She had slept with her enemy, the man who had killed her brother.
A wave of shock and self-loathing hit her so hard that she turned cold to her bones. The sickness rose in her throat. She was lying naked in a bordello with a man who was her sworn enemy. She had allowed him the most impossible intimacies with her body. She had lost her virginity. She was ruined.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“FARNE.”
Alex Grant’s tone was colder than the polar ice, his gray gaze hard as flint. In fact, Garrick reflected ruefully, he had had a warmer welcome from Spanish guerrillas than he was getting now from Lord Grant. Which was hardly surprising. He had comprehensively ruined the reputation of Grant’s sister-in-law and plunged the family into outrageous scandal. The only mystery was why Grant was wasting any time at all in speaking to him rather than simply putting a bullet through him.
“A glass of wine?” Alex asked, gesturing to the decanter that sat on the rosewood library table. “Or perhaps—” his gaze appraised Garrick’s face keenly “—we should make that brandy?”
“Thank you,” Garrick said. He felt a tiny amount of tension slip from his shoulders. So they were to be civilized about this. With a man such as Grant, who had allegedly wrestled a polar bear single-handed and had successfully saved his crew from certain death trapped in the Arctic ice, one could not be sure. Grant was a gentleman, of course, but Garrick was all too aware that he had broken every last tenet of honorable behavior and deserved no clemency.
“I cannot call you out,” Alex said precisely, as though reading Garrick’s thoughts. He strolled across to the decanter, poured for both of them and handed Garrick his glass. His gaze was still as cold as the polar sea. “Please do not misunderstand me,” he continued. “The idea has some appeal.” His gaze went to the pristine white bandage about Garrick’s left wrist. “Though I would wait until you were recovered, of course. Killing a wounded man is not my style.”
Garrick prudently kept quiet. He was not at all sure that Grant was joking.
“However,” Alex Grant continued, in a level tone, “there has already been one scandalous duel between our two families. I could not countenance distressing my wife with another.” He took a mouthful of brandy. “And then there is Merryn to consider. I do not believe that for me to kill you would help her in any way.”
“I would like to marry Lady Merryn,” Garrick said. He chose his words carefully. Others would not serve. “I want her. I wanted her from the first. I will always want her…”
He took a deep breath. There was nothing civilized about his thoughts or his desires or his need for Merryn Fenner, particularly now that he had taken her exquisite body once—twice—and burned for more.
He shifted in his chair. He knew that it was not simply desire that drove him, strong as that was. He had seen Merryn’s courage and her grace under pressure. He had held her in the darkest night and protected her from harm. He had saved her life and she had saved his. They were bound together now more tightly than they had ever been.
Regret raked him, opening old scars. He was not worthy to marry Merryn. He knew it. What could he give her, with his flawed honor and his equally damaged soul? Yet now he had to offer her marriage or be branded even more of a dishonorable scoundrel. He was trapped. There were no alternatives.
“I am aware,” he said, “that my behavior has not been that of a gentleman.”
“Not remotely,” Alex agreed, with an expressive lift of the brows.
Garrick gritted his teeth. Grant was right of course. He had lost control with Merryn, a circumstance that had never, ever happened to him before. He had been sworn to protect her and he had done so, but then she had kissed him and the desire had exploded between them and shattered every tenet of duty by which Garrick had tried to live his life. Grant was right. He had transgressed the code. He was angry with himself for it; he felt full of violence and it disturbed him. He had not felt like this for years, since the time Stephen Fenner had died. He had thought that such powerful feelings, such dangerous actions, were behind him. Yet Merryn had smashed his cold facade and brought every emotion burning to new life.
He wanted to see Merryn. It felt as though she alone could soothe the demons in him. Yet he knew it would not be that easy. He had no notion if she would even agree to see him again, let alone marry him. The hideous scene in the brothel had haunted his thoughts for an entire day and night. Merryn, throwing on her ruined clothes in a desperate frenzy of embarrassment and horror, looking at him with loathing and disbelief.
