Pain of The Marquess: (The Valiant Love Regency Romance) (A Historical Romance Book)

by Deborah Wilson

  “What do you mean? If not to help, why did he tell you?”

  “He wanted me to have Mr. Crow arrested. He wanted Crow out of the way so he could find the book. He never cared for the children.” The sorrow was thick in her voice.

  His hand found her cheek in the dark and he wished he could see her eyes as he spoke. “I understand how you feel, but you should be aware your death helps no one. You are most effective while breathing.” He needed her.

  “I must do what I can,” she said. “Even if that means—”

  “I’ll not hear anymore of it.”

  “Clive—”

  He cupped the back of her neck. “Don’t argue with me.”

  “It’s not right. You go out and put yourself in danger for me every night. Am I not to do the same for you. For others?”

  “That is correct. You are to be good little wife and remain far from danger.”

  “That is not who I am, Clive.”

  Yes, but if something happened to her? Who would care for him then?

  It was a selfish thought. She cared for him. She’d cared for him for years. If she died, he’d have no one. He didn’t love her, but he did need her. She was important. Like water and air. He didn’t think he could live without her.

  “While in captivity, Mr. Goody taught me something,”

  “What did he teach you?” The words held the edge of anger, at Mr. Goody not Clive.

  Not yet.

  “He taught me how to tie a rather good knot and how to keep someone where he wanted them.”

  She stiffened. “Clive, if you so much as dream of tying me up—”

  “Be good and I won’t have to.”

  “I won’t be bullied. Not by you or anyone.”

  He rolled until he was on top of her. “If you’re awake then there’s something better we can be doing with our time.”

  She gasped and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Not in the company of your friends. This is the Duke of Astlen’s home.”

  “He and his wife will likely be doing the same thing soon if they already aren’t.” Clive pulled the sheet away.

  She gasped again. “Where are my clothes?”

  “I took them off.” He settled between her legs and moved lower and lower. His mouth grazed her leg and spread kisses up to her knee.

  She shook violently. Heat poured from between her thighs and engulfed him. “You c-can’t,” she whispered, even as she gripped his hair. She didn’t pull him away. “They’ll know,” she cried.

  “Not if you stay very quiet.” He teased her knee with his mouth again. “Can you be quiet, wife?”

  He waited for her reply. Long seconds passed and she said nothing. Then her hand tightened in his hair.

  It was all the answer he needed.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  3 2

  * * *

  Irene was at breakfast with Clive, his friends, and their wives, who were all but Irene’s friends when a footman came in and handed her two missives. For the past half hour, they’d found reason to laugh and distract themselves from the problems that were taking place, but the moment the servant gave her the missives, Irene felt the tension climb in the room.

  “What does it say?” Clive asked just when she’d decided to ignore it and enjoy the moment. She hated that it was ruined.

  She looked around the table and noticed every eye was on her. “It’s likely nothing,” she said as she opened the note.

  The first was from Cecilia and included an invitation to Lord and Lady Vissex’s party. The note detailed that it was their son that Cecilia and Harry hoped to marry Winifred to. They were begging her to attend. She would, though she still thought the girl should weigh her options and complete her first Season without getting engaged.

  But then again, who was Irene to speak? She fell in love and married the man she’d always wanted. It had taken some time, but she’d known her heart.

  “What does it say?” Clive asked.

  “Something good, of course,” Kent replied.

  Irene looked up to see the earl studying her. “It is an invitation to the party.”

  “And you’d like to go?” Clive asked.

  She turned to her husband. “Yes.” Then she recalled that she needed his permission. He was her husband. “Can we... go?” It felt strange asking him for anything.

  He grinned as though aware of her thoughts. “If that is your wish.”

  She relaxed and returned his smile. Aware that they were being watched, and also aware that those who watched were also wearing smiles, she opened the next missive.

  She read it and her eyes widened. She gave it to Clive and stood. “Forgive us, but we must go.”

  Clive stood as well.

  “Is everything all right?” James asked. “Is this about the assailant? The book?”

  “Mostly.” Clive grabbed Irene’s hand. “Mr. Perez wishes to meet. Apparently, Lord Cassius has come down from Scotland and is in his office as we speak.”

  “I’d like to see the man when you’re done,” Kent said. “You let him know to come by the bank.”

  They left together.

  Clive held her hand during the ride yet kept his gaze out the window. He’d been the same way yesterday. Then she’d thought him worried about the bank and George’s future. Now, she wasn’t sure.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  He looked at her and his face relaxed. “Nothing, I’m just watching the road.”

  “For what?”

  He shrugged. “Anything. Everything.” The stave— which she’d never thought to be a weapon until he’d used it— stayed in the carriage if it was not at his side. “Anyone who wished you harm, mostly.”

  She sighed. Annoyed. He’d stayed up again most of last night and then he got up to eat with the others that morning. Now he was watching the street. “You’re exhausting yourself.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You need to rest.”

  “I’ll rest later.”

