The Genuine Article

by Patricia Rice

  Marian gave him a scandalized look, but Reginald’s ex­pression was quite calm as he led her toward the doors to the outside. Their first child? She had barely thought as far as their wedding day, and he was already considering chil­dren. The notion sent a fascinating thrill through her as she stepped out into the coolness of the evening.

  “I don’t wish to be thought fast,” she protested as the door closed behind them. “It leads gentlemen to assume things that aren’t proper.”

  Reginald snorted. “That gown leads them to assume a great many things that aren’t proper. I think I’ll lock you in the house when we are married.”

  “I am growing tired of this argument,” Marian answered peevishly. “I have excellent taste and this gown is no worse than any other I have seen tonight. If you really mean to be a possessive tyrant, I will rethink this betrothal at once.”

  Reginald pulled her firmly into his arms. “Too late. The deed is done. Neither of our families will allow us to cry off now. You sealed your fate tonight, my dear. Try not to protest too vigorously as we march up the aisle.”

  His mouth closed over hers before she could even begin her protests.

  Marian began to remember why she wanted this mar­riage. She liked the possessiveness of Reginald’s mouth on hers, the heat of him as he claimed her, the thrill of his hands as they held her. There were other things she liked and admired about this man also, but they escaped her when he held her like this, as did everything else. Her hands slid to his shoulders and clung there as their mouths came together with intoxicating fires. She was entirely too aware of his hard body as he pressed her against him.

  They were neither of them aware of their audience until a dark figure lounging against a far rail asserted himself.

  “And here I thought it was my dramatic cape that you wished to admire, cousin. When are you going to learn to keep away from this mongrel fellow?”

  The caped figure stepped into the patterns of light from the ballroom window. A hood hid his face in shadow, and only a glimmer of white linen could be seen through the folds of dark cloth as he propped his arms akimbo on his hips. But neither Marian or Reginald had any doubts as to his identity.

  The Marquess of Effingham had come to London.

  * * *

  Chapter 24

  Reginald gently but firmly put Marian behind him. “Relation or no, I am growing tired of your intrusion into what is none of your affair. Unless you have come to return Marian’s necklace and the missing dia­monds, you would do better to make yourself scarce.”

  Behind him, Marian gasped. Reginald felt her moving to interfere, but he stopped her with his arm, keeping her at a safe distance from the American.

  Hidden behind the folds of his cape, the marquess’s ex­pression couldn’t readily be determined, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice as he replied. “You have a very good eye. The diamonds were needed. They will be replaced as soon as I can generate a flow of cash from the estate. In truth, I did not think the ladies would miss them until I was able to replace them. So you have caught me out in this. But I sent Michael back with the necklace. I still be­lieve it to be mine, but I could not wish to unduly upset the ladies. Michael is generally obedient to a direct order. Is that not the necklace my cousin is wearing?”

  Marian’s fingers gently closed around Reginald’s arm. He liked the feel of them there, and he didn’t protest when she stepped to his side. Somehow, the fact that she clung to him was reassuring.

  “That is the copy that your blasted valet ferreted from its hiding place. Undoubtedly he thought to rob us both. He re­turned the original to my keeping, then replaced it before it reached Marian’s hands, probably thinking I would not no­tice it once she was wearing it.” Reginald didn’t mention that he almost hadn’t, distracted as he had been by Mar­ian’s more natural assets.

  The marquess gave a sigh of exasperation. “I will wring his neck this time. I have warned him often enough that his light fingers were going to get him into trouble. You are only half-right. Michael won’t steal from me. He has a warped sense of justice developed over years I won’t bore you by describing. He is probably waiting to see if you will discover the switch, and if you don’t, he will feel quite comfortable in returning the original to me. His loyalty is commendable, even if his morals aren’t. I will see that the necklace is returned.”

  “Oh dear, do you think we ought—” Marian’s question was interrupted by the arrival of the duke and Reginald’s brother. The plight of the valet was momentarily forgotten as the two new arrivals discovered the cloaked figure in the shadows.

