“It does not seem as though his interest in you has diminished,” Lord Belgrave said. Seated at Mary’s left, he’d been regaling her with stories of his boyhood exploits, most of which had ended with him getting hurt in one way or other.
“Quite the contrary,” she agreed, her tone grim with trepidation. Rotridge was like a predator waiting for just the right moment in which to attack.
“Spencer, Chadwick, and I have been trying to keep an eye on him, just in case you ever need us to step in, but it is difficult for us to do so at all hours of the day without his knowledge.”
“And I would never expect you to ruin your holiday in such a way on my behalf,” Mary said, “though I do appreciate the gesture. It is most kind.”
Leaning closer, Belgrave lowered his voice to a whisper. “Has he done anything recently to upset you? Because if he has—”
“No,” she said, panicked by the thought of Belgrave discovering what Rotridge clearly knew. Her hand trembled as she reached for her wineglass, raised it to her lips and took a fortifying sip. “As uncomfortable as I feel in his presence, I am sure that he is quite harmless. His pride has been hurt by my rejection. That is all.”
“I hope you are right,” Belgrave said as he straightened himself in his seat.
So did Mary.
It wasn’t until she made her way upstairs to her bedchamber later, that she realized just how wrong she’d been to do so. Turning down the hallway that would lead her back toward her bedchamber, Mary listened to the accompanying sound of her footsteps tapping lightly against the floor. Carefully, she undid the ties on her reticule and reached inside to retrieve her key. But as she rounded a corner, a man stepped out of an alcove, blocking her path.
Rotridge.
Startled, Mary took a sharp breath and instinctively reared back. “My lord,” she eventually managed, though her heartbeat refused to slow and her voice sounded quite out of breath. “I did not see you.”
The edge of his mouth curved into a menacing smile. “Forgive me, my lady. It was not my intention to frighten you.”
Clearly not, Mary thought as she took a few small steps away from him. He followed her though, his strides longer than hers and swiftly closing the distance between them. “What do you want?” she couldn’t help but ask.
Raising an eyebrow, he studied her a moment before saying, “I do believe that I have made that quite obvious, but let me tell you again; I want you, Lady Mary. I want your hand in marriage, and I daresay that I now have the means by which to convince you to accept my offer.”
Aiming for a blank expression that she hoped would convince him otherwise, she said, in a voice far calmer than she felt, “I have absolutely no idea about what you might be referring to, my lord.”
He leaned closer, likening her to a child about to be reprimanded by an adult. “Is that so, Lucia Cavalani?” His voice was a sneer, filled with vehemence, and Mary knew then that getting what he wanted was the only thing that mattered to him. He was like a spoilt child throwing a tantrum over a toy that he was being denied. Except it wasn’t exactly a tantrum. It was something far more dangerous than that.
“Who?” Mary asked, feigning ignorance. She could think of no other course of action than to deny his claim.
“I would caution you not to take me for a fool, Lady Mary.” His hand curled tightly around her wrist, twisting her skin until it burned. “Accept defeat and we can still try to make the most out of our marriage. Fight me, and I will make certain that you hate every moment of it.” With a hard yank, he pulled her into his arms, the impact forcing the air from her lungs. “Now then,” he murmured, “how about a kiss?”
Try as she might, Mary couldn’t escape his hold. His arms were like bands of steel around her body, holding her firmly in place. “I will never be yours,” she told him fiercely. But the panic of somebody else arriving in the hallway and discovering her in such a compromising position was very acute. Terrified, she tried kicking him instead. But even though her feet made contact with his legs, her efforts seemed to have no effect on him.
Instead, he merely grinned, his eyes holding a wild gleam that sent a chill to Mary’s bones. “Oh yes you will,” he said, “because unless you agree to become my wife, I will tell the world that you have done something as disgraceful as sing at the opera. Everyone will know that you have been cavorting with other men’s mistresses, and that will make them wonder if you are even as innocent as you are meant to be. Perhaps, in disguise, you have been tempted to do certain things . . .”
His hand moved to her breast, his mouth descended over hers, and for one frightening second, Mary knew that she was doomed. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that her life had evolved into a hellish nightmare from which there would be no chance of escape. He was simply too strong and far too determined, not to mention that they were in a public place. Other guests would be retiring soon. They would see her in a most inappropriate position with Rotridge. Her aunt would be informed, and then . . .
The hold on her suddenly lessened and, looking up, Mary saw that Rotridge’s eyes had gone wide with surprise. In the next instant, he was thrust aside, completely removed from her vicinity as a cloaked figure wearing a mask bore down on him. Richard’s fist flew through the air, landing squarely in Rotridge’s jaw, the impact producing a loud thwack!
Rotridge yelped, like a puppy that had just been stepped on. But then, as if realizing what had occurred, he straightened his spine and stood his ground, glaring back at his assailant. “You are very brave, hiding behind that mask of yours. Show yourself, you coward.”
“I will do so when I am ready,” Richard replied. “At present, I am only interested in discussing your reluctance to stay away from Lady Mary as you were specifically told to do.”
