How to Disgrace a Lady

by Bronwyn Scott

  Merrick took the empty chair across from him, acutely aware he’d not been invited to sit. He sat anyway and crossed a leg over his knee. ‘I am here to offer an honourable proposal of marriage to your daughter.’

  Folkestone drew a deep, irritated breath. ‘You’re not what I want for her, as you have been made aware on several occasions now.’

  Those were harsh words to hear to one’s face, but Merrick merely smiled to show the haughty earl he was not bothered by the rude comments. ‘Things have changed since then.’ That was putting it mildly. ‘I have come into a property, a modest estate near Hever. It passes to me upon my marriage. I would be able to give your daughter a home on my own terms.’

  There. Let that quash any concerns over fortune hunting. There was a slight flicker in Folkestone’s dark eyes. He had not known about the inheritance. It did make a difference, but only a slight one.

  Folkestone toyed with an obsidian paperweight. ‘A property is important. A man does not want to live off his in-laws’ largesse.’ What he meant was a ‘real’ man. ‘But there are other implications besides the practicalities of supporting Alixe.’ He gave Merrick a hard stare. ‘There are social considerations that cannot be swept away with a property.’

  ‘Such as?’ Merrick enquired in a blithe tone. He knew full well what Folkestone was hinting at, but he would be damned if he’d give way to implied meanings. If Folkestone wanted to point out his inadequacies, the man would have to do it in explicit terms.

  Folkestone’s face hardened. ‘Don’t play games with me, St Magnus. We both know what social concerns I speak of. Your relationship with your family is strained, to put it politely.’

  ‘That’s by choice, sir,’ Merrick said levelly.

  ‘You have no title of your own, nor any prospect of coming into one. She’s the daughter of an earl. Marriage to a second son is a step down for her, especially when you come to her with nothing.’

  Merrick stiffened at that. He’d not ever been a direct recipient of the negotiating process Alixe claimed to abhor. He could see why she despised it now. He was being sized up for his assets as if that was all that mattered. ‘Is my genuine regard for Alixe such a small thing, then?’ Merrick replied.

  Folkestone coughed at this. ‘St Magnus, your sense of “genuine regard” for a lady is legendary among the ton. You’ve held quite a few ladies in this so-called genuine regard and you’ve married none of them. It does lead me to wonder why you’d want to marry my Alixe. She’s the richest, of course. Perhaps that is what appeals to you?’

  ‘What appeals to me is her intelligence, her compassion, her beauty.’ Those were not things he could prove to Folkestone. How could he explain how Alixe made him feel? How did he convey that when he was with her, he was a better sort of fellow than he’d ever been. When he was with her, he didn’t miss his old life and its misguided revels.

  Folkestone set down the paperweight. ‘It seems to me that there are other women who might be glad of the chance to be recipients of your genuine regard and, in turn, save your newfound estate by marrying you. However, my daughter isn’t one of them. Even if I found your suit appealing and trustworthy, I would decline. As you also know, there is a very nice and legitimate proposal on the table from Mr Redfield, whose situation I find acceptable. He already has a manse. He doesn’t need marriage to claim his property and he’ll live nearby so that Alixe will be close to family. I think, under the circumstances, Mr Redfield is exactly the kind of grounded countryman Alixe needs as a husband.’

  ‘He has no title, no wealth of his own. You are holding me to a double standard here,’ Merrick argued. He could feel hope slipping away.

  ‘He is a self-made man, which is more than I can say for you. He started with nothing and from it has created something. I find I respect that. You, on the other hand, are the son of a marquis, with many options open to you. But you’ve chosen none of them.’ Folkestone’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘Then Redfield has truly fooled you. He may have fashioned something for himself, but at whose expense? How many women has he ruined or exploited to climb this high?’

  ‘None that I know of. The same cannot be said for the Greenfield Twins.’

  And that was that. Merrick heartily wished he’d never heard of the Greenfield Twins. His notorious wager was all over town and he hadn’t even done anything, technically speaking. He managed to exit the town house with a show of dignity, but his heart was sinking.

