“Bloody hell, I am a failure,” he whispered and another log splintered as if answering in Satan’s own laughter. The door pushed open. He turned his head to see his mother standing in the flickering light.
“So, you are down here hiding while that beautiful creature is waiting? I thought more of you, my boy.” She walked in and stood at the arm of his chair.
Landon refused to rise. “Go to bed, Mother.”
“Where is that man London heralds as Lord Heartless? The man, who according to the papers, has broken his share of hearts throughout London?”
“He does not exist, have you not heard?” he growled, wishing she would go away.
His mother snorted. Without a word, she lifted the glass from his hand. “You have finally done the very thing our noble ancestors would have applauded. You should be relieved, for I am proud of you.”
“I doubt that my ancestors would care. As for the other part, I am your child; you must think the best of me.”
Her lip curled. By thunder she was laughing at him. “My child, when I think of you, it is usually the worst.” To his surprise, she raised a hand and brushed an errant curl away from his forehead. “This is not the way she should be taken. No bride wants her groom to come to her as a drunken sot.”
“I am not drunk—yet.” He stared into the fire. “She did not want a season.” The left side of his mouth twisted up in bitter irony. “She said she would not be bargained for like a broodmare in a bazaar. I’ve done just that.”
“Perhaps. But many a maid has been sold on behalf of family fortunes for far less. She has gained entry to a long noble bloodline and will be compensated for her…shall we say, duties.”
“Compensated,” he hissed. “Tell me, will you inspect the bedsheets tomorrow to make sure the deed is done?”
“No need.” His mother turned, but her smile was vacant. “Servants talk. You can imagine the waggle of their tongues if you came away without the proof from the game of love.”
“A fine mess.” He heaved himself from the grasp of the comfort of his chair. “Then I shall go like some knight-errant to slay this dragon of virginity.”
His mother grabbed his arm. He glanced down, surprised at the strength in her fingers. She was not as feeble as she made others believe. His gaze moved with deliberate slowness toward her face. When their eyes met, she spoke. “Do not be a fool, Landon.”
He paused.
“A jewel of this kind should be nourished. If you go in like a raging bull, you will frighten her away. Your marriage will be one of fear. This fresh country lass will retreat back to Holly Grove and I fear I shall never see another grandchild to carry on the Montague name.”
“I have an heir.”
“True, however, I should like one to hold the name Montague even before birth. Alexander will always be first in line, but a spare would seal the continuation of the line that dates back to England’s founding.”
“All this for history, Mother?”
She pressed her hands against her gown. “No. While history dictates our line must continue, there is something in this girl that frightens you. I am intrigued for I think Providence may have set this in motion, and I would like to see how it will end before I die.”
“Providence.” Landon couldn’t help the chuckle that mocked his words. “You will never die, Mama. As long as there is a Montague, England stands on the throne.” He watched her nod. Looking down he brushed something from the dark brown of his vest. “Very well, I shall go do God’s holy work.”
“Do not mock the Lord, Landon.”
He lifted his hand. “I shall not. I shall go to her and unveil the mysteries of love with the gentleness of one who has wooed her for months.”
“Very well, and tomorrow, I will take care of making sure she has what she needs befitting her station.”
He nodded and walked toward the door. Hand upon the knob, he turned. “Mother, with your permission, I should like to give Juliet a gift. That simple band seems so plain. I wish to reset the Broadmoor Sapphire in a fine ring.”
The countess paused, her head tilted for a moment off center as she thought. “Of course, very appropriate, my dear. The color would reflect the blue in her eyes. Now go, for she has been too long alone.”
***
Landon crept up the shadowy stairs to the room where Juliet awaited. Passing no one in the hallway, he still could feel the eyes of the staff behind every door and curtain. His mother was correct. They would know, and stories would pass between servants in hushed whispers of the market or in the taverns if he failed in his duties.
He paused at the door. Would she be in the bed, covers drawn toward her chin shivering as if she’d caught a chill? He drew the back of a hand across his lips and wished he had not consumed so much brandy. Both were like lambs to the slaughter. Her father begging him into marriage, and her needing the money he’d accumulated to survive. He had only taken one virgin in his life and that turned disastrous.
“I shall not hurt her,” he whispered and grasping the door eased it open. He blinked against the change in light and looked in surprise as she rose from the couch. “Lady Juliet, I did not expect to find you up?”
“I fear I could not sleep.” She laid the book down on the marble of the table. “I found a book to read. I-I hope you are not offended.”
“On the contrary, I am glad to find something that excites my new wife. What tickled your interest? I fear most of the classics are housed downstairs in the library. I shall make sure you know where that is located tomorrow.” He walked toward her and with the table between them, paused to pick up the leather bound copy. Turning the spine, he glanced at the gold stamped wording. “Oliver Twist.” Shyly she dropped her chin so their eyes no longer met. “Rather hard reading before bed is it not?”
“I enjoy Mr. Dickens’s works, it seemed rather encouraging to see another whose life was undergoing more misfortune than my own.”
He nodded and lay the book down on the table as an awkward silence stole across the room. He wished for something witty to say. Dampening his dry tongue, he opened his mouth to utter the first thing that came to his mind. “You looked nice, tonight.”