“And I might have continued doing so had I not discovered an interesting detail about her. Now that I know what she is, you no longer have the right to make demands. Either she does as I say, or I tell the world about her secret identity.”
With a feral growl, Richard leapt toward Rotridge, delivering another blow to the earl’s nose that resulted in an ugly crunching sound of cartilage breaking. Blood ran down over his upper lip before dripping onto his chin and from there, staining his cravat. But rather than accept defeat, Rotridge’s eyes burned with increased fury. Retrieving his handkerchief, he held it to his nose as he stared defiantly back at Richard. “I will find out who you are as well, and once I do, I shall call you out. In the meantime, however, you will have to kill me in order to silence me.”
“A tempting prospect,” Richard murmured, his body positioned protectively between Mary and Rotridge.
“But one that you will not follow through with or I daresay you would have attempted it already.” Chuckling, Rotridge executed a bow. “A pleasure as always, Lady Mary. Signor Antonio.” Without lingering for another moment, he turned on his heels and strode away, his mad laughter echoing through the hallway as he went.
“Are you all right?” Richard asked as he turned to face Mary, concern evident in the depths of his eyes.
“I believe so,” she said. Rotridge was gone, replaced by the man she loved. But despite the relief that she felt, apprehension wound itself around her so tightly that she feared she might suffocate from it. “Thank you for helping.” The faint sound of voices approaching drifted toward them. “I should probably return to my bedchamber before someone sees us together.”
With a nod, he stepped back and executed a perfect bow. “You must not fret over Rotridge, Mary. I will protect you from him by whatever means necessary. You have my word on that.”
Attempting a smile, Mary thanked him again before hurrying toward her bedchamber. She knew that he meant what he said. The only problem was that if Rotridge did indeed follow through on his threat, Mary doubted that Richard would be able to protect her from her aunt.
Chapter 12
When Mary awoke the following morning, it took an enormous amount of effort for her to get out of bed and dr
ess. In fact, all she wanted to do was to go back to sleep so she could avoid the nightmare that undoubtedly waited for her downstairs. To her surprise, however, her aunt appeared to be in a very pleasant mood. There was no indication at all that Rotridge might have spoken to her or revealed anything to incur her anger.
Eventually, Mary decided that her worries had been completely unfounded and focused on her breakfast instead while her aunt spoke happily about another conversation she’d had with the great Mr. Young, as she was now prone to calling him. “Oh, I completely forgot to tell you,” she said after chewing on a bite of toast. “Lord Rotridge left Thorncliff this morning.”
Mary jerked at the mention of the earl’s name, effectively spilling her tea. “Really?”
Lady Foxworth nodded. “I thought that you would like to know since you did voice some concerns about him.”
“Of course,” she said, blinking. This was simply too good to be true. Surely.
“Now, I know that you and I have not spent much time together lately,” Lady Foxworth continued, changing the subject as if it held no more importance than the weather, “so perhaps you would like to take a ride into the village with me today. We can have a look at the shops, perhaps visit a teahouse?”
Mary nodded. “I think that sounds like a lovely idea. But what about Mr. Young?”
Lady Foxworth waved her hand in an almost absentminded way. “You are my first priority. Shall we depart immediately after breakfast?”
Agreeing to do so, Mary returned upstairs only briefly in order to retrieve her bonnet and write a quick message to Richard. But when she entered her bedchamber, she found Amy waiting with a letter. “This just came for you, my lady,” she said, handing the missive to Mary.
Recognizing her brother’s penmanship, Mary sank down onto a chair with a sigh and tore open the seal, her hand flying to her mouth the moment she finished reading what it said. “Dear God, he has lost everything,” she croaked, the words not sounding like her own. It was almost as if she’d stepped outside of her own body to watch a tragic play unfold.
Amy went completely still, her eyes meeting Mary’s “Surely not.”
“His house, the money I recently gave him . . . it is all gone.”
“How is that even possible?”
Mary shook her head as fierce anger stirred to life inside her. “According to this,” she said, crumpling the paper and tossing it aside, “he was taken advantage of. In fact, he claims he has no memory of how it happened but that there are witnesses who say he lost it all in a wager while he was too deep in his cups to think straight.”
“Then he should be able to argue momentary irrationality or something of that nature, should he not?”
“Not when he has already signed away the deed to Carthright House,” Mary gritted out. Honestly, she could murder her brother right now. How could he have allowed this to happen when he’d assured her that the money would be wisely invested? He’d been so enthusiastic about his ideas!
Staring at the letter, Mary tried to calm herself. As angry as she was with her brother right now, it did not compare with the livid fury that she felt for the people who’d swindled him. “As soon as I get back to London, I am going to find out who did this, even if it means hiring every Bow Street runner there is!” For now, however, there was little she could do other than help her brother in the only way she knew how. Heavy-hearted, she penned another letter to her bank before writing the note that was meant for Richard.
“If what you say is true,” Lady Foxworth said as she and Mary trundled along in the carriage a short while later, “then there is even more incentive for you to marry quickly.”
After telling her aunt about the letter she’d just received, it had taken a moment for the older lady to gather her wits in the wake of her initial shock. “My husband would not be obligated to help Andrew,” Mary said. “And I would never expect him to.”
