The Marquess Who Kissed Me: (The Valiant Love Regency Romance) (A Historical Romance Book)

by Deborah Wilson

  The man had a point.

  Was that why he’d left?

  No, there had to be another reason.

  “They want Belle dead,” Husher said again, as though Oliver needed the reminder.

  “I’ll handle it,” he told his old friend.

  Then he watched Husher retreat to the curtains, slip the door open, and leave.

  Oliver cursed. He’d forgotten to get the jacket.

  He needed to talk to Van Dero.

  He needed to talk to Remy, who was in charge of the guards.

  He needed to see Belle, but he’d have to wait for all of it because everyone he’d named was currently behind a closed door in the drawing-room to witness Belle tie herself to Dunst in holy matrimony.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  0 6

  * * *

  He’s going to kill me.

  Why hadn’t Belle guessed it before? Oliver had been so nice to her. Maybe it was the guilt of what he planned to do that drove him to give her the necklace and call her beautiful.

  Parting gifts.

  She’d been going back to her room for her gloves when she’d heard the voices on the other side. She wasn’t sure who had been with Oliver, but she’d heard the words.

  They want Belle dead.

  I’ll handle it.

  Oliver would handle her.

  She’d laughed and cried in the hall as she rushed to the drawing-room where the ceremony would take place. It was only right that Oliver would be the one to take her life. After what she’d done to him, it was only right.

  She couldn’t deny that his world had been altered for the worst the day they’d met.

  She’d been sent to lure him into Gregory’s organization. The old duke had Belle beaten and dropped where only Oliver would find her.

  He’d taken her to his home and had cared for her.

  And in time, she’d learned to care for him as well.

  In the beginning, she’d pretended to be weak and in fear of the men who’d pounded her flesh, but after a while, the lies had begun to trouble her and she’d begged him to leave the subject alone.

  She hadn’t known before meeting Oliver why Gregory had wanted him. She hadn’t known anything about the Marquess of Venmont’s past.

  But Oliver had revealed it to her their final morning together when he’d begged to avenge her once more.

  He’d been trained by his father to survive anything. He’d learned to conquer man and beast. He’d lived in the wilderness. He was a fighter and skilled with guns and knives.

  He’d have been the perfect assassin.

  Yet he hadn’t become one until her.

  It had all made sense after that.

  It was winter, and Gregory’s enemies were hiding in Ben Nevis, the mountains in Scotland. To go up around that time of year would be suicide.

  Yet he’d have done it for her.

  He had done it for her.

  And sold his soul to Gregory in the process.

  He’d been changed after that.

  “It must be here somewhere.” Vicar Abrams checked his pockets once more. “I know it’s here,” he said again. His voice had a heavy Italian accent. He was not the one originally asked to marry them, but the other clergyman had gotten sick and asked Abrams to step in.

  Dunst glared at the man as he tapped his foot. “How is it that you lost a wedding contract I only just gave you?”

  That was the strange thing. Dunst had just given the man the contract and now it was gone.

  The vicar turned around in a circle and then said in Italian, “Let’s see if I dropped it. Everyone, look!”

  Belle translated for those who didn’t understand. That included Dunst.

  The room was full of witnesses even though only two were required.

  Everyone began to search around their feet.

  The vicar looked under the table beside him.

  Dunst, who was holding Belle’s hand, gave a small yank that caused her to look at him. “Did you do this?” he whispered.

  She frowned. “Do what?”

  He stared at her through his one good dark eye. The other was sewn shut and hidden behind an eye patch. He’d lost it as a child. “The contract. Did you make it go away?” Sometimes, he still acted like a child.

  “I’ve been standing by you this entire time. When would I have had time to hide a wedding contract?” And what would be the point? She had a feeling they’d not be married long.

  “I… don’t know.” He looked away.

  Belle stroked his arm. She’d been told he enjoyed physical affection far more than most men and likely because he got very little of it. “I promise you, I’ve done nothing.”

  His mouth was pinched, but his body relaxed. That eye narrowed at her once more. “Don’t pretend to want me. I was fooled once. I’ll not be fooled again.” He’d been upset to learn that his first fiancée had been in love with another man.

  Belle let her eyes descend to his groin before lifting. “My lord, I’m a far different sort of woman. So long as you have what I require, it is all I’ll ever need.” It was easier to concentrate on flirting than her coming death.

  His cheeks went hot, and he bent toward her. “I have what you need, Lady Belle.” He squeezed her hand possessively. “I hope it will be enough.”

  He was so lonely.

  Belle had planned to exploit that weakness in her marriage. She’d planned to use it to control him. Now, all her plans were for nothing. She wouldn’t even try to stop Oliver when the time came. Every life he’d taken since meeting her was on her hands. “Don’t worry.” She stroked Dunst's arm again. “I can teach you all you need to know.” It was no secret that she’d been with other men. Most of Society was aware of it, but she kept it quiet enough that the Ton was not offended.

  She was older than Dunst. Thirty to his twenty-five. Most people didn’t believe her age. She came up to the average man’s shoulder. She came up to Oliver’s mid-arm.

