“Lucas?” Markham just registered his son’s disappearance. “He is gone?”
Frantically, Lizzie searched the people standing around them. All the little boys looked like Lucas, but none of the children resembled Albert. No, he stood out horribly with his ill-fitting, torn clothing.
“We have to split up and look for them,” she said, gulping the aching lump in her tight throat. “They can’t have got far.”
Lord Alcott nodded. “I’ll circle around here and check with the nearby vendors. My mother said she’ll find the local policeman and make him aware.”
Lizzie offered a painful smile as her thanks. She turned back to Markham, the sting of Lady Fallston’s words nearly forgotten. “Will you join me?”
“Lord Markham?” Lady Fallston’s voice broke their connection with its poisonous tone. “That boy is the reason your son is missing.”
Lizzie could waste not another moment listening to her vile words. She nodded at Markham and tried to push her way through the thickened crowd.
“My son is missing,” Markham’s words carried out to her. “And so is another child.”
“You’ll find them, causing trouble somewhere, no doubt.”
Lizzie caught a glimpse of Markham, his face reddening. He yanked off his tall hat and shoved the curl from his forehead. “You do not deserve another moment of my time.”
Lady Fallston snatched his arm, her horrified gasp rising above the murmurs of the crowd. “And Miss Parker does? You have not seen the last of me. Any day now I should find proof of what binds you to that unattractive, untitled wench.”
Lizzie’s lungs tightened as the urge to defend herself raced up to her tongue. But even as she turned back, Markham’s voice stopped her short.
“Proof of what? Miss Parker is more attractive and more fascinating than any titled woman here. Our discussion is over. I have two children to locate.”
With that, Markham pulled away and disappeared into the shadowed stalls. The evil Lady Fallston gave her a bitter glare. “Mark my words, soon enough he’ll learn the error of his ways and you’ll be out on the pavement like the daily garbage.”
Lizzie stared after her, too dumbfounded to speak or move. But then a child cried and she refused to focus on what Lady Fallston or Markham had just said.
Panic rose in earnest within her breast. She must find Albert and Lucas. Pushing her way through the crowd, Lizzie headed straight for the sign touting the world’s largest organ.
Would they come here? Would this fascinate them? Maybe the dinosaurs? Other country exhibits?
After what felt like an eternity, Lizzie sank exhausted into a bench next to the enormous instrument. She was so foolish to let go of his hand, to turn her attention to that vile Lady Fallston.
“Miz Parker!”
Lizzie snapped her head up. Albert? She scrambled to her feet and glanced around the people nearby. “Albert!”
Oh God, it was him. Then, like a flash of lightening, his little body burst from between two women, and raced straight for her. He grabbed her legs and squeezed.
“I seen the dinosaurs.”
Lucas followed behind him, the toothless grin bright.
Lizzie dropped down to his level, her eyes blurring. “Oh, Albert, why didn’t you boys wait for us? We’ve been so worried.”
“We tried, nobody would listen to us.”
She squeezed him back, not minding the dirty hair or dusty clothes. Relief poured from her in tears. They were found. They were safe.
She stood as Markham ran over to them. She’d never seen such fear in his eyes. His skin shone with sweat, his hat was still clutched in his hands.
“Lucas.” He kneeled down and pulled his son into an embrace. “I thought I’d lost you.”
Beside her, Albert sniffled. “I’m sorry I lost him.”
Lizzie’s throat tightened as she watched Markham. Lady Fallston placed the blame on Albert. Would he?
“It wasn’t just him—” Lucas began, but his father held up his hand.
Markham patted Albert’s shoulder. “The fault lies within us. We did not seek your interests, but merely dragged you along to ours.”
“Yer not going to send me away?”
Markham shook his head. “You are my son’s friend. Now tell me, boys, what did you see?”
As Albert and Lucas described the dinosaurs and other artifacts, Lizzie fought tears sparkling in her throat.
Not only had Markham proven she meant something to him, he chose to believe in a poor little boy rather than a respectable, titled woman. He had changed.
He had become a man worthy of her love.
Chapter Twenty
There was no turning back now.
Markham gulped, attempting to straighten his papers still scattered on the dark wood floor of his study. He’d feared reprisal from Lucinda for far too long, allowing Lizzie’s heart to be possibly swayed by his brother—or to linger over that curate.
But now he’d shown his former lover that she could not manipulate him. He must marry Lizzie and nothing would get in his way, certainly not some hollow threat.
The papers now straightened, he slammed the desk drawer closed and stood. Lizzie seemed to be adding a small amount of weight to her thin frame. Was it a benefit of upper-class living? Or a bastard child growing inside her?
His temples throbbed at the thought. Soon. He must discover if she were a virgin. For if she weren’t, their wedding would be celebrated within record time.
But other than those thoughts, the question remained whether Lizzie would have him. Had bringing Lucas to London and the Crystal Palace been enough to sway her heart?
