Even as he thought it, his heart protested and called him a liar.
Irene nuzzled his neck, completely unaware of the emotions that were spinning out of control. “I love you.” Her voice was soft. She said the words often enough. Sometimes, she’d said it loudly. Sometimes it came at the end of a laugh. Often it was like this, when her body went limp after their bouts of pleasure.
And it was always those times when Clive could feel the response pushing at the base of his throat.
He should say it, give her what she wanted to hear, but he didn’t want to lie again.
She leaned away and met his eyes. Peace encompassed her eyes and her easy smile. “It’s all right, You’ll say it back when you’re ready. You’re just having trouble forming the words.”
Could she truly read his thoughts? “Why do you think that is?”
“Because your mother abandoned you, and you fear me doing the same.”
His hand, still threaded in her hair, tightened. Then he released her. His stomach turned. “She didn’t abandon me,” he said, even though he thought otherwise. “She was there.”
“She was there, but she did nothing to protect you.”
Clive got out of the bed and turned away. “Sometimes, Irene, you should learn to hold your tongue.” He walked to the window but was mindful to keep his nudity out of the view of the street. “You should rest. I’ll stay up.”
Moments later, his disobedient wife had her arms around him. She pressed her front into his back. She was nude as well. Her voice was soft. “I thought you liked my tongue.”
The sensual words burned at him and fed the embers of lust that seemed to exist for her exclusively. He said nothing, however. He didn’t want to give away just how much her words had affected him.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I love you. I got carried away.”
He turned around then and wrapped his arms around her. He couldn’t stay mad, not with her. “My mother is a subject I’ve never done well with. It’s complicated.”
Irene said nothing, but he could feel it. Something burned at the back of her throat. It wanted to come out, but she was leashing herself, holding her tongue. For him.
He bent and kissed her hair in thanks. He really didn’t want to talk about his mother. “But I do know one thing.” He tilted her chin up so she could meet his eyes. “You are going to be a wonderful mother.”
She smiled. “You just want me to do that tongue thing again.”
He chuckled. “You’re right.” He scooped her up from the floor and walked over to the bed, intent on letting his wife have her way with him.
∫ ∫ ∫
3 4
* * *
Clive looked down at his pocket watch again and then frowned. His mother should have been here. He was at the tearoom, at the table they enjoyed, since it offered some privacy in the corner. His mother was late. She’d been late before, but this…
He stood as someone he recognized came into the building. The need to run was all consuming. Clive almost did, but then Lord Edmund caught Clive’s gaze and started toward him.
It was over.
Before Edmund could speak, Clive knew it was over.
His stepfather had barely changed in the last thirty years. There were creases around his gray eyes and thin mouth. He’d neither gained nor lost weight. The devil kept him well preserved.
Edmund took his seat. “Your mother isn’t coming.”
Clearly.
Clive’s heart raced. He lowered himself in his chair. “Where is she? How did you stop her from coming?”
Edmund lifted a brow. The pin in his cravat twinkled in the light. “I wrote a note on your behalf, told her you decided that you could no longer meet. Your wife would be occupying you for some time. Then I encouraged her to spend the rest of the season in Bath. I’ll be joining her in a day. We need some time alone.”
Clive’s stomach fell. He gripped his stave. “Why am I not surprised? You never do anything like a regular man. Instead of just telling her she couldn’t see me, you go and make it look like I don’t wish to see her and then you come and tell me the truth.” His anger burned so hot that Clive was sure he’d have internal scars after this.
“Why wouldn’t I tell you the truth?” Edmund said. “I need your cooperation if she ever asks. Also, you both knew better than to meet behind my back.”
“She’s my mother—”
“But I forgave it... until I learned that you wed in my house.” Rage burned in his stepfather’s eyes.
Clive was seething. “It’s my house—”
“Very well,” Edmund said. “If it is yours then take it. Your mother and I will live on the street.”
“I’ll take my mother. She can—”
“She’ll never leave me.” Edmund grinned. “It’s been more than thirty years and you’ve yet to figure that out? You can’t do for her what I do for her. I make her feel complete. You were always little more than a burden. I relieved her of the stress of you.”
Clive lifted the stave as he spoke. “It’s my money you live on.”
“You’d be nothing without me,” he said. “I taught you to be tough and take what you want.”
Clive leaned forward and whispered, “You taught me to be a criminal.”
“Enough.”
“To my own family.”
“Enough, I said.” Edmund looked at the stave and even knowing what Clive could do with it, stared at it as though it were nothing more than twig. Then he looked at Clive and humor made his lips curve. “Planning to use that on me?” He could hardly wait for that. Clive had tried to fight Edmund in the past and no matter how good Clive was, Edmund had proven to be better. He had no limits. He’d been the one to teach Clive how to use it as a weapon. All for his own gain.
He wondered if that was how the footmen had learned their own skills.
Clive lowered his walking stick.
Edmund poured himself tea. Had Clive known he’d been coming, he’d have poisoned him. “If you wish to see your mother, you know what you must do.”
