To Love a Wicked Lord

by Edith Layton

  The other guests gaped at her.

  Pippa paled. “Grandmother, no!” she exclaimed in shock.

  She felt a light pressure on her arm.

  “Grandmother, yes, I think,” Maxwell said into her ear. “It may be the only way to convince her that times are changing and she no longer belongs here. Don’t worry. Even if he hates us, the rude gentleman won’t hurt anything but her feelings here and now. I’m certain he doesn’t want to make an incident, at least, not yet.”

  “But we are at war,” she protested.

  “And the first shot hasn’t yet been fired,” he said. “Let’s go see what ammunition the fellow has.”

  Lady Carstairs detached herself from Maxwell’s arm, and marched after Monsieur Denton. Maxwell and Pippa followed a few paces behind her.

  “Monsieur, if you please,” Lady Carstairs cried out as she bustled closer to him. He stopped and turned around.

  “Madame,” he said, making a curt bow. “What is it you wish of me?”

  “My Lady,” she corrected him.

  His smile was not amused. “But no. You are not in England now. Here in the new France, we no longer use titles, madame.”

  Lady Carstairs looked taken aback. But she rallied. “Monsieur,” she said, ”since you are so outspoken, you are the very person I must speak to. My friends and our hosts believe you mean them no good. They are preparing to leave France. As someone who is friends with the First Consul, I feel I have the right to ask your intentions toward them and the thousands of English persons now on your soil.”

  Monsieur Denton’s lips curled. He drew himself up and looked at her with contempt. “I was at the reception where you saw Bonaparte, madame, and I also saw that he spoke only to your so-pretty companion, not to you. And at that, only a word of praise for how she looked in her gown in his colors. We know what you have been saying too, and excused you much because your wits are obviously overturned by age. But we are no longer amused. The First Consul doesn’t know or care for you. As for your friends, they are wise to leave here with all speed. You would be as well. I like this house. It will be mine. I like your ruby red tiara too, madame,” he added maliciously, eyeing it, “and if you stay, it will be mine as well, whether I pluck it off your head while it is still on your shoulders, or not.”

  “There’s not a chance of that, Denton,” Maxwell said, stepping forward, glowering at the man.

  Denton looked up at him. He nodded. “True, monsieur. Not now. But soon, eh? And you know it. If you have a care for the women you are with, send them home. If you have a care for yourself, leave as well. We know who you are and what you do. But be aware, France is for the French once again. There is no point in further conversation. Good evening, and bon chance. You will need it.”

  “Hush. Oh, hush,” Pippa said as her grandmother lay shaking in her arms.

  They were in the carriage on the way back to their hotel, Lady Carstairs weeping all the way.

  “What a fool I was,” that lady said through her tears. “I don’t know what got into me. You won’t let that dreadful man get near me, will you? He hasn’t even seen my diamond tiara. Oh, I want to go home!”

  “And so we will,” Pippa said in soothing tones. “How soon, do you think?” she asked Maxwell, where he sat in the carriage opposite her.

  “As to that, my brother and I will seek all possibilities,” Maxwell said. “He’s already off trying to find us passage. But you, Phillipa, are you ready to give up your hunt?”

  “I’ve been ready for weeks now,” she said stiffly. “I told you that. Nothing has changed my mind. Hush, Grandmother, didn’t you hear Lord Montrose? We’ll be leaving as soon as we can. There’s nothing to fear anymore.”

  But there was, Pippa thought as she sat cradling her grandmother. Because she knew that as soon as they returned to England, she’d say good-bye to Maxwell, and likely never see him again. That frightened her perhaps even more than her grandmother feared strange Frenchmen wrenching her jewels and her head away from her.

  Maxwell was a man the likes of whom she’d never seen before and knew she’d never see again. He acted a fop when he had to, and as a spy all the time. He was handsome and clever and made her laugh or tingle whenever he wanted to. But withal he was a truthful man, with morals. He desired her but didn’t love her. He wouldn’t marry her, neither would he seduce her, and she mourned that more than she’d mourned Noel’s desertion. Or did she?