  “Ahh, you are chaperoned. Lady Grace was growing concerned.” The duke sent Marian and Reginald a laughing glance, then turned his attention back to the man in the shadows. “Have I had the pleasure?”

  “Effingham. I believe your invitation was open?” The voice behind the hood was gruff.

  Delight crossed the young duke’s face. “Effingham! I should have known you would be here to look out for your cousin’s interests. I don’t suppose you have time to discuss those artifacts you mentioned in your letters? Or if we could meet at my club tomorrow ... ?”

  Charles grimaced and turned to the young couple he had come seeking. “The two of you had better make an appear­ance in the ballroom before the gossips have you half way to Scotland. Lady Grace is beginning to lose that beautiful patience of hers.”

  “Oh, but we must tell the marquess—”

  Reginald caught Marian’s arm. “We don’t need to tell the marquess anything. He hasn’t proven he can be trusted any more than his valet.” He started toward the ballroom doors.

  Unimpeded by the British etiquette of dealing with a duke, the marquess abruptly ended his conversation to step in front of them, halting their progress. “Why is it I get the impression the lady has been trying to tell me something?”

  “Because the lady is of a more pleasant temperament than I am. Considering the scolds she is capable of giving, I never thought to say that, but the truth will out. If you will excuse us, the lady has yet to dance with me this evening.” Reginald started around the caped figure blocking his way.

  Charles coughed discreetly behind them. “I say, Reggie, you might at least make a proper introduction before you leave me out here.”

  Reginald scowled. “Gavin Lawrence, Marquess of Effingham; Charles Montague, Viscount Witham. Now, if you’ll excuse us—”

  Since the marquess was again blocking their es­cape, Charles tried to smooth the social waters. “Effingham! I was hoping we would have a chance to meet before the nuptials. Where are you staying? I would like to pay my addresses on the morrow, if I could.”

  There was a note of harassment in the American’s voice as he tried to fend off a duke and a viscount determined to do their duties while keeping an eye on the young couple who looked decidedly guilty of something. “I’m only here for the evening to look in on my cousin. Marian, if you would, I’d like to have a word with you.”

  Marian sent Reginald a questioning look. Pleased that she turned to him for his opinion rather than giving in to her cousin, Reginald managed an almost conciliatory reply. “He will come to no harm where he is. I will hand him over to your cousin as soon as I have the necklace in my hands again, I promise.”

  The duke and the viscount looked vaguely bemused when the marquess grabbed for Reginald’s cravat at this seemingly irrelevant comment.

  “Where is he, Montague? What have you done to him? He’s not much of a brother, but he’s the only one I’ve got. I’ll deal with him, not you.”

  Reginald caught the man’s wrists at his throat and twisted. A popping noise of bone rubbing bone forced the marquess to jerk from his captor’s grasp and curl his hands into a fist. Before he could throw the punch, the duke and Charles caught his arms.

  “Reginald is a damned stubborn independent bastard. If hitting him would do any good, I would have done so long ago, but it only makes him worse,” Charles spoke consol­ingly, hold
ing the marquess’s arm in a firm grip. “Lady Marian, if you would, please tell your cousin what he wants to know before someone gets hurt.”

  “You always did play dirty, brother mine. It’s unfair to ask my betrothed to go against my wishes. It puts her in a damned awkward position, and you know it.”

  Reginald straightened his cravat and glared at the hooded figure still prepared to attack him once unrestrained. “I didn’t realize the wretch was your brother. He doesn’t exactly have the family resemblance.”

  The marquess relaxed somewhat warily at this reason­able tone. “Fortunately for him, he resembles our mother instead of the damned dark hot-tempered Lawrences. Ex­cuse me, Marian, you are the exception that makes the rule. It is good to know that the blood runs to beauty in the ladies of the family. Now, what have you done with Michael?”