I regret every moment of what we have done and I hate myself for it…
Garrick flinched at the memory. Everything had disintegrated into tawdriness and scandal, spilling corrosive misery over an experience that had been profoundly sweet and intense. For a brief moment they had built something exquisitely tender. And then they had lost it again.
“I make no excuse,” Garrick said now, aware of Alex’s steady gaze on his face. “I take full responsibility for my actions. It was unpardonable in me.”
There was a silence. “Inexcusable, yes,” Alex said. “Inexplicable, no.”
Garrick blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
Alex shrugged. A small smile played about his lips. “Make no mistake, Farne,” he said. “I do not condone in any way what happened. But I am also no hypocrite. People died in that flood. You and Merryn had been trapped for hours, facing the possibility of death together. She told us that you saved her life. Twice.” He grimaced. “Such circumstances strain the self-control of even the strongest.”
Garrick felt a little more of the tension ease from his body. “That is more than generous of you,” he said, “but still I make no excuse.”
“Of course,” Alex said. “And I would not expect you to in all honor. So…” His tone warmed a little. “The question is what we are to do about this.”
Their eyes met. Garrick realized that he had passed the test and was glad. He was starting to like Alex Grant. Owen Purchase spoke highly of the man. Under other circumstances he imagined that they might have become friends.
“I am sincere in my desire to wed Lady Merryn,” he said, “and not simply because of the scandal. I have the greatest admiration for her.”
A small smile played about Alex’s lips. “I see,” he said, and Garrick had the disconcerting feeling that Alex saw rather more than Garrick had intended.
Alex put his glass down with a businesslike snap. “You speak well, Farne,” he said bluntly, “but you had best cut line with me. I imagine that Merryn is the last bride you would have sought under normal circumstances.”
“That’s true,” Garrick said, deciding to be equally blunt. Regret scored him again. “I did not seek to wed at all,” he said slowly. “I am not a good catch for any woman.”
Alex looked taken aback. “Surely you jest.”
“I do not mean materially,” Garrick said. “My marital history should be sufficient to dissuade any woman of sense—” He stopped.
“I’m not sure how much of that can be blamed on you,” Alex said, very dryly. “Though I would not dream of speaking disrespectfully of your first wife.”
There was a taut silence.
“As for Lady Merryn,” Garrick said after a moment, “I am responsible for this scandal and as such I accept I have no choice other than to offer marriage to her.” He looked up to find Grant’s gaze fixed on him. “As I said, I have the greatest admiration for her. I like her. Very much.”
“Evidently,” Alex said even more dryly. He fixed Garrick with a not-unsympathetic gaze. “I do not think she will accept you, Farne.”
“Because she hates me for killing her brother,” Garrick said.
“It is a not-inconsiderable stumbling block,” Alex agreed pleasantly. “Although…” A thoughtful note entered his voice. “I do not think she hates you, precisely.” He shifted. “Her feelings, no doubt like your own, are confused. If you want her, though, you may have to force the match. Joanna and I will not stand in
your way. We consider you the lesser of two evils.” He flashed Garrick a smile that robbed the words of offense. “Without marriage Merryn is utterly ruined and only you can save her from that. Joanna will accept that for her sister’s sake.”
Garrick frowned. Alex’s words were not unexpected but they were unwelcome. “I’ll not force Lady Merryn to wed me if she is unwilling,” he said. “That would be the action of a scoundrel.”
Alex shrugged. “Your scruples do you credit but how else can you put matters right in the eyes of the world, Farne?”
“I’ll persuade her to accept my hand,” Garrick said.
This time Alex actually laughed. “Persuade? Merryn? Surely you know her better than that? She is without doubt the most stubborn member of the Fenner family, and that is up against some very stiff competition.”
“She is also strong and brave and spirited,” Garrick said.