  She looked down to where their hands were joined. “Perhaps, we should sleep in separate beds tonight.” She hated the idea, but she was desperate and worried. “That way you won’t be tempted to…”

  “Don’t even think to finish that statement.”

  She looked up, surprised by the malice in his tone. “You’re not taking care of yourself.”

  “There’s no need. You take care of me very well.” He winked.

  Her face heated. “I’m being serious.”

  “I’m being serious as well. Irene, until this is over, I’m going to have trouble sleeping when I know few others are watching you, so you may as well give me pleasant thoughts to think about while I’m awake.” His gaze was far too hot for Irene to think of anything but what they’d done in bed last night… and that morning, so she said nothing for the remainder of the ride to Mr. Perez’s office.

  His secretary, a cheerful young man, showed them in.

  Mr. Perez was not there.

  Her cousin was alone.

  Lord Cassius Kemp stood in the corner of the room and bowed to Irene and Clive before he straightened. They did the same.

  “Cousin Irene.” He looked at Clive with piercing pale gold eyes. “Lord Fawley.”

  “Clive will do,” Clive said. “We are family now.”

  Cassius face twitched, but he gave a stiff nod. “You should call me Cassius. Some people call me Cass. I will respond to either name.” Then he looked at Irene. “I hear you’ve been having some trouble. I came to offer my assistance.”

  Irene took in the new Duke of Van Dero as she always did whenever she came face to face with him. Striking was the word for him. From his stature to the way he held himself, so constrained, it was as though he were trying to keep himself from taking up all the space in a room and — failing, it was hard not to stare.

  It was odd, but not in the way Irene was odd, since he’d been designated as handsome by one of the gossip rags. His strange was different. It was in the turn of his h
ead. The gestures he made. Like Clive, he had otherworldly good looks, but unlike Clive, Cassius didn’t compel people close. Instead, she always thought it best to keep her distance from him.

  If his eyes weren’t gold, she’d have added him to the list of men who could possibly be her assailant. That was how desperate she was to find him, but those eyes were unmistakable. They were not blue like her attacker. They were the bronze of skin after spending far too much time in the sun.

  “Thank you,” Irene said as she finally managed to speak. “How did you hear about my… trouble?”

  “The papers reach Scotland eventually,” he said. His expression, his voice, nothing was hot or cold about it. It just was. “I read about what happened at the shipyard. Mr. Perez has informed me about the silk merchant and the Tillerman Factory. I believe I understand what happened.”

  She frowned. “What happened?”

  “Mr. Perez made a mistake. There was a set of papers for me and a set of papers for you. You got the wrong half of your father’s businesses. You received my half and I received yourself.”

  Clive put a hand on Irene’s shoulder and spoke the question she’d almost asked herself, “How do you know?”

  “Because, there is no corruption in any of the businesses I have. I’ve had my man of business look through the matter. Some lace investments, a school that doesn’t sell its children to the highest bidder, and the bank. Nothing more. All clean. All perfect for a woman.”

  She thought over his words.

  Cass went on. “Think about it. All of the businesses you have are dirty. Smithfield Market. Merchant Ships. The shipyard. These are not things for a lady at all.”

  “He’s right,” Clive said. “I’ve been thinking this for some time now..”

  “But the corruption,” Irene said with narrowed eyes. “What would you have done if it had been in your hands?”

  “Hired someone to clean it up,” he said. “Though I’m sure your father thought otherwise. It’s no secret that I am not like others.” He insulted himself and yet remained completely indifferent.

  Irene closed her mouth. Clive looked at her, but she didn’t think it the time to explain. “Where is Mr. Perez?”

  “I have excused him for this meeting,” Cass said. “He looked tired and embarrassed.”

  Irene was certain Mr. Perez wouldn’t have liked Cass’ assessment of him even if it was accurate.

  He stepped forward and pointed to a paper on the table. “I did have his secretary draft up papers. We can switch if you wish.” He looked at Clive, since Clive was her husband.

  Irene knew the reason. She knew it made sense, but some anger rose within her either way.

  Until Clive looked at Irene. “It’s up to you. What do you want to do?”

  Irene’s eyes widened. Her husband was more than a little authoritative. More than a little demanding. She almost feared he saw her as nothing more than a helpless woman, and yet at that very moment, she wanted to do nothing more than kiss him.

  But she didn’t. This was a professional meeting.

  Therefore, she turned to her cousin and promised herself she’d find a good way to thank her husband later. There were some naughty things she wanted to try. She would try them tonight.

  As she stared into Cass’ eyes, Irene could already feel the burden leaving her shoulders. It was tempting, but… “I can’t. The children need me.”

  Cass blinked and then straightened. “Very well. I wanted to keep the bank anyway.”

  “Did you?” Irene asked. “If that was the case then why were you willing to switch?”

  “Because you are my cousin. You told me not to help you before. I wanted to see if recent events had changed your mind. I wished to make your load lighter.”

  She smiled. “That’s nice of you, Cass.”

  “It is logical,” he countered. “I am the Duke of Van Dero. I believe Society expects a certain amount of chivalry from me.”

  “Of course,” she said, understanding.