  Thoroughly unsettled that she had still another cousin, one who was a thief and a valet, Marian glanced quickly to Reginald for reassurance. At his nod, she admitted, “We tied him up until Reginald could get back to him.”

  The marquess uttered a curse that Marian had never heard before, shook off his captors’ hands, and started for the ballroom door. “Tied him up! Damnation, the house will no doubt be in flames, or flying off on the wings of pi­geons before I get there. Tied him up!”

  He continued mut­tering and cursing as he threw open the doors and plowed his way through the glittering company, his black cloak flapping behind him.

  The sight of this Gothic phantom striding through the room, muttering madly, sent the ladies shrieking and gen­tlemen backing out of his way. The marquess seemed com­pletely unaware of the chaos erupting around him. Still hooded, he stalked through the room, trailing the duke and the others behind him.

  As it became apparent that Reginald and Marian meant to follow in his path, Charles hastened to intervene. “I’ll go with him. You two stay here. You’ve caused enough scan­dal for one evening. Someone has to stay and explain this scene to the satisfaction of the gossips.”

  He gestured, and they became aware of the staring faces all around them. Lady Grace was attempting to get through the crowd to her daughter. Jessica and Darley were waiting hesitantly near the steps for some signal to indicate what they should do. The rest of the guests were whispering and staring at the caped phantom now striding briskly up the stairs to the exit.

  Reginald gave his brother a resigned grimace. “Hurry, then. Don’t let him out of your sight until you have the necklace in hand. Jasper will help you.”

  Charles rushed after the departing marquess, giving a word of explanation to the duke as he left.

  Marian just clung to Reginald’s hand and shook her head. “It’s not worth it. None of this is worth it. I could wish I had never set eyes on the thing. His brother?” She turned incredulous eyes to her escort.

  He ought to be frustrated by his inability to follow the action, but Reginald found himself staring down into her bewildered face and wishing they were back out on the bal­cony again. As people began to cluster around them with a dozen questions, the musicians struck up a waltz. He squeezed Marian’s fingers between his own. “My dance, I believe?”

  Eyes widening, Marian glanced around them. Her family and Darley had nearly caught up with them. Lady Jersey was patting her on the shoulder and offering to lead her to a retiring room to recover. Darley’s mother had caught Reginald’s right arm and was pelting him with questions.

  The rest of their acquaintances were adding their ob­servations as to the identity of the mysterious cloaked fig­ure, the ladies admiring his physique while the men protested his rudeness and speculated about his dangerousness.

  And Reginald wanted to dance?

  That sounded fine to Marian. She slid her fingers around his arm. “Lead on, MacDuff,” she purposely misquoted.

  “ ‘And damned be him that first cries, Hold, enough!’” Reginald murmured as he steered her through the curious crowd.

  Thrilled beyond speaking that he knew the reference, Marian merely floated into his arms when Reginald held them out at the dance floor. Gaze fastened on his face, she scarcely cared where her feet were as he guided them skill­fully into the crowd. The knowledge that she had actually found a man who knew Shakespeare held her rapt as he swirled her in circles around the room.

  Eventually, how­ever, she became aware of the heat of Reginald’s hand at her back and the warmth of the gaze he was returning, and she began to blush.

  “I didn’t mean to stare,” she murmured helplessly.

  “That’s quite all right, as long as you are not staring at a piece of grape between my teeth.”

  “I cannot imagine you ever having a piece of grape be­tween your teeth.”

  His eyes danced. “Straw, then. Braying jackasses most likely keep straw between their teeth.”

  Marian’s lips twitched with the effort to hold her smile. “You will never forgive me for that, will you?”

  “Ummm, maybe in a thousand years, give or take a hun­dred or so. Do you think once we are married my life might return to some order again, or is it your intention for us al­ways to live amidst chaos?”

