A Whisper of Desire (5 page)

If they had sisters, would they also think a match with him was not desirable?

Well, he'd prove them all wrong. If Marisa chose him, he was going to make her the happiest woman that walked this earth. He wondered what that would cost him.

Marisa could still hear Helen cursing under her breath as she stomped around Marisa's bedchamber. Finally Helen swung to face her.

“I'm going to spit on Rutherford the next time I see him. If I were a man, I'd call him out. I'm surprised Sebastian hasn't already done so.”

“It's difficult to do that when the said lady Rutherford has supposedly dishonored has been caught in bed with the Duke of Lyttleton.”

Helen sighed. “I suppose.” Then she looked at Marisa and said, “But still.” She sat down on the bed and said, “This love business is scary. How are you to ever know if what a man professes is true?”

Marisa turned back to the mirror and continued to brush her hair. She'd been thinking that exact thought. Prior to her brother's marriage, Marisa had not wanted to fall in love. Her parents had fallen madly in love as youngsters and married. When the love died, petty jealousies and attention-seeking tactics saw her parents fighting each other like two rampaging bulls. Each had taken a lover, trying to hurt the other.

If that was love, she'd wanted nothing of it. It was only seeing Sebastian's and Beatrice's love for each other that made Marisa realize her parents hadn't loved each other at all. It had merely been attraction. Once that had worn off, they didn't even like each other.

Rutherford had lied and she'd fallen for it. Her confidence was shattered. How could she trust any man again?

“So, what are you going to do? Weather the scandal or marry Lyttleton? Sebastian says you have to make a decision by dinner, because the scandal is the talk of the
ton
already.”

Marisa put the brush down and looked into the mirror. She was only twenty. She could weather the storm for a few years and then try to find love. She knew it would take a special man to fall in love with a fallen wanton who was known to have slipped into a duke's bed. Still, it would appear it was hard enough finding a man to love her when she was the belle of the ball. Now that her reputation was tainted, it would be even harder.

Could she risk going through the humiliation of being fooled again? It would seem her dowry was a bigger prize than her heart, and that stung.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to imagine what it would be like to be no longer welcome anywhere respectable.

“His Grace is quite handsome, even if he is a bit of a cold fish.”

Her eyes flew open and found Helen's in the mirror. She didn't think the duke was cold. The kiss in the ballroom had scorched heat, and in the bedroom…Her heart beat a bit faster. He was also kinder and gentler than she would have thought.

“He is—nice.”

Helen's face fell. “Nice. Oh, that's disappointing. I'd hoped you felt some kind of attraction to His Grace.”

She swiveled round on her chair, facing Helen. “I haven't really
noticed
him before. I know he's visited our house many, many times, and we've had Christmas celebrations at his estate, but he was always Sebastian's distant and aloof friend.”

Helen shrugged. “He's very clever. A genius with numbers, so I have heard. I know he is a formidable gambler and that Sebastian uses him for all his investment decisions.”

“You know more about the man than I.”

“I'm quiet too. I notice those similar to me. People like you are too caught up with the gaiety.”

Marisa's eyes opened wide. “Are you calling me shallow? You
are.
” She turned back to the mirror and looked at herself. Helen could be right. She was so caught up in being the most sought-after debutante, she'd not really taken the time to study those around her. She shivered in the afternoon heat. She'd never make that mistake again.

“I didn't mean it as a fault, Marisa. We are all different. You are a vivacious person. Just by smiling, you make the room light up when you enter, and you always know what to say to put everyone at ease. That's a gift.” Helen smiled at her and she smiled back.

“Perhaps I should stop trying to be the center of attention and take more notice of those around me.”

“He fooled everyone, even Sebastian,” her sister replied.

She nodded thoughtfully. It made her doubt what she knew about Maitland. She thought him nice, but she'd really spent only one day with him. He was Sebastian's friend, though.

She wanted to have a closer look at Maitland. Everything he'd done over the last twenty-four hours had been to protect her. He had not lied to her, threatened her; he did, she thought, with warmth flooding her cheeks, try to seduce her. He'd been more a friend to her tonight than Rutherford ever had.