  He’d hoped Folkestone would have accepted his suit and allowed things to follow their proper course. It would certainly have avoided difficulties. He and Ashe had failed to turn up anything shady on Redfield. Whoever he was, the man had covered his tracks exceedingly well. That option had come to a dead end. The other option was exposing Alixe’s pregnancy. It would force Folkestone’s approval of the match, but the costs were enormous. Folkestone would never believe after such a revelation that Merrick had offered in good faith. There would always be doubt that Merrick had deliberately seduced her for her fortune and to claim his estate. Under such a cloud, what kind of future could he and Alixe expect to build?

  He said as much to Ashe at White’s in the quiet of the late afternoon. They had a corner of the main room to themselves. Most gentlemen wouldn’t put in appearances until after seven and the evening entertainments began. Merrick was glad for the solitude.

  ‘You have two choices,’ Ashe said thoughtfully, swirling brandy in a crystal snifter. ‘You can forget about her or you can marry her.’

  ‘Have you been listening? I don’t have Folkestone’s permission and she’s pledged to Redfield.’

  ‘Have you forgotten how to play outside the rules?’ Ashe shook his head ruefully. ‘Spare me the idiocy of fools in love.’

  He drank and swallowed. ‘You don’t need permission to marry her, you dolt. I’m talking about elopement. She’s twenty-six, for heaven’s sake, and you’re thirty. It’s not like you’re two green children come to town for the first time.’

  ‘There will be a scandal.’

  Ashe sprayed his brandy in a choking fit that brought a footman running to his side. ‘A scandal? You’re afraid of a little scandal now?’ He coughed. ‘It wouldn’t be your first and it certainly wouldn’t be your worst. This would be your most “decent” scandal, however, since it ends in the noble state of marriage.’

  But it wasn’t what he wanted for Alixe. He wanted to prove to her that he could be decent. He didn’t have to live surrounded by scandal and notoriety. Merrick St Magnus could be something more than the ton’s most charmingly wicked rake. He’d liked the man he’d discovered inside himself at Folkestone. He’d liked translating the manuscript, and building fair booths and exploring ruins. That man could build a life worthy of her.

  No, he wouldn’t embarrass Alixe with an elopement. A dash to Gretna Green in the dark would only confirm suspicions that he’d been hunting her fortune. A baby appearing early would be the icing on a very bittersweet cake. Society would dine out on the two of them for years. But Ashe had given him an idea. There was a way to decently marry Alixe, but for that he’d need two things: a special licence and her consent. He was certain he could get the former. He wasn’t as sure about the latter.

  Alixe sank gratefully on to her bed and kicked off her dancing slippers. The night had been beyond tedious. The best thing that could be said about it was that it had ended early. She was thankful. Her feet hurt and her mind had been in a constant state of turmoil since Merrick’s surprise visit the day before.

  He’d shown up that afternoon, too. He’d left chocolates for her, but apparently the focus of the visit had been to see her father. She’d been apprised of Merrick’s proposal over dinner that night before her father’s assurances that she’d be safely married to Redfield as soon as the banns could be called.

  That meant three weeks. Not very much time at all. Alixe reached up and began pulling pins out of her hair. She’d dismissed Meg, wanting to prepare for bed in private, a decision she might reg
ret when trying to get out of her gown, but not yet.

  If she didn’t act soon, she’d be married to Redfield and carrying Merrick’s child. She was growing more certain of it by the day. It was the stuff of Gothic novels or a theatrical drama. Her life had been so very ordinary, so very predictable and staid not that long ago. One fateful act had led to another and here she was, so far from the path she’d laid out for herself.

  But that path was devoid of love, of certain elemental human experiences. Yet the price of love was exorbitant and it came with no guarantees, not even the guarantee her love would be returned. Merrick loved her for now, but what of later? That very doubt had stopped her tongue at dinner, from declaring she preferred St Magnus over Mr Redfield, after all.

  Lost in her thoughts, Alixe struggled with the fastenings at the back of the dress, a summer night’s breeze catching her bare skin where the dress lay undone. She turned sharply towards the draught and stifled a yelp of surprise just in time. Standing in the doorway of the little balcony that led off her room with an air of casual confidence, shirt sleeves rolled up, cravat undone, was Merrick.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Alixe hissed in a hushed whisper.

