A Marquess' Forbidden Desire (Steamy Historical Regency)

by Lucinda Nelson

  Becky had always been like this. A little reserved. A little mechanical. But beneath all that, she had a warm and soft center that only Marianne knew of.

  “My Lady…” she began, in a slow voice.

  “Please don’t try to dissuade me, darling,” Marianne begged. She stood and gripped her friend’s hands. “I have already made up my mind and I will not be swayed. So you are entirely free of any responsibility. Do you understand? Consider yourself kidnapped!” She said, with a light laugh. She knew that Becky was worried and she wished she wouldn’t be.

  “Just this once,” Marianne added. “We might both have our freedom. You and I having fun. No rules. No regulations. Does that not sound wonderful?”

  Becky didn’t seem convinced. She looked a little sickly in fact. Marianne blinked and lost her smile. “Becky? Are you well?”

  Becky swallowed. “Yes, my Lady, I only feel terribly sick suddenly.”

  At first, she felt concerned. But then she saw Becky smile and felt her squeeze her hands in return.

  Marianne grinned at her friend, who didn’t often make jokes. “Are you teasing me, Becky?”

  She looked like a child who didn’t know how to make mischief. Half unsure, half amused. “I suppose we might have a little fun. Though you mustn’t tell anyone I said so.”

  Marianne jumped and cupped Becky’s hands together. “Oh Becky, you shan’t regret it. I swear.”

  ***

  Lord Alexander Anthony Redmond, Marquess of Riversdale

  “What is this for?” Alexander asked. Julius had just swaggered into the drawing room and tossed a mask into his hands. It was a simple black mask, with a couple of jewels in each upper corner, beside the eye holes.

  “For the folk fair,” Julius answered. “I have one for me too.”

  Alexander looked up to see Julius wearing a deep red mask with feathers sticking out the top. “You look like a peacock.”

  “That is the point my friend. A peacock among pigeons.”

  “Am I a pigeon then?” Alexander said, with a smile.

  “You are a pigeon because you do not want to be noticed. I, on the other hand, very much do.”

  “I thought you weren’t keen on going to the fair,” Alexander reminded him, as Julius crossed to the mirror and looked at himself. He readjusted the mask so it sat a little higher up his nose.

  “I wasn’t,” he conceded. “Until I went into the town to buy these masks and saw all the lovely ladies preparing themselves. They are terribly excited. And the women of Bath are quite beautiful, you know.”

  Alexander shook his head, but didn’t reprimand him. “Why are we wearing masks? Is it masquerade themed?”

  “Not exactly. Though I am certain there will be other masked men and women in attendance. There will be plenty of costumes.”

  “So why masks?”

  “Well, I did consider buying you something a little less bland. A juggler’s outfit. Or a gypsy gown. But in the end I settled for the mask.”

  Alexander frowned at him, until Julius rolled his eyes.

  “Oh, don’t look so sullen. I only thought it best that we keep a low profile. When was the last time anyone you know was seen at a folk fair?”

  “Never,” Alexander answered.

  “Exactly. We have the masks so that we can maintain our anonymity and enjoy the spoils of the fair without any chance of reprimand.”

  “The spoils of the fair? I only want to look around. I don’t plan on sharing in any spoils. I’m not a pirate, Julius.”

  “Ahh, but you could have been!” He said, with a broad smile. “There was a delightful pirate’s outfit that I thought would fit you delightfully well.”

  With a sigh of impatience, Alexander resumed his reading and ignored Julius’ ongoing chatter. Occasionally, he glanced down at the mask. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t think it was such a terrible idea.

  There was something quite exhilarating about the idea of being able to adopt another character. Be a different man. Have one night where he didn’t have to worry about what he did, what he said and who saw or heard it.

  He could be himself, perhaps, behind that mask.

  Or better, he could be someone else.

  ***

  Lady Marianne Purcell, Daughter of Baron Westlake

  “They’re wonderful, Becky.”

  “Are you sure, my Lady? I’m sorry I couldn’t find anything better.”

  “I can’t imagine anything better. I love them.” As Marianne spoke, she pressed the mask onto her face. It was beautiful. A deep red with elegant feathers and a couple of opal jewels. Becky wore a simpler one, in royal blue with crystals.

  “What a grand idea,” Marianne said as she looked at herself. Her green eyes sparkled and offset the red velvet mask. She pushed her hair back over her shoulder. She didn’t look like her sister. Not really. She was younger, yes, but it was more than that. Her face was very petite and her features extremely delicate.

  Sometimes Marianne thought that she looked more like a porcelain doll than a living, breathing human.

  Perhaps because Eliza had told her that so many times when she was a child. Something she’d grown to be quite self-conscious about.

  She thought that perhaps that was why so many people overlooked her. She felt unimportant at times. Unnoticed. Unwanted.

  Particularly beside her sister, who had physically pushed her aside at times just to snatch the attention of a handsome gentleman or an interesting lady.