  The vicar jumped to his feet. There was something familiar about him, yet Belle was certain they’d never met. She took in Abram’s white hair and abundant wrinkles. He could be in his seventies, yet his eyes were so young.

  “Never mind.” Abram held up his hands. “The contract is for the government. So long as a member of the church does the ceremony, it will still be valid according to the church. We’ll simply get another paper later.”

  Dunst sighed. “Well, get on with it.”

  The vicar stepped forward and began to go through the usual vows.

  In Italian.

  Dunst didn’t stop him. They’d wasted enough time looking for the contract.

  There were small deviations from what was written in the Book of Common Prayers, phrases that made her narrow her eyes, but the vicar didn’t pause once for questions.

  When he came to the part that required a response, both Belle and Dunst said, “I will,” and it was done. They were man and wife.

  Until death.

  “The guests have begun to arrive,” Cassius said. “We should join them.” He helped Milly from the room and everyone else followed.

  The vicar left quickly with barely a word.

  Belle began to follow, but Dunst held her back until they were the last in the room.

  “I want a taste of what I will be getting tonight, wife.”

  She’d held him back all week, teasing him and knowingly driving him mad with want.

  What was a kiss now? They were wed.

  Belle had done it.

  She’d finally sold herself for the last time.

  She beat down the rising panic as she stroked his jaw. “Come here, husband.”

  He was on her quickly. His kiss was sloppy. His hands were rough and grabbed her everywhere. There was little technique on his end. He was uncoordinated and allowed primal hunger to control him. He moved his mouth to her throat and sank his teeth into her skin.

  Pain struck and she broke the kiss. She made certain she wore a smile as she covered her neck
. She’d stopped him just before he’d broken the skin. Would he have broken it?

  No. Only a mad person would do such a thing on purpose. “We’ll continue this later.”

  He grinned. His eyes were wild. “Yes, we will. I’ll send a maid for some paint and meet you outside the door.”

  He did as promised. The red mark he’d left was quickly covered. When trepidation tried to climb through her, she managed to calm herself with deep breathing.

  Feelings were heightened. Dunst had gotten carried away. All would be all right.

  He grabbed her arm the moment she stepped out of the room and led her away.

  In the hall, they passed a line of guards.

  When she looked up, her steps slowed as she caught sight of Oliver. He stood just over her.

  Their eyes locked, and she wondered how he planned to do it.

  It wouldn’t be public. She was certain of it. He’d do it privately. No one would be the wiser.

  And life would go on. Few would mourn her.

  She needed to get her affairs in order and make certain someone took over the care of her homes for orphans.

  The music and noise from the garden greeted her just before she stepped outside.

  The sky was clear and the air was warm.

  Dunst led her from the terrace and toward their guests.

  Someone gave her a glass of punch and she secretly swirled it around her mouth before swallowing it down.

  And as Belle was introduced, she switched her mind from concentrating on her own troubles to what this breakfast feast was truly about.

  She categorized the names and faces in her mind. She listened not only to what was said but how certain things were said. Cassius’ team was already looking into half the lords present. She made a mental note of the few she thought true threats to the safety of the innocent.

  If she were to die today, she wanted to be sure she’d done everything she could to help.

  A tear fell from her eye, and she hastily wiped it away.

  “Why the tears?” a woman asked.

  Belle smiled, aware that Dunst was nearby. “The breakfast is everything I could have hoped for.” And as far as the decor went, that was true. When Belle had been young before her life had changed, she’d always imagined she’d have a grand wedding at St. George’s before an elaborate breakfast. Every intricate flower in bloom covered the tables and were in the lapels of the footmen. White roses had even been pushed into the tall hedges. Garland hung between the trees and around the post where lanterns had been set. They wouldn’t be lit. The meal would end long before darkness fell, but the lanterns were a lovely touch.

  It was a lovely breakfast on a lovely day.

  She would think about that more than anything.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  0 7

  * * *

  Oliver pretended to aimlessly wander the party, but he kept his eyes on Belle and allowed his gaze to linger on the men and women who stopped to speak to her. If they narrowed their gazes when she moved on, he immediately placed them on his suspect list.

  She was wearing her false smile, he noted, and though he’d realized it earlier in her room, he took further notice of how well the necklace complemented her. A sense of possession swept through him. It was not the first time he’d felt it, and yet with his jewelry against her throat, he thought only his hands would look better on her.

  He’d stroke her unblemished skin until it reddened under his touch and until her breath grew heavy with need.

  “Have we met before?”

  Oliver turned to see Lord Berret speaking to him. They hadn’t met, not formally. In fact, Oliver only knew who he was because he’d killed the man’s friend while in Berret’s home.

  “Venmont,” Oliver said.

  Berret bowed. “My lord.” He was older, short with child-like features. The happy glow about him seemed out of place in a Society that praised a rather deadpan expression. His gray hair circled his scalp but left the top bare. “I am Lord Berret.”

  “Are you a friend of Dunst’s?”