There was an odd expression in Alex’s eyes. “Not the qualities that most men seek in their wives,” he said. He paused. “I did not know Stephen Fenner,” he added obliquely, “but my wife tells me he was…a charming rogue.” He met Garrick’s gaze very directly. “Joanna was older than Merryn when it all happened, of course. She sees things a little differently. And although she loved her brother she was not in the least blind to his faults.” His tone changed. “You could consider telling Merryn exactly what happened. Intimate relationships have a better chance of succeeding if they are based on the truth.”
“One day I hope to be able to tell her everything,” Garrick said, “but in the end the fact is that I killed Stephen Fenner. Perhaps the details make no odds.” He thought about Merryn’s pain and disillusion on learning the truth. He wanted fiercely to protect her from that. But Purchase had been correct, Alex was correct. Everything had changed now that he and Merryn were to wed. He did not want a marriage based on deceit. He thought of the letter that he had sent a bare two days ago and prayed for a swift and just outcome.
Alex gave him a very penetrating look. “Only you can be the judge of what is right,” he said. He held out his hand to shake Garrick’s. “Good luck, Farne,” he said. “I suspect you will need it.”
MERRYN LAY IN HER BED watching the ripple of the winter sun across the floor and listening to the rattle of carriages in the road outside. A fire burned in the grate and beside her on the table sat a cup of cold tea. She had lain there for hours, all of the previous day, all night and now into the morning. She had not slept at all.
She could hear Tess and Joanna whispering just out of earshot.
“Merryn is totally ruined.” She caught the edge of Tess’s words. “Everyone is talking scandal, Jo. It is the on dit in all the papers this morning. Caught naked in a brothel in bed with the Duke of Farne! I can’t believe…” Her voice faded away. Merryn watched a sparrow that had perched on her windowsill. It was looking through the glass, its head tilted to one side, as though it, too, was full of questions and gossip.
There was a swish of silk and then Joanna appeared beside the bed. Her troubled blue gaze took in Merryn’s untouched cup. She sat down on the edge of the bed.
“You’re awake,” she said.
“I haven’t slept,” Merryn said.
“No,” Joanna said. “I imagine not.”
Merryn waited. She felt odd—exhausted and yet wide-awake, her mind strangely blank and yet unable to rest.
Tess had followed Joanna across the room and was standing looking at her with a very odd expression in her eyes.
“I have to hand it to you, Merryn,” she said. “Joanna and I have done many a scandalous thing between us but you…” She shook her head. “I confess myself shocked.”
“Thank you,” Merryn said.
“Although you do look well on it.” Tess picked up one of Merryn’s curls and ran it through her fingers. “How shiny the beer has made your hair! I shall have to see if I can order a barrel from the brewery. Anyway…” She remembered what it was she had originally been going to say. “You will be glad to know that although everyone knows that you spent the night with the Duke of Farne in a bordello, no one outside the family has heard the shocking news that you have been working for Mr. Bradshaw. That is one secret we have managed to keep.”
“Thank goodness,” Joanna said ironically. “No lady works for a living.” She looked at Merryn, a frown puckering her brow. “Mr. Bradshaw tried to blackmail us, you know. He threatened to expose the truth about you if we did not pay him.”
It was the first time that anything had pierced the lassitude that had Merryn in its grip and she shot up in bed, almost spilling her tea. “What? Tom tried to extort money from you?” She looked from one sister to the other. “What happened?”
“I threatened to shoot him,” Tess said, with considerable satisfaction. “He reconsidered.”
Merryn slumped back against the pillows, shocked and bitterly upset. Quite evidently she had misjudged Tom Bradshaw. She had felt so close to Tom, united in camaraderie, fighting for justice. Or so she had thought. Clearly Tom had been working for something quite different. Treacherous, deceitful Tom…
She remembered Garrick telling her that Tom was corrupt and she felt hopelessly naive. She closed her eyes for a second wondering if all her judgments were so faulty. Today she was no longer sure of anything.
Joanna patted her hand. “I am sorry, Merryn.” She smiled at Tess. “Would you give me some time with Merryn alone, please, Tess? I think there are some matters we need to discuss.”