“I think I'm going to marry Maitland.”

Helen gasped. “Are you sure? He is definitely not like you in personality.”

Marisa loved Helen so much, she didn't care that many thought Helen was only her half sister, a product of one of her mother's affairs. “True. He's more like you, and you and I get along famously.”

Helen laughed. “That can't be the only reason. Are you thinking of Sebastian and the scandal?”

“Nothing so honorable, I'm afraid.” Marisa shook her head and let her tears fall. “I can't be shunned. I can't bear to have everyone sneering and thinking ill of me. I guess I'm a coward.”

Helen came and hugged her. “No, my sweet. You're simply focused on self-preservation, as anyone in your situation would be. Maitland is nice. He's handsome and rich, and you'll be a duchess. Most young ladies would sell their best jewels to receive an offer from His Grace.”

“I think he's lonely. I like him, even though I've really only known him for a day. It's just I have this hunger in my soul for more. I want what Sebastian and Beatrice share.”

“We can't always get what we want, can we?”

Marisa looked at Helen. “I know you are in love with Lord Fullerton,” she said softly, as she squeezed Helen's hand.

Helen nodded. “He doesn't even know I exist.”

Marisa brushed a curl off Helen's face. “When you're a bit older, he will. You're so beautiful.”

“It might be too late. He might meet someone else.”

“Then perhaps it isn't meant to be. Maybe there is a young man out there who is searching for a woman just like you.”

Helen brushed a tear off her face. “Aren't we a pair? In love with men who don't love us.” She stood and helped Marisa clasp the pearl necklace round her neck. “I think you'll make a beautiful, kind duchess.”

Marisa hugged her close before making her way to Sebastian's study. Her stomach was full of butterflies. She wasn't only nervous. She was excited too. Maitland was a conundrum she planned on solving if she was to be married to him for the rest of her life.

She stopped at the study door to gather her composure. It wasn't every day a young lady became a duchess. The idea of her new station gave her courage. She knocked firmly and entered.

To her surprise, Maitland was present. The two men rose and Maitland moved forward to greet her. He bowed over her hand. “How are you holding up?” he asked.

She gave him a warm smile, suddenly wanting to see the lines of worry round his eyes ease. “I'm fine,” she said, and she rather surprised herself by pressing a kiss to his cheek. When she looked across the desk at her brother, he was beaming.

Maitland held out a chair for her, and she sat. “I have almost made my decision.”

Sebastian's smile faltered. “Almost?”

She turned to Maitland, who had retaken his seat. “Do
you
have a mistress?”

“Marisa, really.”

She turned on her brother. “Since I have to settle for a marriage not of my choosing, I would like to know I'm not being made a fool of once again.” She looked at Maitland and watched his eyes. How did one tell if someone was lying?

Maitland cleared his throat. “I do not have a mistress, I've never had a mistress, and if you do me the honor of becoming my duchess, I swear I shall not avail myself of one in the future.”

Last night he'd promised he'd never lie to her, but for all she knew, that was a lie. She had never been a suspicious person before. A curse on Rutherford. He'd not only broken her heart, he'd destroyed her faith in taking a person's word.

Everyone lied; she knew that, for she too lied. Usually to spare someone's feelings, saying a lady's hat was gorgeous when really it looked like a dead bird had landed on her head.

Lord Rutherford had stripped her of trust. He'd taught her that people lied for their own personal gain. Yet if anyone had something to gain from a marriage with His Grace, it was she. Maitland had no need to lie to her. His offer of marriage would save her from societal banishment and scorn.

“In that case, I accept your honorable proposal of marriage.” She quickly prayed that she would not be disappointed by the coward's choice she made. She straightened her back. She now owed it to His Grace to become the best wife she could possibly be. She knew it was their enemy's fault they were in this predicament.

The look of relief on Sebastian's face dampened her anger. “If you'd allow it, there is one more thing I'd like. Now that I will become a married woman, I expect to be party to the hunt. I want to catch the bitch who has destroyed my life.”