  Marian felt a nervous palpitation of the heart at the way Reginald was looking at her. She still had not quite grasped the reality of marrying this man. They scarcely knew each other. Yet she knew the pressing intimacy of his mouth against hers, and the way it made her feel, and she could think of no other man with whom she would share that sensation. Shortly, they could be sharing their meals together, living in the same house ... she blushed when she came to the idea of sleeping in the same bed together. Surely not.

  “I would like to know what thought led to that charming bit of color in your cheeks, but perhaps I am better off not knowing. The dance has ended. Do you think if we stand here like this long enough, they will take pity on us and begin another?”

  She was still in Reginald’s arms in the middle of the dance floor while all others around them broke up to return to their various places among the guests. Marian discreetly stepped from his embrace and tried not to stare at him again.

  “We had best go back to my mother. We have no doubt made a sufficient spectacle of ourselves for one night.”

  “I have never had any particular desire to attract atten­tion, but I find myself caring little if we do. Darley is head­ing this way and I mean to tell him no if he thinks to draw you away from me.” Reginald held her hand firmly clasped in his.

  “What has come over you?” Unable to help herself, Mar­ian turned her gaze back up to Reginald’s starkly handsome face. The determined jut of his jaw made her heart leap. The stiffly arrogant man she had first met was rapidly be­coming someone she liked and understood much too well.

  Reginald had the grace to return her an uncertain smile. “I don’t know. I think it must be that gown. I have this strange urge to ask your mother for a bill of sale so I might take you home with me.”

  Marian didn’t know whether to laugh or scold at this re­luctantly given admission. Darley’s arrival interfered with either.

  “I have been nominated to drag the pair of you off the dance floor before you can make utter cakes of yourselves. You would be doing me a great favor if you can make some show of complying to my authoritative orders.”

  Reginald quickly masked a look of frustration and irrita­tion and, offering his arm, escorted Marian in the direction of her mother. “How are we to ever come to know each other if we cannot be left alone for even two minutes?” he asked rhetorically, for no one bothered to explain.

  “Lady Grace can be quite a tartar when she gets her dan­der up. You’re about to be raked over the coals, or I miss my guess,” Darley said genially.

  “Perhaps I ought to go see how Charles is faring,” Regi­nald mused as they drew closer to the lady in question.

  “Craven,” Marian murmured as they came to stand in front of her mother. She wished she could bottle the look that Reginald gave her in return. It contained a confused frustration that she tho
ught never to see in him and would no doubt never see again. It was good to know there were a few things that the lofty Reginald Montague could not deal with entirely on his own.

  “Mama, did you know that the marquess has a brother, and that he has been serving as Reginald’s valet all this time?” A direct attack usually served to divert Lady Grace’s intentions.

  Surprise lifted her eyebrows, but Lady Grace still main­tained a frosty look as she kept her gaze on her daughter’s betrothed. “Then we shall have to invite him to the wed­ding, I suppose. You are not planning a long betrothal, I trust?”

  “I don’t think there will be any difficulty obtaining a spe­cial license, my lady. I would like Marian to meet the rest of my family, of course, but you may set the date at any time you wish,” Reginald answered a trifle stiffly.

  “Very good. I think the first of the month will suit. We would not wish anyone to think there is need for haste.”

  Before Lady Grace could say more, she was distracted by a cry from her younger daughter. Jessica was looking to the entrance, where a small crowd of people gathered. Many of the guests had drifted off to the supper table since the musicians had retired, but a few stragglers had found some new entertainment.

  “He had a dove, Mama. It flew away. Did you see it?” Delighted by the show, Jessica was already drifting in the direction of this new distraction.

  Marian looked to see what her sister saw, but she could only discern a small crowd of people laughing and watch­ing something in their center. Taller than she and better able to see above heads, Reginald was frowning slightly at whatever spectacle was there. She tugged on his hand. “What is it?”

  Offering an arm to Lady Grace while Darley hurried after Jessica, Reginald led them toward the stairs and the lingering company. Perhaps the duke had arranged some form of entertainment for the supper break. Marian was in no hurry to join the crowd at the banqueting tables. She hurried to keep up with Reginald.