Her eyes widened.
He grimaced at her reaction. How lame his comment seemed to be.
Looking away, her arms moved to encircle her body. “Thank you, although a few thought otherwise.”
“Alexander is too bold for his age. I will speak to Mother about this.”
“It is all right, besides he is yet a boy. A very frightened boy,” she added. “Who thinks his place in his father’s household has been threatened.”
“Alexander has nothing to fear from you.”
“I know that. You know that. He has yet to learn. I will strive to let him see that I shall not steal his place in the line of succession.”
“You are too good-hearted. Drink?” He moved toward the sideboard out of habit.
Her head jerked and her eyes took on a hollow, wounded look. Landon wanted to slap himself. Her father’s death no doubt turned her against spirits. He was behaving foolishly. “Sorry. I did not think.”
“Please, feel free to enjoy. It is your habit after all.” She waved her hand at the chest against the wall holding a decanter of spirits.
Her words cut him to the quick, proving again he was unworthy of such a fine pearl. “Uh, no. I had a small glass downstairs. Waiting.”
She looked at him with a befuddled expression. He wished he’d worn a coat, something with pockets so he might have something to do with his hands. This will never do. He could not explain he wished to give her time to ready herself for his arrival. Instead, he said, “My mother seems quite taken with you.”
“That is good to hear. I enjoyed her company.”
“Indeed.” If Black were here, he would be in corner, doubled in laughter. Lord Montague, rake extraordinaire, reduced to a few rambling words. He sighed and raised his hand to sooth the hair on the back of his head. “I am not good at t
his, am I?”
“You’re not?”
He could see disbelief mirrored in her eyes. Sheepishly, he lifted his shoulders with a shrug. “I’m afraid I have let you down.”
Her arms loosened and she relaxed, letting them fall to her sides. “Perhaps, it is the situation we find ourselves embroiled in.” She stepped to the side of the couch. “Would you join me, Lord Montague?”
Seizing his chance, Landon responded, “Of course.”
He moved to the other side of the settee and waited until she sat down before lowering his body to the cushions. Funny, in all his years, this must have been the first time he’d ever indulged. The fabric cool and crisp, not yet bent from repeated use. Perchance that would change? Maybe tomorrow, he would take his leave after supper and spend the night up here with her. His gaze shifted across the space of another cushion to the woman beside him.
Tonight, her hair lay in soft waves down her long, slender back. He wondered if the texture would be like silk, smooth and luxurious. Dare he? Taking a deep breath, he leaned back and extended his left arm along the sofa back. He heard her take a slight breath of air as she clasp both hands tightly against her knees, so cleverly concealed beneath her wrapper. Tonight, no gossamer fabric was more alluring than this country maid’s proper cotton gown. His glance moved toward her face, caressing each curve, pausing to watch the lift of her breasts as the fabric pulled tight, an obvious sign of her nervousness.
“Juliet,” he whispered her name and with a tender touch reached out and let his fingers brush against the loose gold. The shoe slid to the other foot. A rush of desire roared through his veins to settle heavily in his groin with the decadent need to feel the silk sweep against the hairs of his chest. “Did you enjoy dinner?”
She tucked her chin slightly toward her chest and those blue-green eyes turned to gaze at him. “Your cook should be commended for a beautiful meal.”
He smiled. “I will relay the lady’s wishes.”
There was a smile upon her lips, yet he detected an unknown strike of steel in her reserve. His hands stopped in mid twist of a curl about his finger. “Juliet, is there something wrong?”
“In truth, my lord, I believe there might be a misunderstanding that needs to be addressed before this marriage goes forward.”
Her words brought a tightening to his lungs. For a moment, Landon struggled to breathe. “Please, explain to me what you mean.”
“I admit I jumped at your proposed arrangement. You—you must think me foolish, accepting so quickly.” Her fingers plucked at the edges of the satin ribbon that held her wrapper closed.
Landon slid across and covered her hands with his. “Never, my dear. You were left in a rather delicate position and not one of your making. I dare say, you had not thought of your own needs, had you?”
She shook her head. “My staff, those that you saw the other day, had been with the family since my birth. They are Holly Grove, Lord Montague. I wished to preserve their jobs.”
He gave a gentle squeeze of her hand. “And you did, my fair Juliet. You showed more honor than any man in such a similar situation might have done. But fear not, you are now safe.”
“Ah, yes, safe.” She dampened her lips and slowly brought her gaze to his. “I must admit, when we first spoke, you seemed keen on coming to me to produce an heir.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Really? I find myself surprised, for you already have procured an issue.”
Landon moved a thumb in soft, rhythmic circles across the satin heel of her thumb. “Alexander is seven years old, Juliet. I admit in my youth, I was brash and careless. When his mother presented him to us, I took my responsibilities seriously. I have raised him as a full Montague and legal heir, but it would be nice for Alexander if he did not have to assume the full weight of sole ownership of the Montague name. I wish for other children conceived with the benefit of a legal marriage.”
“I see.”
