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

by Deborah Wilson

  Her heart slowed. She couldn’t deny Oliver’s words.

  He stepped closer. “I see you, Belle. I know you.”

  “You don’t.”

  “I do.” The claim came with a condescending expression.

  “What an idiot,” she whispered to herself.

  He bent lower. “What did you say?”

  He was close, and she took advantage of that.

  His mouth hadn’t been poised for a kiss, but she didn’t care and she didn’t stop. The feel of him was all-consuming, so much so that she couldn’t stop. All she could do was feel and cling to the source of her renewed hunger.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and nearly cried when he released a groan and joined in.

  She was scorched by his hands and his mouth. His body pressed in and she felt his arousal. She rubbed his shoulders and let her hands settle on his chest.

  She went lower. “Do you see me now?” she whispered. “Do you understand what it is I want?”

  He locked his hand to the back of her neck and kissed her hard.

  He trembled and groaned and then yanked her away from him. “You need… companionship. A husband. I’ll find that for you. We’ll begin our search back in London.”

  She blinked and then he was gone.

  * * *

  “Belle?” Vita called. “You’ve been quiet the entire journey. What is going on in that head of yours?”

  They were almost in London. They’d left Gavellorp as they’d come, but a few of the families had decided to retreat to their country seats instead of returning to the city.

  Pia and Sirius had gone east. Elisa and Nick had gone north.

  Remy had work to do in the city, so Vita had come with him with Noel had gone to see his mother.

  Milly was in the carriage with her husband. Remy and Oliver rode their horses.

  Only Vita rode with Belle.

  Vita had slept most of the way, but now she was awake.

  Belle turned to her newest friend. “Have you ever questioned Remy’s intelligence?”

  Vita’s blue eyes were blank, but then they glittered before she laughed. “Not really. I did wonder why he continued to lie to me about his connection to Cassius when I found out. There was so much unnecessary confusion. I don’t think men understand how a woman’s mind works.”

  Belle swallowed and wondered how much of her soul she could share with Vita.

  Then she decided she could share everything. Their relationship was unlike the ones she had with the other women. Vita and Belle were tied in many ways. They’d both been engaged to Dunst. Belle had seen Vita at her worst, and Vita had seen Belle commit murder in order to save them both.

  If she could trust anyone, it was Vita.

  “I’m in love with Oliver,” Belle said. In fear of Vita’s response, she changed the subject. “Have you and Leo been able to figure out the rest of the players on the chessboard?”

  Vita narrowed her eyes. “A few, but Leo rarely needs me, since thanks to you and Oliver, he has Dunst’s chessboard in his possession. That means I’m all yours.”

  Belle sighed. “I’ve never told anyone about Oliver, so you must swear to secrecy.”

  Vita gasped. “I knew you loved him!” She hugged Belle and then pulled away. “Thank you for trusting me with your secret.”

  Belle’s heart raced. “Thank you for being my friend. I don’t have many of those.”

  “I realized that,” Vita whispered. “Most of your friends are new, made within the last year. Why is that?”

  “Gregory often killed off whoever displeased him. I couldn’t risk losing a friend because they’d stood up for me and looked at him in a way he didn’t approve of.” She’d had friends once or twice. Those women and their families were dead.

  “I’m sorry.” Then Vita brightly changed the subject to what she thought better, “Does Oliver feel the same about you?”

  “No, it’s the opposite, I’m afraid.” Even with the memory of their two heated kisses burning in her mind, she knew he didn’t love her. No man would give away the woman he loved. Remy hadn’t given Vita away. Cassius had forced Milly to marry him.

  Their love had been evident.

  “He wishes to marry me off to someone else.” As though she were his kin or some other relative he had to see to.

  Vita frowned. “Oh, that sounds terrible. I’m so sorry, Belle. But I don’t understand why Oliver feels he has the right to marry you off.”

  “He doesn’t!” she cried. Then she closed her eyes and leaned back against the bench. “But like I told you, he saved me years ago. He set me free. Perhaps he believes I’ve been unwise with my freedom.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. You’ve done so much good for others. You are a living example of what independent women can achieve.”

  Belle turned and smiled at her. “Thank you, but I’m no saint.”

  “Who is?” Vita asked. “But you’ve done so much for others. I think Jesus was pointing us all toward kindness. Love your brother. You do that. You’ve loved so many.” Vita glared. “How dare Oliver think to control you this way. That he dares to think he can is preposterous.”

  Belle grinned. Vita hadn’t always been such a force. Belle had had a hand in making her more outspoken. Remy was appreciative, Belle was sure. “I agree.”

  “So, what do you intend to do?”

  “I won’t marry anyone he presents to me.” Her plans for her future hadn’t changed.

  “And?”

  Belle lifted a brow. “And?”

  Vita straightened and gave her a very direct look. “Surely, you don’t think that plan to be enough. I’ve met your dear Oliver and though I’ve only known him for a month, he does not seem the sort to back away from an agenda.”

  Belle stiffened and realized Vita was right. She’d never found herself in this position before. Her father had never tried to marry her off. He’d sold her body long before that could even be given serious consideration.

  She’d paid for his debts and more.