“I’ll never submit to you,” Clive told him. “I know what that would entail.” He’d be stealing again, not because Edmund needed the money— though he did— but because he enjoyed it and didn’t want to do it alone.
Clive often thought it a mental sickness that Edmund had, the impulse to take what others had even if it was of little value, but he didn’t want Edmund to have grounds for his actions. He was a grown man and he made his own choices.
Edmund sighed and put his cup down. “I know you won’t submit. Not unless I force you.” He stared into Clive’s eyes. “I thought getting Lady Irene’s hairpin was the way. You remember the night you told me what you’d done, don’t you?”
Clive had been drunk and he’d gone to Edmund, because he’d been the only person he thought he could tell about the stolen object. A thought crossed his mind. “You’re Mr. Smith.”
“Not me, but yes, I hired him. Once I noticed you taking interest in Lady Irene, I thought I’d found a way to get my son back. I can only imagine how unpleasant it will be once she learns the true reason you stole it.”
His son. He was only his son when he was stealing. Otherwise, Clive was nothing more than a coin purse, a means for Edmund to live the life of a dandy. When he wasn’t stealing, he was with Clive’s mother. Clive thought the man loved the control he had over Angelini more than the woman herself.
Edmund assumed Clive’s attentions to Irene had been about love. Why did everyone assume so? Would Edmund had been able to control him with the hairpin? Before? No. Now? Definitely. Thankfully, Irene had the hairpin back. Anything else would be hearsay. She loved him. She’d believe him if he told her it wasn’t true, wouldn’t she?
He didn’t want to test those waters, but he wouldn’t allow Edmund to think he had any sway over his marriage. “Stay away from Irene.”
Edmund examined his now empty cup and Clive wondered if he’d take it with him before he lef
t. “I don’t know. I think I should get to know my eldest son’s wife.”
“I’m not your son. Approach Irene and I’ll cut off the money.”
Edmund stilled and looked at Clive. “You’d allow your mother to starve to death.”
Would he? “Starving would be her choice. She could live with me or one my siblings if she chose.”
“It would be on you if she died.”
Clive shook his head even as old guilt and responsibility rose within him. Edmund had been telling him that for years. “Stay away from Irene.”
“Stay away from Angelini,” he said. “And stay out of my house unless invited by me.” He stood. “Good day, Clive.”
* * *
Irene laughed as Cass gave her a look that begged for a rescue. It was subtle, the expression of fear as he held two-month-old Gabriella. Nora’s youngest daughter was beginning to fuss but hadn’t yet built up the irritation to do so fully.
Nora, who, like the other wives, was also overcome by laughter, finally had mercy on the new duke and took the girl from Cass. “You did very well. You’re going to be an excellent father.”
Cass’ expression was intense dread, which only made the other women laugh harder. He could have been with the other men in Marley’s study, but Irene had encouraged him to come with her to the drawing room and he’d obliged. It had been so many years since she’d shared her cousin’s company. They’d ate dinner together last evening, but Irene’s concentration had been on Clive mostly.
Lucy’s son Alvin was walking now but using the edge of the couch for leverage. His tiny steps seemed intent as they started in Cass’ direction at the other end of the couch.
As horror filled Cass’ eyes, the women laughed again.
Just before Alvin’s chubby hand could touch him, Cass stood. “I should go downstairs to the study.” He seemed to have seen the error of his ways and was now trying to retreat.
Irene stood. “I’ll walk with you.”
They left. Cass was not silent as they moved into the hall.
“You had that entire scene planned, didn’t you?” he asked.
She chuckled. “Not the entire scene.”
“They laughed at me.”
“They like you,” she countered.
He looked at her. “Did they tell you that? Did they say that to you personally or are you using your feelings to interpret what you believe to be true?”
She touched his arm. “I don’t need to use my feelings. I am going on my experience with these women or rather women in general. If Nora didn’t like you, she’d have never given you her baby to begin with, neither would she have said you’d be a good father.”
He stared at her. “That makes sense. Mothers protect their offspring.”
Irene nodded in agreement but noted the stress had yet to leave his shoulders or his eyes. “What is it?”
“I’m the duke,” he said. “I’ll have to have children to carry on the title. It will be my duty. It will be expected of me.”
Was he just starting to realize that? “Yes, that is true.” Then another thought came to her as they started down the stairs. “Would you like some help with finding a wife?” The very idea excited her.
But he shook his head. “No, I…. No. It’s just… the letter I received from your father gave me very little to go on. Mostly, he wanted his companies to stay in intact. I will see what can be done about that.”
“My father wrote you a letter?” she said.
He nodded. “He must have known how I was. It laid out everything I was to do, which was everything in my power to make the world respect my title..”
Irene’s heart raced. “Did he mention anything about a book?”
He shook his head. “No. I didn’t see anything about a book.”
“Did you receive a book?”
“No.”
They stopped at the office door.
Irene asked, “Was there anything strange in the letter at all?” Anything that could lead them to the Book of Affairs?
“No, but I can give you the letter if you desire.”
“I do desire,” she said.