  ‘That’s quite a greeting,’ Merrick said with his usual casual ease. ‘Not “how did you get here”? Or how glad you are to see me?’

  ‘It’s rather obvious how you got here.’

  ‘Obvious doesn’t make it easy. I will admit climbing up to your room is a bit ill advised. It will be a while before I try it again.’ Merrick stepped into the room, filling the feminine abode with his masculine presence.

  ‘No maid?’ He looked around for Meg.

  ‘No, you’re lucky,’ Alixe scolded. ‘What would you have done if she was here?’

  Merrick gave a cocky shrug, drawing her attention to the broadness of his shoulders. ‘She likes me. I wouldn’t have done a thing except let her go to bed early. It does look like you’re in need of some help, though. Perhaps I could stand in for your maid.’

  He swept the long skein of her loosed hair forwards over one shoulder, the feel of his warm hands against her skin, intimate and relaxing as they worked the remaining fastenings. ‘Lock your door, Alixe,’ he murmured at her neck once he had finished.

  ‘I locked it earlier,’ Alixe managed. She was already trembling for him.

  ‘Good, I want to look my fill of you.’ He slid the gown off her shoulders, letting it cascade to the ground in a spill of sea-green silk.

  That drew her out of her stupor. ‘You can’t mean to stay! Redfield is downstairs talking to Father.’

  Merrick chuckled, a warm soothing sound that reeked of his confidence. ‘Are you expecting him?’

  ‘No, of course not. I wasn’t even expecting you,’ Alixe retorted.

  ‘Then we won’t be interrupted. Stop worrying, Alixe.’ His whisper was at her ear, his kisses light on the column of her neck.

  She arched her neck to the side, giving him full access to it, startled by the glimpse of them in the vanity mirror. Merrick stood behind her, a veritable Adonis in the evening light of the room, his attire less than perfect, the mussed quality only enhancing his sensuality, his buttermilk hair a pale halo, his eyes devil-dark with desire. She barely recognised the wanton princess in the reflection as herself: her hair loose and hanging to one side, one shoulder of her chemise falling down her arm, the outline of her breasts visible through the thin material, Merrick’s hands just below them, tantalisingly close. It was a provocative image.

  Flustered by the sight, Alixe moved to turn into his arms, but Merrick held her fast. ‘Watch us, Alixe. Watch how good we are together.’

  And she did watch. It was wicked and yet riveting. Merrick pulled the chemise over her head, leaving her entirely unclothed. His hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs moving up and over the fullest part of them, caressing and stroking in a languid rhythm that had her leaning into him with a small moan of delight.

  But after a while, it seemed patently unfair that he should be clothed and Alixe turned in his arms. This time he permitted it. She stripped away the cravat and made short work of his waistcoat and shirt. He sat down briefly to pull off his boots and allowed her to slide his trousers down his hips.

  He was naked beneath the clothing and she revelled in the sight of him. The lamplight limned the fine sculpture of his chest, the square bones of his hips and abdomen. Alixe ran her hands over the flat of his stomach. ‘I think this is the best part of a man.’

  ‘Truly? I would have thought you might prefer other parts,’ Merrick said mischievously, moving her hand lower.

  Alixe grinned up at him. ‘I like this part, too.’ And she did. She liked that part of him very much. ‘Did you come here to seduce me?’

  ‘Most definitely.’ Merrick turned her back to the mirror, his voice husky with wickedness. It sent a shiver of anticipation through her, her need rising. ‘Brace your hands on the vanity, my dear, I will show you how I mean to seduce you.’ The moment of play was gone; he was all serious lover now as he bent her to him. ‘I shall be your stallion.’

  Oh, this was wickedness unleashed! He was hard against her backside and she felt her body respond, wanting him in her. Her gaze was riveted on the mirror now, watching him mount her from behind, watching him drive deep inside her, a warm hand splayed on her stomach to offer support. Again and again he drove until she could feel the surge of passion grow in its intensity, pushing them higher towards some enigmatic apex and then shatter like thin crystal against a wall. He fell against her in his completion. She could feel the pounding of his chest at her back, the heat of him wrapping her in the blanket of his body.