Beatrice had escorted Marisa upstairs to get ready. The bishop was on the way and Maitland had the special license in his pocket. They would be married in the drawing room with only Sebastian's family present. He would have liked Priscilla, his stepmother, to be here, but due to the persistent rumors surrounding her marriage to his father, she rarely left his estate. Not all of the Libertine Scholars would be present either. With Christian and Grayson still in Dorset, that left only Arend and Hadley to stand with him. Sebastian would be giving Marisa away.

Maitland had sent the two men each a missive informing them of the situation, and he expected them to be here shortly.

He was nervous about taking a wife. He was going to have to be far more disciplined than normal. He'd never slept with the same woman twice, and if he were to have a son, he would likely have to sleep with Marisa more than once. What if the villainess understood the darkness in him and knew it would be his punishment to have to marry Sebastian's sister? If he lost control and let his darker desires free, he'd likely hurt Marisa, which would hurt Sebastian and could very well destroy the Libertine Scholars' friendship. They would fight each other.

Once again an innocent, Marisa was the one who would pay the price.

Just then Sebastian's butler announced Arend and Hadley.

Hadley was full of smiles, while Arend looked broody.

“Congratulations, Maitland. I know it's not the way you'd want to choose a wife, but she's a wonderful young woman.”

“Thank you, Hadley. Nothing to say, Arend?”

He watched Arend shrug as he took a seat on the day bed near the window. “If you are happy, then what is there to say, except I want to catch De Palma so badly before she ruins our lives.”

“Are you implying my life is ruined, because I take offense to that. I'm quite happy with this outcome.”

Arend looked directly into his eyes. “I wasn't referring to you. Sebastian must be struggling to come to terms with Marisa marrying you.”

Maitland felt the bonds of brotherhood slipping. “Do both of you think I'm not good enough for Marisa?”

“Of course not,” Hadley stated. “I think what Arend is inferring is that we are sad Marisa has had her life affected because of us.”

Arend swore. “That's what I'm angry about. The bitch can mess with us; we can take care of ourselves. But a young girl, or girls? Look what she did to Portia. If Grayson hadn't got to her, she'd still be in that harem.”

“I'm angry that Marisa has had choices taken from her too. As long as that is all it is.” Maitland raised his eyebrow at Arend. “Sebastian doesn't think we can make each other happy.”

“It doesn't matter what my brother thinks. I
know
we will be happy.” None of the men had heard the door open. Maitland felt as if he were a hundred feet tall upon hearing Marisa's words. She crossed to his side and slipped her hand in his. For someone who prided himself on not getting emotional, he was choked up inside.

Arend suddenly grinned, and he crossed the room to hug Marisa. “If you're happy, then it eases some of my guilt.”

“You have nothing to be guilty about.” Marisa looked round the room at each of them, men she'd known most of her life. “None of you do. Nevertheless, I must admit I'd like this situation to be over. Have you any leads?”

“Any luck with Angelo?” Maitland asked Arend.

Angelo was a brothel owner who may know the identity of De Palma. To their frustration he was being reticent in providing Arend with a name or any other information.

Arend looked thoughtfully at Marisa. Maitland simply pulled her closer and said, “I have agreed to let her help capture the villainess. Her life has been impacted too.”

Arend cleared his throat. “Perhaps we can discuss this after the wedding.”

“We have to wait for the bishop, so let's talk now.” Marisa seemed very determined.

“I have a plan that might get Angelo to give us the information we need. It hinges on you, Maitland.” No one said anything to that, so Arend continued. “I think we should bring Angelo to his knees financially by beating the house, and Maitland with his skill at cards is the man to do it.”

“I'm happy to give it a try, but why would Angelo let me into his club? Won't he be suspicious?”

Just then Sebastian arrived with Beatrice, Marisa's Aunt Alison, and Helen. Little Henry, Sebastian and Beatrice's adopted son, was too young to be present. Talk of card games dissolved into chatter about how beautiful Marisa looked. The room was soon abuzz with talk of the marriage vows, and Maitland was relieved to see how comfortable Marisa was with her situation.