He reached into his pocket and handed it to her.
She frowned. “You keep it on you.”
“Irene, I have no idea what I’m doing. Yes, I keep the letter from one duke to another duke on me.”
She put the letter into her pocket. “Ask Marley for help. He’s a better duke than my father was.”
He blinked. “I will do that right now. Excuse me.”
Irene stepped back and Cass closed the door behind him, keeping her on the other side.
∫ ∫ ∫
3 5
* * *
Irene heard the front door open and moved to the foyer. She smiled. It was Clive, but his expression made her smile fall and her heart ache. It was an expression of defeat. She rushed to him. “What’s the matter? Did your mother say something that upset you?”
He shook his head and tried for a smile. “What have you been up to? Where is everyone?”
“Clive.” She took his hand. “Don’t shut me out. What happened?”
He was trembling. It wasn’t visible, but she could feel it. He opened his mouth but closed it before anything could come out.
“Come with me.” She led him to the garden. The day was gray but dry and warm.
They settled down on a bench before she said, “What happened?”
“The property on the other side of the lake is for sale,” he said. “Would you like to live in the park, or would you prefer the townhouse?”
“The townhouse. It’s closer to the children.” Cass had taken her by earlier. She’d allowed him to take any of the expensive masterpieces she’d yet to sell. He’d bought it all. She had no idea what he would do it with it, but he was aware the money would go to the children. They could paint their own works, fill the house with happiness.
“The mansion is bigger,” he said.
“So?”
He smiled and then looked away.
“Tell Cass,” she said. “He hates the city, but perhaps he can be persuaded to come to town more often if he had a property in London but was surrounded by nature.” Cass had already said he liked Marley’s home.
“Are you enjoying your time with him?” Clive asked.
She nodded and then she told him about Cass with the babies.
Clive gave a real laugh, but it didn’t last long. He looked out onto the lake.
Irene waited for him to tell her what happened.
Finally, he said, “My mother has gone to Bath.”
“She told you she was going to Bath?”
He shook her head. “She didn’t come to tea. Edmund was there.”
Irene squeezed his hand. “What happened?”
“Nothing new. We threatened one another. He won.” Clive looked at her. “It was always too good to be true, my mother meeting me as she had for the last few months. He was bound to find out, to put a stop to it. He’d known about it, actually. He was controlling us all along. He was allowing our meetings, but I offended him by wedding in his drawing room.”
“Your drawing room,” she reminded him heatedly. “You pay the rent.”
He looked away again and said nothing.
Irene didn’t understand. “Why does she let him keep you two apart?”
“She doesn’t know the truth, Irene,” he said. “He’d tell her if I ever forced the issue.”
“Children steal, Clive. That is what they do. She’ll forgive you.”
“You don’t know what it is I stole.” His voice had gone so cold she shivered as though there was a bite in the air.
“What did you steal?” she asked.
His eyes were on her again. His brow was furrowed. His breathing was hard.
She touched his cheek. “Clive, there is nothing you can say that will make me love you less.”
“Everyone has a limit, Irene,” he said. “Even you.”
“No. I don’t,” she said
.
His tone became mocking. “Let’s pray that confidence is never tested.”
“You might irritate me at times, but I love you anyway.” She glared. “Now, tell me what you did so that I can make it better.”
His lips twitched. “I’ve tried for years to make this better, but it is impossible.”
She straightened away from him and looked at him as she would a man of business. “Tell me.”
He scratched the back of his ear and then pushed his hair back before resituating his hat. “I don’t want to tell you.” His expression was bold. “I don’t want to change in your eyes. That’s the truth.”
“You’re being silly. Tell me now or I’ll go to Lord Edmund myself.”
His expression became like stone. “You are to stay away from Lord Edmund.”
“He doesn’t frighten me. He cannot control me.”
He grabbed her arms. “You are never to speak to my stepfather. If you see him, you walk the other direction.”
“He makes you unhappy, Clive. I cannot sit by…”
He shook his head. “It will displease me greatly if you speak to him. Swear to me that you never will.”
She frowned. “He is your family. I don’t believe he can be avoided forever.”
“Today was the first day I’d spoken to him in over a year. Trust me, it’s possible. Swear it to me.”
“I can’t,” she said. “This cannot go on.”
“You’re not listening.” He shook his head and glared at her. “You’re so headstrong. You jump into anything, never mind who is hurt along the way, including yourself.” He released her so suddenly that he might as well have pushed her.
Irene got her bearings as he stood. She’d seen Clive angry before, but this was something else.
His expression was menacing.
She leaned away, surprised by the look and his words. It wasn’t that she feared him, she simply didn’t know what to do or what to say. She wasn’t sure how to make this better or if she could. She realized then that for everything she knew about Clive, there were still things she didn’t know.
He stared at her for a long while and then his eyes cleared of every emotion until they were as empty as Cass’. “Speak to Edmund. Don’t speak to Edmund. I don’t care.”
Pain of The Marquess: (The Valiant Love Regency Romance) (A Historical Romance Book) Page 17