  He found the strength she lacked to guide them both to her bed. She nestled against the hardness of his chest, her head at his shoulder, his arm around her, drawing her near.

  How easy all this was with him. Being with him, naked and playing, sharing the intimate pleasures of their bodies, was entirely natural. She could not fathom how it would be with Redfield or another.

  ‘You were right when you said this was madness,’ Alixe said slowly after a while. She drew a tiny circle around the flat aureole of his breast.

  ‘We have a whole lifetime to work it out, Alixe, to see if it is truly madness.’

  Alixe shook her head. ‘It’s more complicated than that, Merrick. I know my father has refused you.’

  ‘Will you allow his decision to stand? I came here tonight, Alixe, for you. I’ve never been one for convention and tradition. I don’t need his permission. But I do need yours. There’s a special licence in my trouser pocket. I would come for you tomorrow night and take you to Folkestone and marry you at St Eanswythe. Alixe, will you have me?’ He was all seriousness.

  She could feel his body tense beneath her as he awaited her answer.

  ‘You don’t have to do this for the baby, it’s still too soon to tell,’ Alixe murmured, trying to stall until she could make up her mind. Did she dare risk it all on Merrick St Magnus?

  ‘Whether there is a child or not is immaterial to me. I came here tonight for you. I would have come anyway.’

  ‘Why?’ Alixe breathed, daring to hope.

  ‘Because, Alixe Burke, I have discovered that I love you. It’s not a discovery a man makes every day.’

  There could be no doubting him. The honesty of his confession brought tears to her eyes. ‘Well, that changes everything,’ Alixe managed, trying for levity.

  She felt him relax beside her. ‘I should hope so. But I still want to hear you say the words.’

  There in the darkness, Alixe gathered all her courage. She was a smart woman who’d thought much about what she demanded from a marriage and what she demanded of herself. She understood the world even though she’d chosen to shun it in the hopes of a better life. Her hero, St Eanswythe, had attempted the same. But St Eanswythe had died at twenty-six and Alixe Burke was going to choose to live. She whispered the two most important words of her life for better or worse.

  ‘Yes
, Merrick.’

  Chapter Twenty

  Alixe stretched, a long languid movement that started in her toes and went all the way up to her arms. She arched her back and let the morning sun bathe her in its warmth. Everything was right with the world for the first time in weeks. She pushed her eyes open. Today was her wedding day.

  Sort of.

  Today was the day she’d embark on the journey that would culminate in her marriage to Merrick. He was gone already. He’d left at dawn, waking her briefly for a kiss before departing out her window. But he’d be back tonight with a carriage. Twelve hours to wait. He would send instructions this afternoon regarding where to meet.

  A trill of excitement coursed through her at the prospect. She would simply disappear. After tonight she would no longer be Lady Alixe Burke. She would be Lady St Magnus. There was a certain fairy-tale quality to it; the self-proclaimed spinster with her shapeless gowns had captured the attentions of London’s most sought-after lover.

  Alixe blushed in the morning light, recalling the wicked passions of the night. She was most thoroughly ravished. She dropped a hand to the flat of her stomach. Child or not, she was ready to take on whatever lay ahead. She did not fool herself that marriage to Merrick would be perfect. There would be social shoals to navigate. The circumstances and haste of the marriage would be much talked about. She did hope timing might be on their side. The Season would wind down in a couple of weeks. People would return home to their country houses and forget about the events of the Season. By next spring, their marriage would be old news and there’d be juicier bits of gossips to occupy society.

  Society wasn’t the only hurdle they’d face. There would be her family’s outcry to contend with as well. Her father would be furious that she’d gone against his efforts to see her married to Redfield. Her mother would consider this a blow to her social status, having a daughter married to a scoundrel. She didn’t know what Jamie might think. She hoped he might forgive her. She hoped he wouldn’t blame Merrick for this. This was her decision. She was going to have a try at love and see where it led.