The bishop didn't seem to mind the hastiness of the marriage. It never ceased to amaze Maitland how the church overlooked many sins when generous donations were on hand. The service was over quickly, and under the circumstances, the little emotion in the ceremony made the impact of what was occurring surreal.

He was getting
married.

On the words “husband and wife,” Sebastian shook Maitland's hand warmly and welcomed him to his family, and all animosity between them slid away. His new brother-in-law opened champagne for the women and a bottle of his finest whiskey for the men, and over a joyful meal they toasted to new beginnings.

Later, as the night sky darkened, Maitland approached Marisa, hesitant to interrupt. She stood, quietly talking with Helen. “It's time to go, little one. I'll leave you to say your goodbyes and meet you by the front door.”

Sebastian followed him out of the room. He looked back to see the two girls hugging each other, hiding tears at being parted for the first time. Beatrice joined them, and something she said made them smile and wipe away the tears.

He waited for his wife—
his wife.
His hands trembled, and he almost dropped his gloves and hat, which the doorman had just passed to him.

Sebastian settled an arm around his shoulders and steered him to a private spot near the door. “Who would have believed my best friend—as close as any brother—is in fact now my brother-in-law. You will be kind to her? Marisa has had her dreams shattered. I know you think you know her, but in reality you are both strangers who have simply been in each other's company recently. Don't expect too much of her tonight.”

Maitland understood Sebastian's brotherly concern. “I'm not going to pounce on her the minute I have her alone. I do have some finesse in this area, although not as much as you.” Sebastian's worried face did not alter at his words. “Look, we are both exhausted after last night's ordeal. I shall simply see her settled into her rooms tonight.”

“Thank you.” The tight clasp of Sebastian's arm disappeared and Maitland stuck out his hand and Sebastian took it. They shook for longer than normal, and both ended up clearing their throats.

Maitland reassured his friend. “This marriage is for a lifetime. I'm more than content to wait until Marisa feels comfortable sharing my bed.”

“That's more than I needed to know.”

“But that is what you are worried about, isn't it?” he asked. “Her sharing a virtual stranger's bed.”

“Sometimes I wish you weren't so direct.” Sebastian patted him on his back. “Usually I'd be teasing you about the night to come, but I'd rather not think about it.”

Maitland nodded. “I'll cherish her for the rest of my life. I give you my word.”

“And I'll hold you to it.”

Just as Sebastian issued his warning, Marisa, accompanied by Beatrice and a weepy-looking Helen, joined them at the door.

Maitland held out his arm and Marisa didn't hesitate, slipping her hand through, linking them as they were now linked in marriage.

Her family broke society rules and waved goodbye from the top step as his carriage drove off. Maitland saw Beatrice consoling Helen.

“Your sister will miss you,” he said quietly. “She is welcome in our home whenever she likes.”

“Thank you. We have never been apart before. What of your sisters? Will they be at Kenwood House? I must confess surprise that I have never met them.”

He shook his head. “No, little one. 'Tis no surprise. They have never been to London and you have never visited my estate. They are too young. Their mother, my stepmother, Priscilla, prefers to stay at my estate in Hampshire. There is Antonia, who is the eldest at almost twelve years of age, she is my stepsister, and Penelope, my half sister, has just turned ten.” He took her hand and pressed it to his lips. “So, for the foreseeable future, we have the house to ourselves.”

He noted that the idea of being alone with him saw Marisa's smile waver between anxiety and pleasure.

As the chaise drew to a halt outside his large townhouse, Marisa looked out of the window and he felt her stiffen next to him.

“My goodness, it never really occurred to me, I'm a duchess. I'll have to run your households.”

He nodded and shifted his gaze to the house. “You will find my various houses, there are five in total, are run well, and will not be a difficult task. They know what I expect. The staff knows how I wish my houses to function. Everything is orderly and I have precise requirements. When in residence, I always breakfast at nine, luncheon is over by two, and dinner is promptly at eight.”

