Rules of Passion (6 page)

Someone had used a great deal of force to strike Max—maybe they had even hoped to kill him rather than just incapacitate him. When Marietta suggested this to Dobson, he replied that some men didn’t care who they hurt. His coolness about the matter made her think he had known many such men.

“I hope the doctor comes soon,” Marietta said. “The bleeding has stopped, and the wound is clean, but I don’t know what I should do next. It is quite deep, and I think it will need to be held together, to allow it to heal properly.”

“He needs sewing up,” Dobson replied, casting his expert eye over her efforts. “Best if we let the leech do that, miss.”

Relieved Marietta agreed. “Will it leave a scar, do you think?” she said, speaking her thoughts aloud. “Lord Roseby is a handsome man and it would be a pity to spoil his looks.”

Dobson raised an eyebrow at her.

She felt her color rising and her voice took on a justifying note. “I’m thinking of Lord Roseby, of course.”

“Of course. I doubt it’ll scar if the job’s done proper. Besides, some women like a man with a scar or two. Shows he’s been out in the world a bit.”

Marietta tried to imagine Max with a scar, apart from the one he already had on his chin, which was barely noticeable. She touched his hair, gently brushing it away from the wound. He made no sound. Although his chest was rising and falling quite normally he was dreadfully pale; his lashes lay like dark crescents upon his cheeks. He didn’t look like the man in the balloon, or the Max who had made her quiver as he inspected her palm. He looked helpless and vulnerable and dangerously appealing.

Downstairs the doorknocker was violently manipulated, and voices and footsteps on the stairs followed soon after. The doctor appeared in the doorway, looking as if he had been dragged out of bed only moments before. He barely seemed to notice Dobson or herself, his gaze fastening at once upon Max as he moved forward to examine his patient.

“Hmm, nasty,” he commented, prodding the wound with a force that made Marietta wince. “Whoever did this wasn’t just trying to put him to sleep.”

Marietta, observing over his shoulder, hated to think that such desperate people lived in such close proximity to Aphrodite’s home. The doctor glanced around, seeking whomever was in charge, and Dobson cleared his throat.

“I’ll sew the wound,” the doctor said. “It will be easier while he is unconscious. The gentleman seems
to be breathing evenly, but a blow to the head like that can cause damage to the brain. Bruising and swelling, even bleeding inside the skull.”

“Should we make arrangements to take Lord Roseby home?” Dobson asked.

“No, no, best to leave him where he is for now,” the doctor spoke authoritatively. “My advice would be as little disturbance as possible. Let him sleep and, if he wakes, give him water or broth, if he can take either. Someone must keep a watch on him; he should not be left on his own.”

The stitching was an unpleasant business. Marietta was given the task of holding Max’s head still, her palms gentle but firm on either side of his face. He didn’t struggle—he was beyond it—and apart from an occasional wrinkle of his brow it was as if he was oblivious to the doctor’s probing. It wasn’t until the wound was sewn, and the doctor put on a fresh bandage, that his eyes flickered and opened.

“Miss Greentree?” Max looked up at Marietta, clearly puzzled, before his gaze slid to the doctor.

“Sir? Can you hear me, sir?” the doctor held his attention.

“Of course I can hear you. You’re shouting,” Max said grumpily. And then, trying to sit up, “What’s going on?” But the slight movement drew a low, agonized groan from him, and a cry of, “Dear God, my head!”

“You were hit, sir. Nothing to worry about. Close your eyes now and rest. That’s it.”

Max didn’t need to be told twice. He had already shut his eyes and appeared to have fallen asleep, or lost consciousness. The doctor was pleased with even that brief, lucid moment, however.

“He’ll be right as rain,” he announced with jovial certainty. “I’ll come and see him in the morning, but I don’t expect there to be any complications now.” He caught Marietta’s wide-eyed glance and smiled reassuringly, “Oh, he’ll be sore, miss, don’t doubt it, but he’ll live to make his nurse’s life a misery, you mark my words. I’ve seen forthright gentlemen like him before, and they don’t like to be incapacitated.”

After a few more stern instructions, the doctor and Dobson left the room, and Marietta was alone with Max.

