the recess of a wall and, shielding her with his body, unfastened the ties of her domino. The expensive red silk slipped to land on the floor by her feet.

‘What are doing? You can’t just—’

‘I thought you did not like red, Alice.’

‘You know I don’t, but—’

He unfastened his own domino and swept it around her shoulders, enveloping every inch of the indecent scarlet dress in which Hawick had dressed her with the black silk. For a moment she yielded to her instinct, snuggling into his domino, breathing in the scent of him, before common sense reasserted itself. Razeby stepped closer still, until his body was hard against hers and her face touched against the lapels of his black evening tailcoat.

‘What are you—?’

But his fingers were untying the red mask that hid her face. Throwing it to the floor as if it were a piece of worthless tat.

She gasped and had to crick her neck to stare up into his face. ‘Would you reveal me to all of London that is here? Have mercy on me, for pity’s sake, Razeby, I beg of you.’

‘I have told you before, Alice, that when it comes to you, I have no mercy.’ His voice was hard, but from his pocket he produced a plain black Venetian mask and tied it where the red mask had been.

‘Razeby...’ She hated to say the words, but knew that she must tell him, now, before any more harm was done. ‘I’m with Hawick now.’

‘Are you? I do not see Hawick out here.’ He smiled, but it was a chilling smile, a dangerous smile. ‘Besides, I want to talk to you, Alice.’ And the quiet, determined, angry way he said it stroked a shiver all the way down her spine. ‘Shall we go somewhere a little quieter?’

He took hold of her arm, in a grip that was firm but unbreakable, and led her up the staircase towards the upper floor. Behind them the crowd closed and the scarlet domino and mask were trampled underfoot.

Upstairs he drew her into one of the dark shadowy private rooms that led off the main floor. Beside the brightness of all the candles and crystal of the ballroom and hallway the room seemed to be in blackness. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust enough to see the soft flood of moonlight that glowed through the window.

‘You’re marrying Miss Darrington on Tuesday. I’m Hawick’s mistress. What more is there to say between us?’ She tried to make her voice sound as if she did not care, but it was impossible. It hurt to look him in the eyes, knowing the truth of what she had done to him and the truth of their child within her belly. But she could not look away.

‘What more indeed?’ he said quietly and behind the mask his eyes looked blacker than Linwood’s. ‘How about the truth, Alice?’

Her heart gave a stutter. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Shall we start with this?’ From inside his tailcoat he produced some sheets of paper folded over.

Oh, God!
She knew what they were before he opened them up and showed her. She dropped her gaze, biting at her lip and feeling the shame scald her cheeks.

‘You said that you did not love me. But...’ He had found the sheets on which she had written both their names together a hundred times or more.

‘Idle scribbles,’ she murmured and could not look at him.

‘I do not think so, Alice.’

‘I have to go. Hawick will have noticed I’m missing.’

‘You are not going anywhere.’ He stepped closer, backing her against the wall, catching hold of both her wrists and securing them behind her back. ‘There is another matter of which you have been remiss in telling me.’ He held both her wrists in one hand, leaving the other free to brush gently against her lips.

Her breathing grew heavy. She was too conscious of his touch, of his body so near to hers, of the dangerous quiet control that barely leashed the force of his anger.

He trailed his fingers slowly over her chin, traced them down over the column of her throat.

‘Please, Razeby,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t do this.’

But the dark eyes just glittered dangerously behind the mask. ‘Why not?’

‘You know why not!’ she cried, her voice hoarse with emotion.

His fingers trailed against her collar bones, then lower over her
décolletage,
tantalisingly close to her breasts, so pale and barely concealed by the blood red of the dress. ‘Because of what is in here?’

She gasped and arched as he slid his fingers beneath the bodice to cover her heart. Beneath the dress she wore no shift, no underclothes of any description. He stroked gently against the aroused peak of her nipple, before capturing the fullness of her breast, making her heart thrill and thud to his touch.

In one smooth movement he had ripped the bodice of the dress open, the tear of silk a hiss in the silence between them. Her breath grew ragged as his hand explored lower, over her rib cage, over her stomach, sliding tortuously, slowly, to her abdomen where it rested flat against her skin and what lay beneath. He could not know, she told herself.