Tess nodded. She gave Merryn a spontaneous hug, which brought the tears prickling Merryn’s eyelids, and went out, closing the door softly after her. Merryn turned to look at her eldest sister. Joanna looked much the same as ever, stylish to a fault, although there were dark marks beneath her eyes that suggested that she, too, might have had a sleepless night. Merryn felt surprised by her sister’s self-possession. She had expected Joanna to be hysterical, to rail at her for her behavior and for the shame and dishonor that she had brought on the family. Merryn had been accustomed to thinking both her sisters shallow but now, looking at Joanna’s face, pale but perfectly composed, she was obliged to admit she had made a mistake, and about Tess, too.
“How do you feel?” Joanna asked expressionlessly.
“Very odd,” Merryn admitted. She felt sore today, not just from all the cuts and lacerations that her body had sustained in the flood. There were other aches, other soreness that was the result of Garrick’s lovemaking. The changes in her body made it impossible for her to pretend it had never happened. She felt different, aware of her physical self as she had never done before. It was odd and disconcerting and yet at the same time there was a wicked undertow of excitement and possibility about it that only served to confuse her further.
She ached more deeply, too, in her heart and soul, with a rawness that was so profound it made her want to cry. She knew she was still tired and that she was suffering from shock, but then there were other hurts that could not simply be intellectualized or explained away. How could she have done what she did with Garrick Farne? How could it have been so glorious in the moment, how could it have given her such dizzying pleasure, such excitement, such new and stunning awareness, and yet be so painful to recall now? And how could she forget it, as she had sworn she would, when she had thought about nothing else in the long darkness of the night when she had lain awake and remembered the press of Garrick’s body on hers, the sense of him within her, the way that she had felt possessed and completed and utterly claimed as his?
Merryn fidgeted as a wave of heat rolled through her, making her stomach melt with a fiery longing. She had never been troubled by physical desire before she had met Garrick. She had read about lust, studied the differences between Eros, passionate and sensual desire, and Agape, deep, true love, and had thought how interesting it was and how clever language was to be able to separate and define the two. She had looked on it all as an academic exercise and had not felt anything but intellectual curiosity. But now she burned. S
he burned for Garrick and to learn and explore all those wonderful sensations she had only just discovered. It had been like a door opening into a richly colored fantasy world. She wanted to run through that door and greedily grasp after every new discovery.
She hated herself for it.
A wave of shame and self-reproach tumbled through her, making her feel physically sick.
You lust for the man who killed your brother…
“I am sorry, Joanna,” she said. “I am sorry that I deceived you about working for Tom Bradshaw.”
She saw Joanna frown. “It made me wonder,” Joanna said, “whether I really know you at all.” She fixed Merryn with her big blue eyes. “You have been working for Mr. Bradshaw for several years, so I understand. When I thought you were attending lectures or scientific talks you were undertaking assignments from him.”
“Not always,” Merryn said, feeling defensive. “I have done a great deal of study as well.”
Joanna swept on as though she had not spoken. “I used to imagine you as so unworldly and intellectual. I thought that I had to protect you.” She gave a short laugh. “Do you remember when John Hagan threatened to destroy us all if I did not become his mistress, and I went to Alex for protection? I did that for you as well as for myself, Merryn. I thought I had to care for you! It turns out you were nowhere near as naive and defenseless as I had thought.”
“I think,” Merryn said, with painful honesty, “that I have been extremely naive.”
Joanna’s gaze considered her. “We shall come to that in a moment,” she said pleasantly. “For now, please permit me to get this off my chest.” She drew a deep breath. “When I was abroad and thought you safely staying with friends you were apparently undertaking other assignments for Mr. Bradshaw. Indeed, I am wondering if any of your friends actually exist! Last night, when you did not return home, we sent to a Miss Dormer’s house because you had said you were attending a concert with her. We found that Miss Dormer did not live at the address you gave.” She looked at her sister and Merryn’s heart did a little dive to see the hurt and disappointment in Joanna’s eyes.
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