  “And neither do you,” Vita added.

  “What?”

  “I don’t think Oliver hates you. As you’ve implied, men don’t think everything through, especially when feelings come into play. From what I hear, Oliver has deep, deep feelings for you.”

  She turned away. “Yes, a deep, deep need to marry me to anyone but him.”

  Vita grabbed her shoulder and forced Belle to face her. “Well... you’ll just have to change his mind.”

  “How?”

  Vita blushed and then giggled. “I’m afraid that’s all the advice I have to offer. You’re the strategist. Isn’t this sort of thing what you do best?”

  It was, but never when her own heart was at risk. This was personal. “I can’t do it.”

  It took a while for Vita to speak again. “Never thought a little thing like a man could frighten you.”

  She gave her friend a melancholy smile. “Fearing men has been the story of my life, Vita.”

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  2 3

  * * *

  Upon his arrival at his apartment in London, Oliver was informed by his landlord that his brother Nicholas was in residence. The sun was just beginning to peek between the tall buildings that made up London. It was early.

  He’d left Gavellorp with the rest of the company but had broken off and gone home for a day.

  He’d been feeling out of sorts since speaking to Belle, though he didn’t know why.

  He’d gone to the room he’d allowed her to sleep in all those years ago. Everything was just as she’d left it, except for the necklace he’d given her.

  She’d worn it every day since he’d placed it around her throat.

  It had been no big deal giving it to her but watching her wear it was another thing.

  Remembering her happiness at receiving it and their shared kisses since… He’d had to tell himself that though he’d laid claim to her neck, he had no right to the rest of her body.

 
; She still didn’t know about the contract between him and Gregory and she never would.

  He often wondered if he’d made a mistake by giving it to her, yet every time the thought came, another followed: He hadn’t.

  It looked good on her. She made the simple piece look extraordinary.

  He met Nick in the drawing-room.

  His brother sat in a black chair by the window. “Have you ever thought about adding paint to this room?”

  The place wasn’t very big or well furnished. There was a great lack of color or design. It was much like Venmont House. Plain. Simple. A little ominous. But he was not opposed to color or nice things. In fact, he liked them. He just didn’t spend a great deal of time at home.

  And he only ever invited his brothers over. They didn’t complain.

  Until now.

  “Oh, Grandmother, I didn’t know you would be visiting. Had I known, I’d have worn my coat with tails. Tell me, do you require the best china for tea as well?” Oliver walked across the room.

  “You’re hilarious.” Nick narrowed his eyes before he smiled.

  Oliver motioned for Nick to get up. His brother groaned but moved to the other seat and allowed Oliver to take his place.

  This was his chair.

  And his view of the city below.

  He rented the rooms of the entire top floor of the tallest apartment in the center of Mayfair. From this position, he could see everything that happened on the main road. He liked to watch people and learn their habits.

  “How is our grandmother, by the way?” Nick asked.

  “You should go see Grandmother for yourself,” Oliver said. “Tell her that Elisa is with child. She’ll love that.”

  Nick smiled. He was the blond one, a mediator who was slow to anger. “We’re not sure if Elisa is with child. She simply believes she is. Either way, it’s far too early to make any announcements. I only told you, because… Actually, I’m not sure why I told you.”

  Oliver settled deeper into this chair. “Because you were looking for reassurance that you’d be a good father and not turn out like our own.”

  Nick crossed his arms. “Which is something you’ve yet to give me.”

  Oliver didn’t see the point in telling people things they already knew.

  He was reminded of his conversation with Belle before her wedding. Had he truly never told her she was beautiful until minutes before her fake wedding? He hadn’t thought it a big deal until she’d said it aloud. Her words gave rise to the fact that she’d noticed and perhaps had been looking and waiting for it. She’d expected it.

  But had she expected it because everyone else never failed to mention she was pretty? Or was the matter more personal?

  “Father was paranoid that a circle of men were out to kill him and his entire line,” Oliver said. “Do you think someone is out to get you and kill your family?”

  “No.”

  “Then you won’t be like Father.”

  Nick sighed. “Well, that’s reassuring.” He was no longer smiling. “You know it was more than that. What if I ruin this child’s life? What if I ruin Elisa? What if I can’t keep her happy? What if he never knows happiness? I want him to be happy.”

  Oliver closed his eyes. The Childs’ Inkling. He was tired. He’d ridden through the night and had agreed to go to a meeting that would take place in an hour. He was within walking distance and wanted to nap between now and then.

  But he couldn’t push his brother out. Even more than their middle brother Leonard, Oliver felt responsible for Nick and knew his brother looked up to him.

  “Do you hear yourself?” Oliver asked. “You don’t want to be like Father. You want your child to be happy. If those remain your intentions, I don’t foresee you failing.” He looked at his brother. “Are we done?”

  Nick smiled and nodded. “I suppose you’re right. Father never cared if we were happy, only if we lived and even then…”

  “Our will to live had to be stronger than the enemy’s need for our death,” Oliver said. “The future is only for the strong.” It was a quote their father had said often.

  “I don’t want to talk about him anymore,” Nick said.

  Oliver didn’t want to talk at all. He wanted to sleep.