He didn’t wake again, or move. Watching him in silence, she decided that he looked even more like a Byronic hero than before, if that were possible. Although Marietta had never been much of an admirer of the wild antics of the late Lord Byron—Victorian society considered him shocking—Francesca was besotted with him.
So romantic, so tragic!
As she looked upon the stricken Lord Roseby, for the first time Marietta could understand Francesca’s addiction.

It was an amazing thing, to find oneself attracted to a man one didn’t know. The jolt of recognition, the tingling in her bones, frightened her and Marietta had no intention of allowing it to go further. She had enjoyed flirting with Max earlier, and she felt sorry for him now, but there must be no more to it than that. Max would recover and go his own way, and she would go hers.

Aphrodite arrived in due course. She had a worry line etched upon her normally smooth brow, and Marietta noticed that her eyes were tired. “You must go home at once, Marietta,” she said. “I should never have let you stay so long. I will sit with Lord Roseby.”

Marietta looked again at Aphrodite’s weary face. “No. You go to Vivianna. I don’t mind staying—I want to. I know Lord Roseby, remember? If he were to wake in pain and confusion…Well, it will not be such a shock if he sees me rather than some stranger.”

Aphrodite gave her a look that was a mixture of amusement, irritation and doubt. “I am sure Lady Greentree would be very cross with me if I let you stay here with a man you hardly know. It is not the done thing, Marietta.”

“Mama would be cross if I did
not
stay,” Marietta corrected her politely. “She brought me up to always be kind and helpful to injured creatures, no matter who or what they are.”

Aphrodite gave a little snort of laughter. “Very good, Marietta! You are accomplished at getting your own way, I see.”

“Honestly, Aphrodite, I will be perfectly all right. It is my duty to stay. Please, I feel as if it is partly my fault. If I hadn’t made him cross he would never have strode off in such high dudgeon. He’d still be here, enjoying himself.” She did feel responsible for Max, and not just because his leaving had been her fault. It was as if she already knew him well enough to worry about his welfare.

Aphrodite sighed and shook her head.
“Very
good at getting your own way,” she murmured. Then, with a little shrug, “Very well. The doctor has told me he may be thirsty when he wakes, so I will have some water brought up for him. And there will be broth kept warm downstairs, in case he needs that later on. As for you…one of the servants will bring you tea and sandwiches, Marietta,
mon petit puce
.”

Startled, Marietta blinked. Did Aphrodite just call her a little flea?

But Aphrodite’s thoughts had moved on from such mundane considerations as broth and tea. “You will think me very hard-hearted, and you must believe I do care about what has been done to Lord Roseby, but I am wondering at the moment whether this will be good for my business. How do you think it looks when the customers of Aphrodite’s Club are knocked down upon leaving? As pleasant as these surroundings are, they may well think twice about calling if they are risking their lives.”

Marietta did not believe Aphrodite was hard-hearted at all—as a businesswoman her concern was valid. “Perhaps no one will know.”

“I think it is already too late. The servants know, and the doctor, and the errand boy who found him. They will all talk to their friends. And what if the monster who did this to Lord Roseby does it again, to another gentleman? No, no, this is not at all a good thing.”

Marietta hadn’t thought of that. “Do you think it will happen again?”

“I do not know,
mon petit puce
. But we must ask ourselves this: Was it a random attack or was it aimed at Lord Roseby in particular? He is involved in a scandal of the blackest kind. His father has disowned him, his life is ruined. Perhaps there is someone out there who is not satisfied with him being merely ruined; perhaps they want him dead.”

Marietta opened her mouth and closed it again. Max, dead? She felt dizzy with dread at the picture forming in her mind. It was odd, because she was not even certain that she liked him. He had sunk
himself in gloom at his own misfortune, and yet he had related with her sense of adventure. When she had questioned his abilities as a lover, he had proved he was quite capable of making her heart thump and her flesh quiver. He had held her hand in his and sucked her fingertips, and gazed meaningfully into her eyes, and just before Aphrodite had interrupted them, he had been going to kiss her. And she would have let him; she had been looking forward to it.

Aphrodite was observing her, and Marietta had the uncomfortable feeling that her mother had read every thought that flitted across her face. The courtesan must be adept at understanding gestures and expressions—unlocking her clients’ secrets was one of the tools of her profession.