  She no longer knew. She and her grandmother had changed on this trip and she no longer knew herself. But she vowed not to be a fool. She’d say good-bye to Maxwell and smile as she did it, and then would have the rest of her quiet life to remember, and think about where she’d gone wrong, or right.

  The carriage stopped, and Maxwell helped Lady Carstairs out and into the hotel. It seemed she didn’t care whose arms she wilted into.

  “She’s had a shock and fright, but no more than that,” Maxwell told her maid. “Does she have any sleeping powders?”

  “Yes, my lord,” the maid said. “We don’t travel without them. I’ll give her some and make her comfortable, don’t you worry. There, there, my lady,” the maid said as she helped steer Lady Carstairs up the stair, “don’t shiver and shake so. We’ll have you in bed and comfortable in no time.”

  “I wish I could say the same to you,” Maxwell told Pippa as they went down the stair after leaving her grandmother in her maid’s tender care.

  Pippa held her head high. “That you do not,” she said. “I’d have to lie with a dozen men before you thought me ready for you.” There was nothing more to lose; she was weary and frightened too, so all she could speak was her utmost resentment.

  He stopped on the stair. “Touché,” he said after a moment. “A direct hit. But surely not a dozen men?”

  Absurdly, she felt herself smiling. “Why not?” she said airily. “I dashed my reputation by coming here even more than Noel did when he deserted me.”

  They reached the bottom of the stair and he stopped and looked down at her, his expression serious.

  “It’s not your reputation but your heart that I fear for,” he told her softly. “You don’t know how you feel about me, Pippa. You met me at the wrong time for the wrong reasons, when your heart was wounded. I refused to hurt you more. Is that so cruel of me? For all we know you may go home and meet a stranger you care for, or find an old friend that you didn’t realize you cared for. You’re in no condition to fall in love now, and for that matter, never for such a fellow as I am. I was a determined bachelor and may still be. But I’m as turned about in my head these days as anyone. We’ll take you home and then we’ll see.”

  She nodded and looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

  “But Pippa?” he said in a strained voice. “This much I can tell you. I want you so damned much my bones ache. We have to wait no matter how I feel. Things have happened too fast all around. We’ll leave this place and let time do its work, shall we?”

  She stood and stared at him. The hotel was quiet, nothing stirred except for her pulse as she gazed at him. He was so close and yet so distant. A mad idea came to her, but this was a mad night and she was at the end of her reason.

  “No,” she said. “Who knows what cruelties time may bring? Tonight should be our night, if you want me. There’s no one about. I’m so very alone. I don’t care about tomorrow. Can you be with me, tonight, now, please?”

  A sad smile appeared on his lips. “Oh, Pippa,” he said on a long exhalation. “I want to.” He ran a hand through his dark hair. “But I can’t for too many reasons,” he said. “You may choose to ignore it, but I always think about the future. Again, what if my usually perfect timing fails? You still don’t completely understand? That confirms my resolve. Forgive me in advance, Pippa, but the truth is as they say: a gentleman leaves before he comes. I grant they don’t say it in places where you go, and I should be shot for saying it to you. I don’t want to be scientific. And if you want to be treated as a carefree, care-for-nothing fema
le who is up to scratch, it’s a thing you must fully understand.”

  Her eyebrows descended; she looked less shocked than puzzled.

  He chuckled, reached out and tucked a strand of her hair back behind her ear, and then stepped away as though he had touched flames. “As I thought. What it meant was that if we made love, I would have to leave you before my moment, so that you wouldn’t have to bear the weight of my mistake,” he explained. “Neither of us needs or wants a forced marriage. And a lady can’t raise a child by herself, nor would I want you to.”

  Her eyes went wide.

  “Ah, I see, you do understand,” he said. “The thing is that superb a lover as I am, it’s possible I might not be able to stop myself; I’m very moved by you. And even if I did, what if we were discovered? What if…there are so many reasons why pleasure must wait on reason tonight that I can’t say them all.