  He’d visited the caves on his trip. Everyone was accounted for. All were safe.

  Oliver felt himself begin to drift away.

  Nick’s voice pulled him back out. He knew his brother’s desire for sleep and chose to keep it out of reach. In thirty years, nothing had changed about Nick. There were ten years between them. Oliver was forty-one.

  Nick had just turned thirty-one and was living a fuller life than Oliver. He was everything Oliver had hoped he’d become. “Grandmother wants you to take your lighter to the Good Fellows.”

  Oliver groaned. “Not you, too.” He hadn’t known this would be the month when his brothers sought to give him advice.

  “She wrote while you were gone. She said it’s a tradition. Our grandfather was in it. You must join.”

  “Father didn’t. He had a choice.”

  “The lighter is brilliant,” Nick said.

  “I know.” Oliver stood and stretched. When he was done, he looked at Nick. “Which is why I choose not to share it.” He started from the room.

  “You could be wealthy.” Nick followed.

  “I’m already wealthy.”

  “Wealthier.”

  “I’ve got more money than I know what to do with.” Oliver’s life was simple. He liked to keep it that way.

  Seeing that sleep was not in his near future, he walked into his backroom, the place where he worked.

  Some would call the cluttered room with its many tables, books, papers, and mysterious objects a laboratory, but Oliver thought it nothing more than a place to solve issues. He had a room similar to this at his estate. He’d built his own traps and tested other methods for bringing down both beast and man.

  “What are you working on now?” Nick looked around at the tables that were littered with metals and jars of powders and liquids.

  Oliver sat in another chair by an open window. From here, he could see Belle’s townhome. It was yet another reason he’d procured the rooms for himself. He could see her front door past the street over. He had to use a spyglass to see who came and went. A

  ll in an effort to keep her safe, of course.

  He picked up a tin box from the clutter there. “I’m working on a combustible.”

  Nick crossed his arms. “What will it do?”

  “When hit too hard, it will explode.” He tossed it to Nick, who caught it with a wide-eyed look. Then he looked down at it. “Does it do it now?”

  “No. I’m still working on it.” He’d not have thrown it to his brother if it did.

  Nick walked it back over to Oliver and slowly placed it on the table. “Why are you doing this?”

  “You know the lantern trick?” Oliver asked. He’d used it not too long ago when an enemy was chasing his carriage late one evening.

  His footmen dropped lanterns in the road and Oliver would wait for the fiend to come in sight before he pulled the trigger on his rifle. The trail of lanterns allowed Oliver to keep an eye on his targets.

  The lantern trail was a trick their father had taught them.

  Nick nodded. “What’s your combustible have to do with that?”

  “Imagine a man shooting at my carriage at night. Now, imagine if I dropped this and not the lantern.” He picked up the tin box.

  Nick stared at his hand. “The rider would go over the box and it would… combust.”

  “Exactly.”

  Nick frowned. “The horse would die.”

  “The horses often die when we misaim.”

  “What if the wrong rider happens to come across it?”

  “Anyone riding toward the sounds of gunfire didn’t wish to live either way.”

  “The lighter is better, but you should take it all to the fraternity.” Nick clapped him on the shoulder. “O
llie, you’ve been inventing since I can remember. You’re a king hunter. You put it to good use as an assassin, but Cass is going to need you less and you’re going to need a way to fill your time.” Nick tapped the tin box. “This is it. Go to boring meetings about science and nature and what have you. You might like it and if not, you can always leave. They’ve blackballed three men just this year alone.”

  The Order of Good Fellows was getting rid of a few members, some in a manner that ruined them for London Society completely.

  It was an honor that the invitation had been extended to him.

  “I don’t want to go.”

  Nick leaned on the table. “Well, we can either talk about this or talk about the other thing.”

  Oliver’s tightened his stomach. “What other thing?”

  “You know.” Nick smirked. “That other gorgeous brown-eyed thing.”

  “Don’t say her name—”

  “Belle.” Nick laughed. “What is going on? We heard about what happened between you two when she announced she’d be marrying Dunst and then how you rescued her after. Leo and I would like to know if you intend to make her our sister-in-law.”

  “I don’t,” Oliver said. “But I do intend to find her a husband.”

  “You?” Nick sized his brother up. “What do you know about romance?”

  “Very little,” Oliver said. “But I think I know what sort of man Belle will like.” He’d been giving it great thought.

  Nick hopped up on the tall table and leaned on a knee. “All right. What sort of man do you see Belle with?”

  “A titled man.”

  Nick nodded, grinning.

  Oliver went on, “Someone with his own money so he won’t have the need for hers.”

  “Yes, I agree.”

  “He should be handsome but not too handsome. Definitely not a dandy.” He could hardly stand them.

  “Definitely not,” Nick mocked.

  “Someone with a worthy pursuit of his own so that he won’t get in her way. Someone who cares for people.” Belle should be able to focus on her charities.

  Nick grew serious, and Oliver thought he was winning him over. “And love?”

  “Aside from men like Dunst, Belle could get any man to fall for her.” It was one thing he wasn’t worried about. “But above all, what Belle needs is someone who will be obedient.”