  Because of Eliza, Marianne didn’t have very many friends. There was Lilia and Becky. But everyone else she’d tried to befriend had been chased off by Eliza in one way or another.

  In the worst cases, potential friends had only lasted a few hours. Some had lasted days. Very few had lasted more than that.

  Perhaps tonight, she’d make a friend. Even if it was only for a few nights. And if they felt a connection, Marianne might come and visit them. If they lived in Bath, surely Eliza wouldn’t be able to corrupt their affections for Marianne.

  She took a deep breath and smiled at herself.

  The mask distracted from what Eliza called the weaker parts of Marianne’s face. The tiny nose. The big eyes. The especially pink lips. She didn’t look like a girl child, as Eliza often made her feel. She looked like a woman.

  But the mask was more than an accessory. It was a necessity. If Marianne was to truly have a taste of freedom, she needed to step out of her own shoes for a night. Be someone else who was free of her name and title.

  “I’m ready,” Marianne said. She turned to face Becky and stopped in her tracks. “Oh Becky, you look wonderful.”

  Her cheeks went pink. She was wearing a light gown that Marianne had chosen for her. Becky had been hesitant at first. It was unusual for a lady to lend a servant her dress, but Marianne didn’t want Becky to feel like a servant tonight.

  Only a dear friend. Marianne wanted her to enjoy herself as much as she did. “Truly, my Lady?”

  “Truly!”

  “You look remarkable,” she breathed in answer. Marianne looked down at herself. She felt good. She was wearing a green gown that matched the deeper colors in her eyes.

  It hugged her body and made her feel womanly. Experienced. Fierce. “Thank you,” she said, with a light blush.

  Then she took Becky by the hand and led her out to the carriage.

  It was a short ride to the fair. And as they drew closer she could hear the noise getting louder. Laughter. The chatter of voices. The sound of children playing.

  She put her head out the window and looked ahead of the carriage, to Becky’s distress.

  “Oh, my Lady, do come in. Do be careful.”

  But Marianne was too excited. Ahead of them she could see lanterns and stalls and children running about. “We’re almost there!”

  She was half out the door the instant the carriage stopped. But before her feet hit the ground, Becky grabbed her elbow with wide eyes. “My Lady,” she said. In her hand, she held out her
mask.

  Damn. She’d come so close to making a mistake. Within the first few moments of arriving. She thanked Becky and put the mask on.

  As they stepped out of the carriage, a child ran past her, almost knocking her down. “Sorry, miss!” He yelled out as he passed. He was chasing another boy, who was laughing wildly and shaking a hat in the air. No doubt stolen from the boy who’d knocked her down.

  Marianne sucked in a breath and put her hand to her heart, but she was smiling.

  “Are you alright, my Lady?”

  “I’m delighted!” She said, and started forwards. Becky had to trot to keep up with her. “Now, you mustn’t call me ‘my Lady’ tonight.”

  Becky blinked. “But… then what must I call you?”

  Marianne thought for a moment. “Anything you like, I suppose. But not Marianne. And not by my title. How about darling?” She answered herself before Becky could speak. “Yes, yes. We will call each other darling. We are dear friends who met in… in school. Does that sound feasible?”

  Becky gave her a queer look, which made Marianne feel a little embarrassed. She must have sounded so foolish to Becky, having lived such a coddled lifestyle.

  She suddenly resented not knowing the sort of lives people like the townsfolk at the fair lived. How would she fit in among them if she couldn’t even understand them? She wrung her hands. “Is that okay?”

  “Quite okay… darling. Please don’t worry yourself.” Becky squeezed her hand reassuringly and led her towards the nearest stalls. It was fantastic.

  They were selling little bits and bobs, nicknacks and delightfully small things. She loved them. They were so dear that she bought several trinkets. A china dog the size of a thimble. A tiny doll made of straw.

  “Look at this! Look at how charming it is!” Marianne said. She was so thrilled that she couldn’t stop talking. She showed Becky the doll, but she didn’t look in the least bit thrilled. “What’s the matter?” Marianne asked.

  There was a part of her that expected this night to be ruined. To be stolen from her at any moment. It was a frightening feeling that made her feel jittery from time to time.

  “Never you worry,” Becky said.

  “No, dear, please tell me. Have I done something wrong? Something to give myself away?”

  “No, no,” Becky assured her. “Only I would recommend being careful how much you spend. These are poor folk. They may notice if you buy a great deal.”

  This had not occurred to her. She blinked and looked down at the bag full of trinkets she’d bought. “What would I do without you, Becky?” She said, with a small shake of her head. “I am quite useless, aren’t I?”

  “No, my Lady-”

  “Darling,” Marianne interjected.

  “… Darling, you aren’t in the least bit useless. Now, where should we go next?”