He watched her eyes shift from side to side as she processed the information. Lifting his left hand, he pushed back the curtain of gold silk and ran his knuckles over the pulsing beat of her neck from earlobe to shoulder. “Such a beautiful neck,” he whispered and leaned close to press his lips against the throbbing vein. Beneath the tender flesh, her heart took a second beat. He raised his head a fraction of an inch away from the skin. “If it eases your conscience, I have not had another lover in several months.”
She pulled her hand away and rose. “Tell me, this child, Alexander, he was not conceived by marriage to his mother?”
He stared. “I am not sure I understand?”
“Really?” She turned and laid her head to the side. “You are not sure if you married his mother? Did someone stand in for you? Did you pay for a second?”
“No.” Landon rose and walked to the other side of the couch. This was not the way the conversation was to go. He was not about to drag the dirty laundry of Alexander’s birth with Juliet. Not now, not until he was sure she would understand the circumstances. He swallowed and brought a hand to the juncture of his hip and counted to ten before turning to face her. “No, Juliet, what I meant was I would like to have a child while married to you. Perhaps we should table this conversation for another time. It is our wedding night.”
“Ah, and there is the rub, for you see, there is no need for you to come to me. You have an heir.”
Landon blinked. “Madam?”
“The need for my body to serve as a host for your heir is moot. So this part of our business arrangement will not be, shall we say, consummated.”
“I…I do not understand.”
Juliet garnered her thoughts, then spoke. “You presented yourself falsely, sir. Under the circumstances, I have no other alternative but to remain you wife in name only.”
Mouth slack, Landon could only watch as she turned and moved into her bedroom. “Lady Juliet,” he mumbled as the door clicked. In two strides he stood at the entryway, hand upon the knob only to listen to the key turn. His heart began to race. He had been turned out of his rightful place in her bed. “Open this door,” he demanded. “Juliet, I am your husband.”
“Good night, Lord Montague.”
“Open this door!” His voice rose as he shook the knob. Swirling on his heel, Landon made for the door. He could find solace elsewhere. A game of cards always brought a willing body. Exiting the room, he slammed the door and the walls trembled.
Chapter Seven
Landon lifted the chips to his right and pondered his wager. He’d come to the club hoping to lose the anger but tonight the cards seemed to be against him. He let the markers fall from his fingertips, and they clicked as they hit the table. The gambling house, which lay a stone’s throw from the theater district, boasted the brightest company. Yet, tonight it all seemed dull. Even the conversations of the men at his own table seemed trivial.
He wished to be someplace else. Someplace familiar, where a soft, warm body lay wrapped in satin. Her body hidden by homely cotton and those silken blond curls flowing across a pillowcase. Hurt twisted in his chest. Gathering a handful of colored chips, he tossed them onto the pile. “I’ll wager another twenty pounds.”
“Too rich for my blood.” The man to his right set his cards upon the table.
“You’re mind is elsewhere tonight, Lord Montague?” the man directly across from him asked as his fingers fanned the cards he held.
“Yes, Scarborough.” He sighed tiredly. “I have matters on my mind.” Landon picked his cards back up and stared at them. Of all the men to be gambling with. Landon’s jaw twitched at the irony of the situation.
“Hm,” Lord Scarborough mused. “I must say, after the announcement, I find it surprising you are here at all.”
“Announcement?” The peer to his left spoke up and lifted his glance to Landon. “Lord Montague, is there something you’ve not told us?”
Landon gave Scarborough a dark glance. “No, nothing.”
“Really, Montague, you can’t keep it a secr
et for long.” Scarborough’s cheek twitched. “Have you not heard, sir? Lord Montague sits across from you a married man.”
“Be quiet, Scarborough.”
“Marriage? You?” Lord Crawford’s eyes widened.
Landon had no choice but to agree. “It appears so.”
“Why man, are you here? If the matter was left to me, I would be beneath the sheets exploring Venus’s prize.”
A chorus of rough laughter followed and Landon found his sensibilities shaken by the rowdy remarks. “What goes on behind the doors at Broadmoor is not up for discussion.”
“Forgive me,” Lord Crawford replied.
Suddenly the game seemed less than worthwhile. Landon tossed his cards upon the table and rose. “I am done. Send my portion of the pot to the church.”
“Would it sweeten the deal for you to stay if the stakes were higher?” Scarborough asked.
Landon shifted his gaze across the table.
Scarborough’s face darkened. “Shall we wager a night in cupid’s arms? Surely if you are not interested in completing the deed….” He shrugged.
Landon’s hand came down flat upon the table, rattling the chips and drawing the eyes of all in the room. “Sir, you have gone too far. Take heed of your tongue that you do not find it cut from your mouth to wither upon the floor.”
Scarborough’s chest expanded and slowly he rose from his chair.
“Gentlemen,” Crawford called. “Let us not say things in haste that can not be rescinded.”
“Lord Montague, is something amiss?” A voice near to his right drew Landon’s eyes away from his adversary. Tall, broad-shouldered, his hair still the color of ginger, the Duke of Norfolk did not appear near the sixty years he had lived.
“No, nothing of importance, sir.” Landon watched Scarborough’s lips lift in victory.
Lord Heartless Page 6