This seemed like the moment to talk of her own hopes and ambitions.

“May I speak to you, Aphrodite?”

“Of course!”

Marietta doubted Max could hear them, but she still felt awkward expressing her most private thoughts in front of him. She opened the door and stepped outside into the gallery. With a puzzled smile, her mother followed.

“Do you remember when you came to Greentree Manor, and we were reunited?” Marietta began cautiously.

“Of course I remember! To be with my two youngest daughters again after so long…I will never forget.”

“And do you know what I thought when I saw you, Aphrodite?”

Aphrodite shook her head, clearly puzzled. “No, Marietta, what was it you thought?”

“You were so different, so exciting. Greentree Manor had not seen anything as exotic as you since a circus leopard escaped onto the moors and it took twenty men to recapture it.” Marietta took a breath, realizing she was becoming a little melodramatic and Aphrodite was hiding a smile. “I always intended to fall wildly in love, like Vivianna. I suppose that was why I was so foolish as to run away with Gerard Jones, despite all the good advice I had to the contrary. I was a silly little romantic, in love with the idea of love. I know better now. I know that my destiny lies in becoming a courtesan, like you, and I want you to help me attain my goal.”

Aphrodite’s smile faded and she went still, seeming to withdraw into herself. Marietta waited, not knowing what to expect, but hoping that her mother would understand what she was asking. That she might even be proud that one of her daughters wanted to follow in her silk-slippered footsteps.

But as impatient as she was, the waiting grew too much for her. “Aphrodite, what are you thinking?”

The courtesan fixed Marietta with her dark gaze. “I am thinking that this is nothing but another romantic dream,
mon petit puce.
The life of a courtesan is not romantic. To survive in her world, to thrive in her world, a courtesan needs to be practical and clever and cold-hearted, just as I was a moment ago, when I wondered whether the attack on poor Lord Roseby would be bad for business. There is nothing of romance in it, or if there is, then it is very fleeting and must be…suppressed. You see, Marietta, romance is love and a woman cannot be a courtesan and love only one man. Many prosperous careers have been destroyed through falling in love.”

Marietta could not help but ask, “Have you ever fallen in love with just one man, Aphrodite?”

Her mother smiled, and there was something about that smile that reminded Marietta of Vivianna when she looked at Oliver. “Ah yes, I have loved, and it was love that finally led me to end my career.”

Marietta wanted to ask more, but the need to discuss her own plans had greater urgency.

“How can I make you understand? I don’t care about love anymore. I have ruined myself for love, and I have had my fill of it. I do not mean ever to put myself into a man’s power again, or to place my trust in his keeping.”

“You want to remain in control of your own destiny,” Aphrodite said softly. “You want to protect your heart. I understand that.”

“Yes!” she answered with relief. “And if I did not take this path, then what else would I do, Aphrodite? Stay at home and dream of what might have been? Allow Uncle William to lecture me on my scandalous behavior? I cannot, I
will
not. I want to live my life as fully as I can.”

Aphrodite smiled. “Is there no other choice between these two extremes?”

“I cannot see it.”

The courtesan sighed. “Being my daughter has destroyed all your chances of happiness. I see it now, and it is all my fault.”

“No!”

“
Oui, oui,
it is. Because I was selfish and wanted children of my own. That is so, Marietta.”

“How can Gerard be your fault? I was young and silly, and I let myself be swept away by him. He was a clever cad, but if I had been wiser, more cautious, I
would have seen through him. No, I ruined myself. It is my fault and mine alone, and I accept that, just as I accept that I will never allow myself to love and trust a man again. But I do not intend to let any of those things spoil my life. I want to
live
, Madame, surely there is nothing wrong with that?”

Aphrodite sighed. “Marietta, you cannot just wish for a thing and have it happen to you. A courtesan does more than smile and take a gentleman’s coat and hat. You know this.”

She stepped closer. “Of course I do. I know what men want, and I’m sure I have some aptitude—I am your daughter, after all. I do not pretend I am very experienced in these matters. But I think I can learn, I want to learn. That is why I have come to you.”