  Berret’s brows rose. “No. I was invited by Lady Cebele.” He laughed. “It’s quite funny how we met. My son had gone missing in Hyde Park. My wife was quite worried. And where should we find him? Quietly asleep in Lady Cebele’s arms. Her footman had found us and took us to her. It was clear he’d been weeping before she’d calmed him down. There’s something special about her, don’t you think?”

  Belle had always had a certain amount of sway over men of all ages. Even now, he could see that Dunst wanted her. How long before the man fell in love?

  He didn’t understand Milly’s words to him last evening. She’d made it seem as though Belle and Dunst wouldn’t wed, and yet they were married, weren’t they?

  “You know, I believe I know your grandmother,” Lord Berret went on. “Lady Serveck? Wonderful woman. Her husband was a member of my fraternity.”

  Oliver lifted a brow. “You’re a Good Fellow?”

  “Only the best for our world,” he replied, telling Oliver the fraternity’s motto. “You know, I believe she mentioned that you’d made something...”

  “Excuse me. I have somewhere else to be.” Oliver moved away. He had little doubt his grandmother had set up that little meeting. He put that aside for now and went straight toward the bride.

  Her eyes widened at the sight of him, just as they had when she’d looked at him from the stairway.

  She’d been happy to see him in her room. Now, he saw a flash of fear at his approach.

  Dunst had just been pulled away by Van Dero to meet members of Cassius’ own team.

  It was the perfect time to speak to her.

  “What’s that look about?” he asked as he approached.

  She struggled to hide her fear. “What? Nothing.” She blinked. “What look?”

  He frowned. “You’re looking at me as though I’m going to do something reckless. I’ve shaved. What more do you want from me?”

  That brought out her smile, though there was a sadness attached to it. “Nothing. I… am glad you are here.”

  He wished he could say the same. “You outdid yourself for this meal.”

  She folded her hands in front of her and looked around. “It’s everything I ever wanted.” She smiled at him. “Well, almost everything.”

  “I thought you never wanted to marry.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That is far from true. Every young girl dreams of finding her soulmate and living in bliss for the rest of her days. It’s life’s tragedies that change that. Still, I dreamed once upon a time.”

  He’d always thought that to be true until he’d met Belle.

  “When did you stop dreaming of this?” he asked.

  She pulled in a breath. “A few years ago.”

  A few? He could not recall a time she spoke about marriage. Until recently, most of the couples they knew were unhappy and willing to forsake their vows in the search of happiness.

  They’d both been a part of Gregory’s circle, their duties forced upon them. It had been Belle who’d convinced him to work for Cassius after Gregory’s death. She’d seen the new duke’s vision and believed in him. Cassius was their way toward redemption.

  Even though they’d not been friends, Oliver had become dependent on seeing her every once in a while. He’d needed Belle and perhaps that was why they didn’t get along.

  His father had prepared him for everything but a pretty face.

  “Have you spoken to Leo?” she asked.

  Leonard was Oliver’s middle brother. He was the one keeping account of the names under investigation and tying the names to the other clues the organization had.

  Oliver’s younger brother Nicholas also worked for the duke. Nick had met the duke when they’d been young. It was Nick who’d make Oliver feel better about his choice to join Cassius’ forces. “I haven’t spoken to him yet, but I will soon enough.” At the moment, nothing was more important than her safety.

  Her eyes glazed o
ver with sadness again.

  It troubled him. How many times had he’d tried to provoke her in the past and failed? He would purposefully try and anger her, but she’d do nothing more than grace him with witty quotes and laugh in his face.

  He’d never gotten under her skin though she resided under his.

  And yet, something else was troubling her.

  “Come.” He moved toward the hedges.

  She hesitated before she followed.

  There was no one but a guard on the other side, and he was currently telling another party guests that this side of the garden was closed.

  He looked at Oliver and Belle, nodded, and then turned away.

  When Oliver looked at Belle again, she was pale and shaking.

  He did something he’d not done in five years.

  He reached out and touched her. He ran his hands up and down her arms, trying to warm her.

  “Are you cold?” He didn’t know how such a thing would be possible, but he was in a jacket and she was not.

  Gooseflesh bloomed under his touch, and her color skyrocketed. The shade of her eyes darkened before they gazed over.

  Was she ill?

  She stepped toward him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her head fell to rest on his chest. His arms went around her immediately. It had been a lifetime since he’d held her.

  She shook in his grasp. “If you must do it, do it now.”

  He pulled away and lifted her chin. “What?”

  “Do it,” she urged. “Just… do what it is you wish to do to me.”

  His blood descended from his brain and settled low, causing great pain in his groin.

  Was she aware of just how much he longed for her?

  She placed her hands on his chest. “I can’t wait anymore. Just do it.”

  So he did.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  0 8

  * * *

  Belle was confused at what Oliver was doing until his mouth touched her.

  She gasped and though she was aware of his actions, she was still confused.

  Was he kissing her?

  As his lips settled against hers, all her thoughts vanished.

  Except for one.