But Razeby lowered his voice and looked directly into her eyes. ‘Or what is in here?’ he said.

Chapter Twenty-Two

A
lice closed her eyes against the accusation she saw on Razeby’s face.

‘Venetia told you,’ she whispered.

‘Not Venetia,’ he corrected. ‘Her lips were sealed, on that secret at least.’

‘Then how...?’ She opened her eyes and looked at him.

‘It does not matter,’ he said harshly. ‘What does matter is why the hell you did not come to me? You are carrying our child, Alice. Did you honestly think I would have turned you away?’

‘You don’t understand...’

‘Damn right, I do not understand!’ he snapped. ‘Were you even going to tell me? Or perhaps you were planning on cuckolding Hawick?’ He stared down into her eyes with a ruthless and tightly coiled rage she had never seen there before.

‘No!’ she cried, horrified at the suggestion. ‘How could you think I’d do such a thing?’

‘I wonder,’ he said.

She caught her breath as the words cut her, but she knew she deserved his wrath. After what she had made him believe of her, she could not blame him for thinking so badly of her.

‘Hawick would have to be a complete fool to believe the babe his, when I’m two months gone and haven’t even slept with him.’

‘You have not slept with him? How have you managed to avoid it when you have been with him for a week?’

She sagged back against the wall. ‘The oldest excuse in the book.’

‘How ironic.’

She said nothing, just averted her gaze to a distance beyond him.

He removed his hand from where it lay warm and flat and possessive against her belly. The chill of the night air against her naked skin made her feel its loss all the more. Capturing her chin between his fingers, he brought her face round, forcing her to meet the full raze of his gaze.

‘What did you think he would do, Alice, when he discovered you were carrying my baby? Keep you on as his mistress? Claim my child as his own?’

‘Stop it!’ she cried. ‘He would have turned me off without a farthing more.’

‘And yet you went to Hawick knowing that, rather than come to me,’ he said in a hard voice.

‘I never went to Hawick. He came to me. I’ve nothing else I can do to earn a living.’

‘You are an actress.’

‘The theatres are closed for the holidays, Razeby. I’ve not a penny to my name. Do you think I’d be selling myself to Hawick were there any other way? I can’t read and write. I can’t write entries in a cash book or receipts for customers. I can’t sew or sing or dance. Without a character they’ll not take me in a shop or a workshop or in service. And I won’t ruin Venetia’s chances of happiness in her new life. What else could I do?’

‘You could have come to me,’ he said harshly.

‘When I had worked so hard to make you believe me a cold heartless whore who had used you for your money and was moving on to the next man who could offer her more?’ She stared at him incredulously. ‘I couldn’t come to you. What sort of man would leave his child to be raised by a woman like that?’

‘You thought I would take the child from you to raise myself.’ His voice sounded suddenly weary. He rubbed a hand against his forehead as if it ached there and glanced away.

She nodded. ‘Wouldn’t you have?’

‘It would never have come to that.’

‘Why not? Don’t you want the child?’

‘Oh, I want the child, all right. But you see, I want you, too, Alice.’

‘Even after I made you believe...’ She let the words peter out, realising just how much she had admitted.

He smiled a hard smile. ‘You admit that you lied to me.’

She swallowed and tried to look away, but he held her chin and would not let her.

‘You love me.’

She pressed her lips together to stop them from trembling. It had gone too far for lies. He knew too much. He knew the truth of her. He knew of the baby. She closed her eyes to stop the tears, but they leaked out just the same.

His breath was a caress against her cheek. She felt his lips brush against her mouth, her cheek, her ear. ‘Answer me, Alice,’ he demanded.

She opened her eyes and looked into his, ‘Of course I love you, Razeby. I’ve always loved you. Why else did I refuse to marry you?’

‘You were trying to save me from myself. It was my initial gut instinct to your refusal. I should have listened to it.’

‘I couldn’t let you give up the Razeby estate and title, all that you had worked so hard for, your birthright, your heritage. It’s your duty, your destiny. Razeby needs you. You would have regretted it for the rest of your life.’