  Clive looked as though he didn’t understand at all. “So what now?”

  Irene had an idea. “Give me the school and I’ll give you everything but the orphanage.” It would leave her with only the children’s projects and the money in the bank, but that was more than enough. She looked at Clive, not because she needed his permission, but because she wanted to know his thoughts.

  He shrugged and nodded. Then he smiled. “Whatever you want.”

  Oh, he’d be getting everything he wanted tonight.

  Then she looked at her cousin. “What do you say?”

  “I’d be a fool not to accept such an offer,” Cass said. And Cass was not a fool.

  After the secretary drafted new papers, everything was signed and then Clive said, “Lord Ganden wishes for you to meet him at the bank. I don’t know if you’ve heard what happened recently.”

  “Sirius keeps me informed.” Lord Sirius Hayes was the bank manager. That Cass used his first name meant they knew one another. “I’m going there after this.”

  “Where are you staying?” Irene asked.

  Cass blinked and then named his hotel.

  “No, you must stay with us,” Clive said. “As you said, you are family.”

  Cass’ body stiffened. “Thank you, for the invitation, but—”

  “It would be improper for you to say no,” Clive said. “Your cousin has been through a great ordeal. We should band together at a time like this.”

  Cass turned his eyes to Irene as if asking if Clive’s words were true. For a moment, the gold orbs held emotion. They begged her to call Clive a liar.

  She had to stop herself from laughing in her cousin’s face. “Please, Cass. Come stay with us.”

  It was long seconds before he agreed. “Thank you for your generous hospitality. I will not be in the city for long.” He frowned when he said city. Cass liked the country. He always had.

  They said their goodbyes and then left.

  “Where to?” Clive asked in the carriage.

  “Home,” Irene said. “There is something I need to do there.” She made it sound as though what she needed would only take a few minutes.

  Clive nodded and thankfully didn’t ask what it was she was planning.

  Because she didn’t know if she’d have been able to hide the fact that all she planned was seduction.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  3 3

  * * *

  Clive pulled in a long breath and then fell back onto the bed. His heartbeat felt as though it pumped from his head down to his toes. Breath and heartbeats. They were things that should come naturally to the body. They were acts one didn’t need to think about. The body just did it.

  Yet he knew that if he didn’t concentrate, he would die.

  Irene would have murdered him with sex.

  “Are you all right?” she asked as she climbed off him and came to rest at his side. Her expression was troubled. She placed a hand on top of the ones he had rested on his chest. “I didn’t… hurt you, did I?”

  Hurt? He would hurt if they never did this again. Clive had engaged in activities that society had call debauchery, but until now, all else had been child’s play. This was debauchery, and yet it wasn’t, because they were married.

  He shook his head at Irene as emotions battered at his chest and cut off his breath once more.

  Her eyes widened. “Should I open a window?”

  He grabbed her head between his hands. “Listen to me. No, I need to sit up for this.” He did and then resumed his hold on his wife.

  She looked nervous. Her hair fell around her.

  Staring into her eyes, he said, “You are the most beautiful woman in the entire world.”

  She let out a small puff of breath and then sucked a greater one in. “I believe you.”

  “Excellent.”

  “At this moment, I believe you think that. It’s because of what we did or rather, what I did to you.”

  He shook his head. “No. You’re not listeni
ng to me. You are everything I could ever desire. You fulfil me. You are beautiful.”

  As he stared into her dark eyes, he saw the question and it irritated him. Why wouldn’t she just believe him?

  “Are you all right?” she asked again. “Should I open a window?”

  “If I die, this is the way I wish to go.”

  That got a smile from her.

  It truly was the very best way to die, but what an embarrassing story it would be for her to tell.

  She’d killed her husband with sex. The gentlemen would be knocking at her door before his body got cold.

  “What’s wrong?” Her smile faltered.

  “I was thinking about the possibility of me dying in bed and all the men I’d have to haunt to keep them from touching you.”

  She smiled and laughed as though he were joking, but he wasn’t. She was his forever. The clergymen had lied to her. Death would not part them. Nothing would. He’d never let her go.

  When she was done laughing, she tilted her head in his hands. “Thank you for letting Cass stay.”

  He dropped his hands to her waist and pulled her closer. “You were right. Cassius is different. Why?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “He’s always been that way. I like him though.”

  “I can believe that,” he said. “You both take no issue in speaking your mind.”

  She laughed again. She was gorgeous. Surely, he’d noticed it before.

  He gathered her hair in one hand and pulled her in for another kiss, but she couldn’t stop laughing. Even as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her laughter went on.

  He didn’t try to stop her. She’d been far too serious during the last few weeks, maybe even the last few years. He was glad she’d gotten rid of the businesses. The money had made Clive far wealthier than any man had a right, but he was glad it was gone. He’d never wanted it. All he’d wanted was Irene.

  He stiffened at the thought. He meant to protect Irene.

  All he’d wanted was to protect Irene, he reminded himself. He wasn’t in love with her. This wasn’t love. This was just his desperate need to connect with someone and he did it well with her.