  “Go to sleep, Pippa,” he said softly. “This isn’t your last chance at love, whatever you think now. Your emotions are overwrought, as are mine. I’ll see you in the morning, and with any luck, we’ll soon leave this country together and then…and then, who knows? Good night,” he said and hesitated. Then he dragged her into his arms and kissed her.

  She clung to him, needing his warmth, his strength, and his need of her.

  But then he disengaged and quickly stepped away. “Good God, Pippa. I keep making the same mistakes, don’t I? I’d blame it on Paris and springtime, but we both know it’s how I feel about you. I’m leaving. We’ve neither of us anything to regret except for missed chances, and they’re easier to bear than chances taken and misused. I have work to do tonight. I have to find us safe passage home. The sooner we leave, the sooner we’ll be safe, and hopefully in our right minds again. Good night.”

  She whispered good night and watched him leave. She shook her head, wondering with despair how many times she’d belittle herself by offering what wasn’t wanted.

  “Never again,” she whispered to herself, “I vow it.” Then she slowly turned and went back up the stair.

  “It’s not the packet but it’s not an old tub either, and there’s room for all of us,” Maxwell said as they stood on the dock and watched Lady Carstairs being helped aboard a spanking white, freshly painted yacht. “It took a few days to arrange it, and I know you were anxious, but even so I consider us lucky.”

  They stood on the dock, his coat of many capes being blown by the freshening wind. Pippa had tied her bonnet on, but the breeze flung her skirts around with abandon. Duncan stood apart from them, facing the wind, smiling as it tossed his auburn hair about.

  “It’s a neat sloop, and won’t take more time than the packet would,” Maxwell said. “In fact, we’ll get home faster. And it’s a sturdy craft. But we go to Dover, not Folkestone. A carriage will be waiting for us when we land; we’ll make haste to your home. I’ll make my bows to your grandfather, and then see what life holds in store.” He smiled down at her.

  Her heartbeat quickened but she refused to show it. He’d already refused her direct offers twice, she’d promised herself there would be no more embarrassing moments between them. But still he was hinting at something, she was sure of it. And even if he weren’t, they would have hours to talk on the way home. The recent past might have been terrifying, but the future seemed cold and lonely. She took comfort in the fact that they’d be together for the journey across the channel and all the way home.

  After that? He was right. She knew she needed time to know herself again and see if she really wanted him, or only a man who was strong and able in order to restore her sense of worth.

  “Your grandmother already seems calmer,” he said, watching the servants leading the lady to the deck. “Leave your troubles behind you, as she’s doing.”

  He took her gloved hand and they walked to the ramp leading to the yacht.

  “Ho! My lord Montrose!” a voice called.

  They both turned to see a young, harried rider galloping down the strand. He slipped down from his horse as soon as he reined it in, and ran to Maxwell. “Just in time, a message for you, my lord,” the lad panted, holding out a roll of oiled cloth.

  Maxwell took it, opened it and unfurled a letter. He scanned it quickly. His smile turned to a frown, and then to a smile again.

  He looked up. “Duncan!” he said excitedly as his brother strolled over to see what the fuss was about. “New information. I can’t go home yet. I need you to see the ladies home safely.”

  “You need me to help you,” Duncan said sternly.

  “Not in this case,” Maxwell said. “Bostwick and Sir Charles will be meeting me. They’ve discovered a clear trail. Do you know any better fellows for the job? No, I didn’t think so. I hope to get the matter done with quickly. You see Pippa and her grandmother safely home, brother, and I’ll see you soon.”

  He turned to Pippa. “I dislike leaving you to this churl, but he’s good at what he does. I have business to attend to. I’ll see you when I can.”

  “But isn’t France dangerous for you now?” she asked in confusion.

  He grinned. “For m’lor’ Montrose, perhaps, mademoiselle. Not for who will be traveling through France. Farewell,” he said and with a jaunty wave, strode back to the shore with the messenger.

  “He didn’t seem very sorry,” Pippa said to the breeze.

