Beauty and the Beastly Marquess

by Lisa Campell

  He was terrified that once she knew it, she might turn away from him, forever. Eliza was so good, while Sebastian was anything but.

  Still, once they had ventured, however tentatively, into the realm of physical intimacy, Sebastian found it nearly impossible to close himself off again. Much as he tried not to make sharing a bed with Eliza into a habit, he was drawn back to her side night after night, like a moth to a flame. Her body tantalized him, and sometimes after she had dropped off to sleep, he studied the contours of her form in the moonlight so that he wouldn’t forget a single inch.

  She was even more beautiful in the throes of pleasure. His resolve had never been tested half as much as when Eliza’s body arched into his kiss or the tender caress of his fingers along her sensuous curves. He loved the sensation of her slender fingers tangled in his hair, pressing into his skin, gripping the sheets as he brought her over the edge of climax. In her own demure way, Eliza had made it clear she’d be happy to return the favor, but that much, Sebastian still wouldn’t allow.

  He remained determined not to consummate their marriage—at least, not in the traditional sense. The thought crossed his mind with increasing frequency due to the intensity of his longing, and every time, black fear subsumed desire. He imagined the hypothetical face of their child concealing what would no doubt be a broken mind.

  No. It would be a curse to continue this bloodline.

  That, he knew, was an unalterable truth. But it pained him to look upon lovely Eliza and acknowledge that she would be forever barren by no choice of her own. If only she could understand the heartbreak he was sparing them both.

  Sebastian’s darkest thoughts dwelt in a place he chose not to visit except in the full dark of night, often as he lay beside his wife and listened to her breathing. She deserved better than the hand she’d been so cruelly dealt in life. Were it not for the unsavory actions of the Earl of Wyhurst, she might have found a husband who was able to love her completely, without fear of producing blighted children.

  But he did love her. Sebastian had tried much too hard to deny it, when the truth was that his love for her simmered in his blood and echoed with every beat of his heart. No other lady on the face of the earth could hope to take her place, even under the best of circumstances. Eliza Campden, as far as Sebastian was concerned, had ended up exactly where she needed to be. And he didn’t want her to doubt that for a second.

  So, he did his best to please her in the velvet depths of their nights together. Eliza had not been loved by anyone other than Sebastian; she was open and trusting, as receptive as she was naïve. He helped her figure out precisely what she yearned for, what would make her gasp and shudder and moan.

  “Seb,” she had gasped one time, slightly breathless, after they had finished and lay together in a tangle of linens. “You don’t…think less of me, do you?”

  “What?” He’d rolled over to face her, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  Eliza had shrugged and blushed brightly enough that he could see her scarlet cheeks despite the lack of light in the room. She had taken the sheet and tugged it modestly up to her chin. “Sometimes I’m embarrassed by my wants,” she admitted. “Especially because you’ve made it so clear how you feel.”

  Sebastian sighed and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. Her long, dark lashes fringed eyes as smooth and cool as chips of jade. Then he smiled. “It might surprise you to learn that many ladies do, in fact, enjoy receiving pleasure from their husbands. If you’re ashamed, I suppose I’m simply not working hard enough.”

  Her eyes widened. “That isn’t what I meant at all!” she stated. He laughed, and she shook her head. “No, you are wonderful. More than I ever dreamed.”

  “I appreciate the sentiment, darling.” Sebastian pressed his lips to her forehead. “Of course I don’t think less of you for wanting something from me that a husband must needs provide to his wife. I can forego consummation, but I wouldn’t dare ask you to give up all indulgences.”

  He had half expected her to press him on his reluctance to engage in the highest form of intimacy. Perhaps she would have even been within her rights to do so. Instead, she let out her breath in a contented sigh and snuggled close to him. The warmth of her skin soothed Sebastian like nothing else. The loudest noises in his mind all seemed to hush when she touched him. At her side, he slept easier than he ever had.

  Thus, Sebastian and Eliza inched toward a rather more normal marriage. The wall that had stood between them began to fall down brick by brick, until Sebastian finally realized how he’d truly started to think of her as his wife. The revelation hit him as he watched her descend the main staircase into the front hall, dressed for Judith’s ball in a long, sweeping gown. It was an emerald green silk, which brought out the color of her eyes, the cream in her skin. The cut of it only accentuated her slim waist, and the décolletage was cut low, revealing the swell of her ample breasts.

  “You’re staring,” she giggled. “Should I change?” She gestured to her outfit. “I was worried it might be too much.”

  “No,” Sebastian said. “It’s perfect.” He held out his hand. “Shall we, Lady Dain?”

  Eliza’s eyes sparkled. She laid her fingers delicately into his palm. “Yes, I suppose we shall, Lord Dain.”

  Some of her palpable enthusiasm faded in the carriage on the way to the manor. She grew quiet, her hands fidgeting in her lap. Sebastian could tell she was doing her utmost to mask the gnawing anxiety that she felt. He wondered what it was like for her to return to the site of her greatest humiliation, and he hoped she had to fortitude to face it.