‘What is left of it,’ he murmured beneath his breath. Then more loudly, his voice still harsh, ‘You were right, Alice. It would have been a mistake to turn my back on Razeby and my duty. If a man does not retain his integrity, he ceases to be much of a man. I will not dishonour either Razeby or myself.’

She nodded and her heart ached even as she smiled her approval and understanding.

‘So I suppose I should thank you for breaking my heart and putting me through sheer hell.’

‘If it’s any consolation, I broke my own in doing so.’

‘I do not doubt it.’

They looked at one another through the moonlight.

‘We have much to discuss, Alice. But not here. I am taking you home to Hart Street.’

‘We can’t!’

He arched an eyebrow and the dark dangerous look in his eyes made her shiver. ‘I will brook no refusal.’

‘What about Hawick?’

‘Do you want me to kill him?’ he asked softly.

‘No!’ The word shot from her mouth because she did not know whether he was serious or in jest. ‘He could sue, and the last thing you need is a scandal.’

‘Do not worry, I will sort matters with Hawick.’ He brushed his lips against hers, as if sealing a promise, and only then released her bound wrists.

Wrapping his domino more tightly around her to cover her semi-nakedness, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her down the stairs, through the crowded hallway and out into the night.

* * *

The house in Hart Street was exactly as she had left it. In every detail. All the servants were still in place. There were flowers in the hallway vase. Lamps were aglow.

It felt cosy and warm and safe. As if she had never left.

He took her straight upstairs and into the bedchamber, kicking the door shut behind him, before setting her down on her feet.

A small fire burned on the hearth, casting their shadows to dance upon the walls.

What had happened between them the last time they were in this room seemed a lifetime ago.

‘Take off that dress.’ She saw the way his expression hardened when he looked at the remains of the dress that still hung on her body.

She stripped it off, letting it fall on the floor around her ankles like the blood of her shame.

‘I couldn’t tell him of Miss Rouge. He didn’t understand when I said I didn’t like red.’ She stared at the dress, remembering the horror of everything that it represented for her and wondering if she would have been able to go through with it tonight with Hawick, had Razeby not saved her.

She let the silk fall away and stood there naked. Razeby’s glance held hers, then he lifted the dress from where it lay and, taking her hand in his, led her to the fireplace.

He passed her the crumple of red silk and she threw it into the flames. Hand in hand they stood there and watched it burn, watched in silence until it curled and blackened and crumbled away to ash.

Turning to him, she looked up into his face. The tears were spilling from her eyes to roll down her cheeks, but they were tears of love and relief, tears of what just being with him at this moment meant. ‘I don’t know why I’m crying. I hardly cried all my life. And now I just can’t seem to stop. I’ve turned into a watering can.’

He smiled and gently kissed away her tears.

He did not say a word. Just stripped off all of his clothes until he stood naked before her. Her man. Her lover. The father of the child that grew within her. A child made of their love. He was so tall and strong and handsome...so beloved.

She reached out her hand and laid it against his heart, feeling the rhythm of its strong steady beat. He captured her fingers, placed a kiss in the very centre of her palm that had lain against his heart. There was no need for words.

He carried her to the bed. And he made love to her. And she made love to him. And it was the gentlest, most moving moment of her whole life. A merging of hearts and souls. An acknowledgement of a love that defied all. And afterwards he held her in his arms and looked deep into her eyes. He said nothing in all those minutes. Just studied her.

His own eyes looked dark and serious in the amber glow of the firelight.

‘You do know that I am not going to let you go, Alice?’

She smiled at that, but there was a sadness in her heart. ‘You are marrying Miss Darrington on Tuesday.’

‘How can I marry Miss Darrington when I love you and you love me, and...’ his gaze dropped to her belly ‘...you are carrying our child?’

She swallowed. ‘Are you asking me to be your mistress?’

‘Not my mistress. And not asking.’

Her eyes widened as his meaning hit home. ‘We can’t marry, Razeby!’

‘We can’t not, Alice.’

She stared at him.

‘What would you not give to protect the babe in your belly from hardship and censure and danger? What would you not give to ease his way in a difficult world?’

‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘I would give my all.’

‘And so, too, would I, Alice.’

She could feel their hearts beat in unison, hear the soft sound of their breath as they lay there.

‘Would you have our child bear the label of bastard? Would you deny him the protection of my name, my wealth, my rank? Or our son his birthright, to accede to Razeby and inherit all that he is due?’

Her heart swelled with the enormity of what he was saying, what he was offering. She stared into his eyes, knowing he was right. ‘No,’ she said softly. ‘I would not.’

‘The child changes everything, Alice,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Yes, he does.’

Their eyes held, locked in such tenderness.

He smiled. ‘You do know you are going to have to marry me?’

She smiled, too. ‘I suppose that I do.’ But the tears began to spill again, tears of happiness and of joy.

He reached out and wiped each precious one away. ‘Console yourself, my love.’ A teasing light shone in his eyes. ‘I am a marquis, wealthy, good looking and great in bed—or so I once was told.’ He smiled with that wicked gleam that made her heart bloom.

‘Stop it, you wicked man!’

They smiled together.

But as he looked into her eyes the teasing faded away. His gaze was soft but serious. Very gently he brushed a tender kiss against her lips. ‘You are my love. You will be my wife and the mother of my child. And as such, there is something that you need to know, Alice. Something I probably should have told you a long time ago.’

A shadow moved in the depths of his eyes, and her heart tightened and she knew that something bad was coming, before he stoked her cheek one final time, before he moved away to sit naked on the edge of the bed.

* * *

How did a man tell the woman he loved such a thing? He did not know the words to say. They had been hidden for a lifetime, never spoken to another soul. Every single one that came to his tongue seemed clumsy and inadequate. He raked a hand through his hair and felt the dread seep through his blood. He took a deep breath.

Alice seemed to understand, for she rose and came to sit on the edge of the bed by his side and took his hand within her own.

‘Start at the beginning, Razeby,’ she said. She was so calm.

He nodded and did as she instructed. ‘I was seven years old when my father’s final illness claimed his life. He knew he was dying. On that last day he sent my mother away and bade me sit with him. The doctors had dosed him with so much laudanum, but he was still in pain.’

Alice did not rush him. She did not question. She was just there beside him, with him, and it was enough.

‘He told me that my grandfather had died at thirty years of age. That he, too, was dying at thirty. That a weakness of the lungs runs in the men of our family. That it was some sort of curse from which we could not escape.’

Razeby closed his eyes at the memory. He saw his father frail and wasted in that dim-lit room and heard again that laboured and breathless voice. ‘Marry and breed before you are thirty. Marry and breed an heir before it is too late.’
Razeby spoke those same words aloud.

For Razeby and its future. Do you understand, James?

In his mind he saw the boy who had stood there and answered,
I understand, Father.

‘I held his hand and watched him die.’

‘Razeby,’ she whispered and her fingers warmed the chill from his own. ‘That is much for a boy of seven to bear.’

He swallowed and turned his gaze to meet hers. ‘I will be thirty in four months, Alice.’

It took a moment before the realisation crossed her face. ‘You have lived your whole life believing that you will die at thirty,’ she said slowly.

‘It sounds ridiculous now I come to say it out loud.’

‘You were seven years old, Razeby. It’s only natural for a boy to believe his father’s words and take them to his heart. Even a father who was dosed high on laudanum.’

Her words made him see it in a different way. When he looked back he saw how disturbed his father must have been by the drug and the prospect of his imminent death. ‘They never left my heart. Beneath their shadow I sought hedonism and thrills and pleasure. I had a plan, you see, of exactly when to undertake that last task of duty.’ He paused. ‘And then I met you.’ He threaded his fingers through hers. ‘And I did not want to give you up. You changed everything. You changed me. I fell in love.’

She smiled and brought his fingers to her mouth and kissed them.

‘It is why I did not ask you to marry me. I would have done it in a heartbeat, but we both know that the same people who love you as Miss Sweetly will despise you as the Marchioness of Razeby. I could not subject you to that cruelty, knowing I would not be here to protect you. But the baby changes everything.’