She didn't appear to have heard him. “It's much bigger than Sebastian's house. Houses? How big is your estate?” Her hand splayed on the carriage window, as if trying to block the house from her view.

“I forget that you have not been to The Vyne in Hampshire. My estate is rather immense, actually. The family seat was built in the sixteenth century, and you could get lost for days in the various wings. It has a Tudor chapel, a rather large summerhouse, and a lake too. It's beautiful. I look forward to showing it to you.”

He was about to open the door when Marisa pulled at his arm. “But we stay in London until we have caught this woman? Arend mentioned you're needed. I want her caught sooner rather than later. I don't want her doing anything to Helen. I would hate my sister to have to face my fate.”

This time it was he who stiffened. She immediately apologized. “That did not come out properly.” Her hand tightened on his arm. “I'm sorry, I just mean I want her to have choices.”

At her apology, a bad humor descended upon him, and he didn't understand why. Marisa was right. This marriage was not of her choosing. “We're both tired. Let us retire for the night and we can discuss our way forward once we are both refreshed in the morning.”

Brunton, Maitland's longtime butler, was the first to greet them, bowing respectfully as Maitland escorted his wife through the front door.

“Your Grace, welcome to Kenwood House. I hope you will find all at Kenwood to your satisfaction.”

She gave Brunton one of her dazzling smiles, and Maitland saw Brunton immediately fall under Marisa's spell. “I'm quite certain the house will be immaculate and the staff all consideration.”

“As the evening is late and I knew you would be tired”—Brunton stole an anxious look at Maitland—“I suggested Her Grace might like to wait to meet the staff until the morning.”

“Thank you, Brunton, an excellent idea.”

As Marisa removed her bonnet, he watched her admiring the opulence of his home. He took pride in his homes. Like everything he undertook, he expected not perfection but precision. Everything functioned in his home and there was a reason for every item.

Marisa did a slow pirouette in the foyer. “Gas lighting, very modern.”

“Far more efficient and easy to use than candles or lamps. You don't have to carry anything anywhere.” He indicated she should precede him upstairs. “Brunton, have a bath drawn for Her Grace.” He addressed his wife. “By the time you've finished, your trunks should be unpacked. Would you like a light supper afterward in your rooms?”

She shook her head as she walked up the stairs in front of him. She appeared nervous, her fingers fiddling with her gown, something he noted she often did when anxious. They had not discussed sleeping arrangements in the carriage, and he realized the closer they got to his rooms the more nervous she became.

What had she been thinking, agreeing to marry a man she didn't really know? As she climbed the stairs she felt his eyes upon her. Soon he would see even more of her. He now had the right to do whatever he wished to her, with her…

Her mind cast back to last night and seeing him lying half naked in that bed. He had been quite beautiful to look at, but the idea of lying naked next to him, letting him touch her, kiss her…She wasn't ready. It was too soon.

They reached the landing and suddenly panic had her struggling to breathe. She stopped and tried to draw in deep breaths.

“Are you all right, Marisa?” her
husband
asked.

Struggling for composure, she said, “I don't know where to go.”

He came up beside her and took her hand from where it fidgeted with her dress, and pushed gently past her to lead her down a gaslit corridor with inspirational artwork along the walls. She noted the walls contained no family portraits.

Soon they came to a room where the door was open, and she saw a man inside folding cravats into a tallboy. What immediately drew her eye was the massive four-poster bed dominating what was a masculine room, obviously Maitland's bedchamber. It reminded her of Sebastian's bedchamber.

She suspected, as with her brother's marriage, Maitland would expect her to share his bed. Beatrice rarely, if ever, was known to sleep in her room.

This is where her husband would take her and make her his wife.

She briefly closed her eyes. She was
not
ready. To her relief, they didn't stop but continued on to the next room, the door of which was open too. The room was the opposite of his room, all floral and soft feminine pinks and reds. Not quite to her taste, but not so overwhelming as Maitland's room.