  Chapter 4

  Lord Alexander Anthony Redmond, Marquess of Riversdale

  “This is quite charming,” Alexander remarked as they walked through the fair. There was so much movement, so much noise, so much life. Alexander was the sort of gentleman who enjoyed the quiet, but there was something so rapturous about seeing these people living as they did.

  Yes, they lived simple lives. Simple lives that he envied them for. Perhaps that was an ignorant thing to think, but he couldn’t help it. He wondered how many of the boys playing at this fair had disappointed their fathers as he had.

  Julius made a generic sound in response, to acknowledge that Alexander had spoken.

  Alexander looked at him. His friend wasn’t even looking at him. Didn’t even appear to be listening. Instead, he was craning his head so that he could peer out over the crowd. “Now she is a fine thing,” he said, more to himself than to Alexander.

  Alexander let him have his fun. He turned towards one of the stalls and discussed the gentleman’s wares for a short while. He was selling homemade wine, which he allowed Alexander to sample. He almost choked on it. “My,” he remarked, in a strained voice. “That is quite strong.” His eyes were watering, which made the gentleman laugh. He tossed back a glass of it in one big swig. His mouth was so big that it looked like a cavern. A cavern of joy.

  Alexander laughed with him and, with the man’s encouragement, took another swig.

  “You see?” He said. “Not so bad the second time.”

  Alexander agreed and bought a barrel.

  “A barrel?” The man blinked at Alexander.

  “Yes, a barrel would be lovely,” Alexander confirmed. It was then that Julius sidled up beside him.

  “A barrel?” Julius said, with a guffaw. “You must have taken too much, my friend. He means a satchel, of course.”

  Alexander blinked at his friend and opened his mouth to correct him. But the look Julius gave him rendered him silent. He looked back at the wine seller. “Yes, a satchel of course.”

  The man smiled and nodded, prepared the satchel for him and they went onto the next stall.

  “What are you thinking?” Julius said to him, quietly but firmly.

  “It was good wine. And I thought he could benefit from the sale.”

  “If you hope to go unnoticed here you cannot be buying barrels of wine, Alexander. The men here do not have that sort of capital and if they did they wouldn’t spend it so.”

  “Of course,” Alexander said, as the realization came upon him. He nodded as they walked and tried to remind himself of that, several times, so that he wouldn’t forget it again.

  “Ahh! Just the ticket!” Julius said, as he pushed Alexander towards a curtained stall.

  Alexander quickly realized what it was and planted his feet, but Julius was a strong, stocky man whose stubbornness – more than anything else – overwhelmed his own. “You know that I don’t believe in such drivel.”

  “Oh, don’t be a bore. It’s fun.”

  Alexander grimaced. They were at the curtain now. Julius pulled it back and gestured for Alexander to enter. He could have fought him on the matter, but he didn’t care enough. Besides, Julius always won when it came to persuading Alexander of something. It was easier to surrender whenever possible, to preserve his energy for more important matters of dispute with Julius.

  “I see nothing fun about this,” he grumbled, as he stepped inside. He expected Julius to be close behind, but the curtain fell and he was alone.

  He looked back at the curtain, considered leaving, but expelled a breath and stepped further inside. The tent looked larger on the inside than the outside. An illusion that made him rather curious. Perhaps there were built in mirrors, designed to make the place look grander. He’d seen such tricks before.

  “Hello?” He called. The tent was almost empty, save for a single table and two chairs in the center There were two dim lanterns too, which illuminated the space just enough, but kept it looking dark and eerie. “Hello?” He said again.

  When the woman appeared it was sudden. One moment she wasn’t there and, before he could take his next breath, she was there. It almost made him suck in a breath, but he wouldn’t fall prey to their tricks. This wasn’t a profession he respected by any means, because he was not a fan of deception. When money was changing hands, it felt more like extortion.

  “You should know that I am not a spiritual man,” Alexander informed her, in polite a tone as he could manage.

  She looked like a crone, just as they always did. Hunched over, in a tattered old cloak with a haggard face. Her eyes looked sunken and were icy white.

  “You mean that you don’t believe,” she said. Though she looked old, her voice was strangely high and youthful. She sounded like a woman of twenty.

  Alexander kept a steady countenance. “Yes, that’s what I mean.”

  “Well then you needn’t think much of this,” she said, and gestured towards the seat closest to him.

  Yes, he supposed that was true.

  He took his seat. “I’m here because-” He tried to explain that his friend had forced him, but she interjected.

 
“I know. He’s a difficult chap to say no to, isn’t he?”

  Alexander opened his mouth to say that that was an understatement, but the words stuck in his throat. His brows wrinkled, but before he could ask her how she knew of Julius, she waved her hand as if it wasn’t of any importance.

  “Now,” she said, which shut him up quickly enough. Without asking, she took hold of his hand and pulled it to the center of the table. She turned it over and looked at his palm.

  Her fingers were uncomfortably warm.