“I should hope not!” Lady Foxworth’s mouth pinched around the edges while her eyes bored into Mary. “That brother of yours may have won the King’s favor by proving himself a hero during the war, but he clearly lacks common sense. In fact, I daresay it is a miracle that he even knew how to tell the front of a musket from the back of one and did not get himself killed instead. How he managed to save as many lives as he did, is absolutely baffling.”
Mary couldn’t help but frown. “I think that is a bit harsh.”
Lady Foxworth responded with a snort. And then, “He has been of no help to you whatsoever, Mary. In truth, he ought to have played a greater role in your coming out. As a baron, he has connections now. King George himself loves Andrew, for heaven’s sake. If he had cared, he would have introduced you to a slew of eligible young gentlemen. He would have danced with you at the balls you attended in order to draw attention to you. Why, even your dowry could have been larger if he had put the money that the king awarded him to good use.”
Although Mary knew that her aunt had a point, she loved her brother and could not help but defend him. “Clearly the cost of running Carthright House was greater than Andrew anticipated, not to mention the money that has been spent on repairs and the new furnishings that were required. These were all necessary expenses, Aunt. The trouble is that he has had some bad luck recently.”
“I do wish that you would stop making excuses for him, Mary. You may not be aware of how much it costs to run an estate the size of Carthright House, but I am.” She gave a pert look. “And I can assure you that the £50,000 that he was awarded would have kept Carthright House in good order for at least ten years. In other words, he is either overpaying the staff or has spent the remainder of his money on something else.”
“I cannot believe that,” Mary said.
“What I cannot believe is that you fail to see him for the fool he truly is. He gambled away his entire estate, Mary!”
“True,” Mary said, mourning her own losses. “But only because he was taken advantage of.”
Lady Foxworth shook her head with a sigh. “Either way, it is clear to me that you cannot count on him for financial support. And since your parents are not as well off as one might have hoped that an earl and countess would be, your options are limited. You could of course consider becoming a governess or a companion, but if I am to be completely honest with you, Mary, I think it would be a pity for you to throw away your life like that.”
Biting her lip, Mary had to agree. Especially now that she’d met Richard. Oh Lord, how on earth was she ever going to get herself out of the muddle she was presently in? Her brother was bleeding her dry, she was in love with a man whom everyone thought to be dead, and the villain who threatened her happiness had mysteriously vanished without explanation.
In addition to this, there was her future with the opera to consider. Richard had made no promises that he would allow her to continue singing in public if they eventually decided to get married. In fact, marriage had not even been properly discussed. She knew that she was probably to blame for that—that he was biding his time until she gave him some indication of being prepared to accept an eventual proposal.
“You are right,” she found herself saying. “I promise you that as soon as we return to Thorncliff I will set my mind to planning my future.”
“And since the Duke of Lamont will probably have arrived by then, I suggest you start by seeking him out.” Lady Foxworth beamed. “Can you imagine? I can think of nothing better than telling your parents that you are going to be a duchess.”
Mary could think of at least one, but refrained from mentioning him. Instead she said, “I believe we might be getting ahead of ourselves, Aunt. As it is, I have spoken to the duke on only a few occasions, and sparingly at that. Chances are that he will not even remember me.”
“Then it is time for us to make him more aware of your fine attributes. You would make an excellent wife, Mary, there is no doubt about that.”
Holding back a sigh, Mary leaned against the side of the carriage and looked out. She would speak with
the duke if it would placate her aunt, perhaps even go for a stroll with him if he felt inclined to invite her. Later, however, while Thorncliff slept, she would seek out Richard, determined as she was to discover whether or not her future might include him, as she was increasingly inclined to believe that it would.
“There he is now,” Lady Foxworth said when they returned to Thorncliff later in the day. Having just turned onto the Thorncliff driveway, her aunt’s face was practically pressed up against the windowpane with the same degree of enthusiasm that a child might exhibit when passing a toy shop.
Following her line of vision, Mary’s gaze fell on a tall, broad-shouldered gentleman wearing a smart navy blue jacket, brown breeches, and tasseled Hessian boots. Dismounting from one of the largest horses that Mary had ever seen, he handed the reins to an awaiting groom and stepped aside, his face turning toward Mary and Lady Foxworth as their carriage pulled up in front of him. The Duke of Lamont looked just as imposing as when Mary had last seen him, his posture bearing the rigidity of a man in possession of great wealth and power.
“How handsome he looks,” Lady Foxworth murmured. Moving away from the window, she told Mary to do the same so they could be ready for when the door opened.
It did so almost immediately, pulled aside by a footman while steps were lowered, allowing the ladies to alight. Lamont stepped forward, extending his hand toward Lady Foxworth. “Allow me,” he said, helping her down. As soon as she had thanked him, he turned to Mary. “A pleasure seeing you again, my lady.”
She dipped her head, acknowledging his greeting. “Likewise, Your Grace.”
Stiffly, he guided her down to the ground below. “I was not aware that you would be holidaying at Thorncliff. As it happens, I have just arrived here myself.”
His Scandalous Kiss: Secrets at Thorncliff Manor: 6 Page 16