  He also hoped Lord Wyhurst wouldn’t have the gall to show his face. Though it was impossible to think the earl had received a formal invitation from Judith, of all people, Sebastian understood gentlemen like Lord Wyhurst seldom needed one. He made a tacit vow to stay close to Eliza at all times, just to be safe.

  “We’ve arrived,” Eliza said softly, breaking his train of thought. The carriage had pulled to a stop at the base of the manor stairs. She gazed up at the open doors, blazing with light the same way they had on the night of her coming out. For a moment, she appeared to be thousands of miles away.

  When the footman opened the door, Sebastian hopped out, then reached out to offer his wife down, helping her alight onto the stones. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Her hand found his just long enough for a quick, tight squeeze. He set her hand on his bent elbow, then he led her up toward the building. The gauntlet of watching faces was smaller now, though no less intent in their scrutiny. As they crossed the threshold into the bright heat of the candles, she drew close by Sebastian’s side. They joined the long line of people, who were waiting to be received by their hosts. They were the last to arrive, and thus were at the very end of the line.

  “Do you see him?” she asked.

  Sebastian’s first thought was Lord Wyhurst, naturally. “No. I don’t think he’s here tonight.”

  But Eliza frowned. “Why wouldn’t Matthew be here tonight?” Her gaze moved toward the ballroom entrance.

  “Oh. He’s right there, beside Judith,” he murmured, realizing that she could not see.

  She paused. “Who did you think I meant?”

  He had hoped she wouldn’t pursue the question. Alas, she had, and now he must provide an answer. Sebastian considered, as he often did, the telling of a harmless white lie, but his conscience was starting to get the better of him as of late, especially with regard to Eliza. Indeed, the very foundation of their marriage had been built upon the monumental falsehood that he was content without intimacy, that he only performed certain acts for her benefit.

  He decided to tell the truth. “I thought you were looking for Lord Wyhurst.”

  The color drained from her face. “Good heavens. Judith promised that he wouldn’t be here.” She chewed her lip. Sebastian felt sorry for upsetting her.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll keep my eyes open,” he told her.

  Eliza nodded, but th
en went silent the whole time that they waited in line. At long last, they finally approached Matthew and Judith, who were both resplendent in their finery.

  “So, you made it after all,” Matthew joked, smiling. He shook Sebastian’s hand and kissed his sister on the cheek. “I was starting to think you’d found a way to weasel out of attending my wife’s party.”

  “Oh please, Matthew. I would never miss any of Judith’s events,” Eliza protested. She gave her sister-in-law a fond smile.

  “I wasn’t talking about you, dear sister.” Matthew clapped Sebastian on the shoulder. “In fact, I’ve no doubt it was your influence that brought him here in the first place.”

  Eliza beamed. Sebastian didn’t deny it. He lingered behind with Matthew as their wives moved off together, arm in arm. “Not to bring the mood down right away, but you haven’t laid eyes on Lord Wyhurst, have you?” he inquired. He kept his voice low so the dastardly earl’s name wouldn’t reach curious ears.

  Matthew bristled. “No. He wasn’t invited. Have you?”

  Sebastian shook his head. “No, but I’m not counting it out.” He took one more look around the ballroom, then turned to his host. “It’s a good night for a drink and a hand of cards, don’t you think?”

  Matthew grinned. “Always, my friend.” He clapped Sebastian on the shoulder. “I’m thankful to see you and Eliza looking well together.” He hesitated. “And if that wily fox Lord Wyhurst should come sniffing around, he’ll be out the door before he can think about causing trouble. Mark my words.”

  Comforted by Matthew’s conviction, Sebastian allowed himself to relax a little. From where they stood, he could still see Eliza and Judith pausing to speak to some other ladies of the ton. After a moment of conversation, Eliza laughed. Even if she was putting on airs, the sight of her joy was good for Sebastian’s heart.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The moment she had Judith by her side, Eliza felt some of her creeping anxiety melt away. It was almost like old times, before everything had changed—she and Judith mingling with guests while the gentlemen watched and smoked and played cards. Everything would be all right as long as Eliza wasn’t alone.

  Judith seemed to share the sentiment. Her touch on Eliza’s arm was gentle but firm, effectively locking them together. Eliza had no doubt that her beloved sister was also thinking about that night she had disappeared into the garden with Lord Wyhurst, out of sight for a little too long. The memory was so unpleasant that she shivered to recall it.

  “Are you cold?” Judith asked. “I could have the terrace doors closed.”

  “No, no. Just a momentary chill.” Eliza smiled and shoved all traces of Lord Wyhurst into the deepest, most inaccessible crevices of her subconscious. He did not deserve to take up space in her brain and ruin what was supposed to be a wonderful night any longer. Judith had gone to such pains to organize the ball. Eliza refused to let her efforts be in vain.

  “All right, if you say so.” Judith’s eyes lingered on Eliza for a second longer, as if she knew there was something unspoken hanging in the air. The two ladies eased through the crowd, and Eliza let the din of friendly chatter fill her ears. She was a married lady now, untouchable by the ghosts that would haunt her past. And Sebastian was there to stand by her.