  “He is, and he isn’t,” Duncan said. “When he’s on a scent, the world fades away from him. Come,” he said, taking her arm. “I promised to protect you. Don’t want you blown into the sea before I even get a chance.”

  She went with him, but turned her head to see Maxwell striding away, wondering if he’d ever return, or if he did, if he’d ever return to her.

  Chapter 22

  Your grandfather would like to see you in his study, Miss Phillipa,” the butler said as Pippa entered the house.

  She nodded, took off her sunbonnet, and bought some time by using the looking glass in the hallway to smooth her hair. It was midday. They’d had visitors since she’d come home in May but none of them had concerned her. Now it was July, and though her hopes had dwindled, they weren’t dead. There were two carriages in the drive that she’d never seen before.

  She walked slowly, in trepidation, and tapped on her grandfather’s study door.

  “Enter,” her grandfather said.

  She pushed open the door to see that the room seemed filled with men. There were three standing to one side, and two to another, but her eyes instantly arrowed to only one. Maxwell didn’t look very much like the man she’d last seen on the dock in France months ago. He wasn’t dressed like an immaculate gent, but casually, like a country squire or a sportsman. His face had lost its gentleman’s pallor and had been sun touched to golden hues. His hair was longer; he wore a scarf around his neck instead of an immaculate neckcloth. But it was Maxwell, however he dressed and whatever he looked like, and she couldn’t look away from him.

  She thought his face lit with sudden joy when he saw her, but now he stared at her with no expression. She took a step forward toward him, her eyes never leaving his.

  “Phillipa,” her grandfather said. “These gentlemen have found your fiancé.”

  She blinked. Her spirits plummeted. She was still a fool. He wasn’t here for her; only to show her he had done his job. That was why he hadn’t greeted her, why he didn’t smile at her. Instead, he dragged his eyes away from hers and looked to his right. She followed his gaze.

  “Phillipa,” a hesitant voice said. “It is I. Noel.”

  And so, she realized, it was. He hadn’t changed. He looked wearier and subdued, but it was Noel Nicholson. He didn’t look half as well as she remembered, though. He was stockier than she’d thought he was. His eyes were dark brown, but there was no lively sparkle in them, and she realized there never had been. His hair was slicked back, and black, not brown; his face was amiable, but not thrilling. In all he was just a young gentleman with nothing to dislike in him but nothing particularly memorable about him either. She s
tood in shock. Whatever he was, he was here now.

  “I’ve returned,” he said.

  “Under duress,” one of the other gentlemen growled. “We tracked him across England and off across the Continent, but here he is.”

  “I was going to come here,” Noel told Pippa, his eyes pleading, never leaving hers. “As soon as I’d cleared up matters of business, as I said in my last note to you. It took longer than I’d thought, Phillipa, and I was too harried to write to you again. But I was never going to abandon you.”

  The man next to him opened his mouth to speak again, but Maxwell held up a hand, and he fell silent.

  Pippa stared, but said nothing.

  “Phillipa,” Noel pleaded, “say you forgive me. Say something, please.”

  She held her silence for another moment. “Why did you go? Why did you come back?” she finally asked.

  His eyes darted from side to side. “If only I were alone with you,” Noel said desperately. “You’ll hear many stories. But you know me. What I need to know first, for the sake of my soul, is if you still love me and wish to be with me, Phillipa. Will you still marry me?”

  The men in the room looked incredulous, some made sounds of protest. But Maxwell help up his hand again and stared intently at Pippa, awaiting her answer.

  She didn’t look back at him. Instead she kept staring at Noel. At last, she shook herself as though she was coming out of a deep sleep. She grounded herself by setting her feet apart and placed her hands on her hips like a battling washerwoman.

  “I never loved you, Noel,” she said angrily. “No more than I now believe you loved me. I came to see that. I’m glad you left when you did and gladder still that you stayed away because if you hadn’t we’d have been wed, and what a fiasco that would have been for me. I was lonely, you were clean and educated and civil, and I thought my liking for you was love. Now I know it wasn’t.