  “Judith! Oh, Judith!” The shrill voice pierced through the veil of Eliza’s careful serenity. She winced at the sheer volume and pitch before turning to see who had issued the noise. A few others around her turned as well, most of them rolling their eyes and sighing.

  “It’s just the Duchess of Hampshire,” one gentleman muttered to his friends. “Look away, or else she’ll ensnare you!” They laughed and moved on.

  But Eliza, tethered to Judith, was stuck at the mercy of her sister’s good graces. And Judith was nothing if not a perfect hostess. She guided Eliza deftly toward the small group encircling the Duchess of Hampshire, who was seated primly upon a cushioned chaise.

  “How lovely to see you, Your Grace!” Judith exclaimed. She released Eliza long enough to clasp the old duchess’ hands. “You look positively radiant tonight.” In fact, the Duchess of Hampshire looked as though her face might crack beneath the weight of the makeup adorning her cheeks, eyelids, and heavily painted lips. “Have you met the Marchioness of Dain? She is Matthew’s sister, and the Marquess of Dain’s wife.”

  The Duchess blinked, looking Eliza up and down. “I’ve heard of you, My Lady,” she announced dismissively. “A shame about your coming out ball, dear. Really, quite a shame.”

  Immediately, Eliza’s smile became forced. She fought the urge to break out of the small circle and run back to Matthew and Sebastian. It was just her luck that the first lady of society she happened to encounter would have something to say about her debutante ball. And a duchess, no less! Eliza knew she had no choice but to sit there and endure whatever barbed words might be thrown her way, or else risk embarrassing Judith.

  “It was not what I had hoped,” she said now, keeping her tone modest and low. “I have been fortunate to have the opportunity to move beyond that incident.”

  “Yes, yes.” The Duchess of Hampshire pursed her lips. “Thank goodness for the grace of your husband. Would that all young debutantes had such luck!” The other ladies who had clustered around her murmured their agreement.

  “Don’t fret, Lady Dain,” one of them spoke up suddenly. “I’m sure that marrying for love isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I doubt you’re missing much at all.” She laughed lightly, as if she’d just told the most endearing little joke.

  Eliza was stung. Her eyes darted to Judith, who had quickly released the duchess’ hands. Judith glanced at her, appalled, and reached to link their arms once more. “I…I suppose I wouldn’t know,” Eliza stammered, as pleasantly as she could manage. If there was one thing she had not expected, it was to be attacked so openly by ladies whom Judith had seen fit to personally invite. Her head spun.

  Whatever Judith said to extricate them from the interaction, Eliza didn’t hear it. The sounds in the ballroom had been replaced by the dull roar of humiliation in her ears that she recognized all too well. For the second time, the scene around her faded out almost entirely. She might as well have been alone, the space empty and silent.

  She had been so foolish to believe there was still a chance at salvaging her future. Clearly, Sebastian’s commitment to her had not done enough to silence the flapping tongues of high society. Eliza pressed her lips together as she and Judith moved rapidly toward another section of the ballroom. She imagined their voices still ringing cruelly behind her, propagating half-truths and gossip.

  “I’m so sorry, Eliza.” Judith sounded near tears herself. “I would never have allowed anyone into the manor if I had the slightest inkling that they would lash out at you. All I want is for you to feel welcome.”

  Eliza pulled her off to the side and wrapped Judith in a consoling embrace. “It’s not your fault,” she said. “Some people are so nasty they don’t know what to do except place their unhappiness on others. I’m honored to be here with you tonight.”

  Judith hugged her back. “I know, you poor, sweet thing. It was so good of you and Sebastian both to attend, and still to be treated so unfairly…” She sighed deeply. “Shame on me for allowing this pettiness to surprise me.”

  Eliza chuckled. “Don’t let it worry you any further. I promise I am all right. After what I’ve already been through, a few trivial remarks are nothing.” This was not quite the truth, as much as she wanted it to be. The words had lost much of their initial venom, but it angered Eliza to know that the Duchess of Hampshire felt so comfortable saying them. She hated the idea that she was still a laughingstock among the elite of the ton, that Sebastian’s sacrifices and her own suffering had been in vain.

  Eventually, Eliza and Judith’s meandering paths took them back to where their husbands had settled off to the side of the main floor. Judith had not completely recovered from the shock of the Duchess of Hampshire’s rudeness, and Matthew noti
ced her distress right away.

  “What’s the matter, my love?” He took her hand. “Is it raining on the terrace? Has a chandelier gone out?”

  “I only wish it were so simple!” she huffed. Then she wasted no time recounting the exchange with the Duchess of Hampshire in detail, stopping just short of mimicking Her Grace’s accent. Matthew glanced between his wife and sister, looking equal parts amused and offended on their behalf.

  “Well,” he said, when Judith had finished, “I’m sorry, but I haven’t a clue what you expected when you invited her. She has never in her life been anything close to an amicable lady.”

  “I thought a private party might tame her,” Judith answered. “Now I see how naïve a notion that was, and I’m afraid poor Eliza has paid the price.”