A knock on the door gave Markham a start. His lips tingled with the thought that it may be his pixie. He yearned to kiss her. “Enter.”
But it was Alcott who breezed in, a mysterious smile dancing on his lips. “Interesting day yesterday, wasn’t it?”
Markham crossed his arms, leaning against the desk. “It was.”
“Did you find the exhibits and displays fascinating?”
Fascinating. The word he used to describe Lizzie to Lucinda. He never found Lizzie boring or lacking in some type of stimulation, whether mental or physical. Her passions, her very verve for life fascinated him. He loved the way she made him rethink his world, see others in a whole new light.
Markham’s lips quirked. “It is a shame we could not see them all. But we will return another day.”
Alcott raised an eyebrow. “We?”
Markham cleared his throat. He knew his stepbrother. He was after something or here to request money. This small talk only hid another personal agenda. “State your business, Alcott. I’ve other matters to attend.”
“All right then. Miss Parker. What are your intentions toward her?”
Markham set his jaw, his voice lowering. “Why is that your business to know?”
Alcott moved past him and dropped into one of the red leather chairs. Leaning back, he placed his feet upon the desk and crossed his ankles. A sure sign of some victory. Markham’s heart kicked up speed.
“I only ask,” his brother replied with a grin, “because I’ve told her that I want to ask for her hand.”
Tight lungs squeezed out a breath. “Her hand? As in marriage?”
“Of course in marriage. At first I thought her too quiet and submissive. But I was wrong. She is not perfect for you, she’s perfect for me. I want to marry her.”
“No.”
The damn eyebrow again. “What does that mean? Do I need your permission?”
“You—you can’t marry her.”
“Why?”
Sweat formed along Markham’s hairline and his hands turned clammy. “Her father entrusted her care to me, to see that she found the proper husband.”
Alcott brought his feet down from the desk and leaned forward, his blue eyes steeled and narrowed. “Are you saying I’m not a proper husband?”
Don’t lose control. It wasn’t too late to stop this. Nothing
had been announced. “Has she given you an answer?”
Alcott glanced away. “No. We were interrupted by Lady Fallston’s arrival.”
Relief softened Markham’s shoulders. So there still was time to discern her feelings toward this situation. Now back in control, he shrugged. “So, if she has not answered you and if you feel you do not need my permission, then why did you ask my intentions?”
“Because you’ve kissed her.”
Yes, those kisses. Like losing himself in a world where nothing else mattered. “Yes, I’ve kissed her. What of it?”
“We’ve held this conversation before. Do you plan to be honorable with her or is she some passing fancy to you?”
“What I plan to do is between Miss Parker and myself.”
“You’ll not tell me then.”
Markham returned to the papers remaining on his desk. He gave Alcott a brief glance. “Let it be known that I have her best interest at heart.”
“Best interest…” came the muttered reply. “That, I will believe it when I see it. I am not giving up on my pursuit of her, Evan.”
“Evan is it? Well, Thomas, then as the saying goes, let the best man win.”
Once his brother left the room, Markham let out a growl and kicked the desk. The devil to Alcott and his desire for Lizzie. Now there was even more reason to know if her heart had been swayed by the visit to the Crystal Palace yesterday.
First, he had the challenge of locating her and then he’d find a way to secure her heart for good. What would thrill her? He couldn’t go back to the Great Exhibition, but there must be something else.
Markham paced the study but nothing would come to him. He must find someplace special. He had to take her out in public, as she requested, but have it be somewhere that meant something to her. He had to prove to her that she really did affect him in some way.
He stopped at the rear window. Its view held the terrace and small garden. And there, on the bench, sat Lizzie. She held a flower bud in her hand, inspecting it like a treasure from a pirate’s chest.
Of course. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? One of the family houses stood in Surrey, not very far from the Botanical Gardens at Kew. It would be there, among the flowers, that Markham would finally offer his proposal. Soon Lizzie would become the next Countess of Markham.
And his son would inherit the title. His marriage to Emily and her death would not have been in vain.
Lizzie let her eyes drift closed, the scents of late spring invigorating her. She felt alive, confused, and desperate all at once.
The terrace door snapped shut, jolting her eyes open. Her heart skipped a beat, quickening her breath.
Markham. He was so magnificent. His tall frame and wide shoulders displayed his strength. Those lean legs spoke of speed. But it was his face that captured her interest most. Burning eyes of blackness that stole her reason, while those expert lips stole her heart.
“I’d like to show you something,” he said, his face frozen as usual. But something was different this time. That crack she had witnessed at the Crystal Palace seemed to be widening. Perhaps he could no longer hold himself emotionless, apart from the rest of the world.
Lizzie nodded, but did not stand. “Go on.”
One corner of his mouth curled. “Not here. It is a place. Something I really think you’ll enjoy.”
“Is this another surprise?” She arched an eyebrow. “Do you remember the last time you tried to surprise me?”
Markham cleared his throat. “Rather well, I can assure you. But I did not know you so well then.”
“And you do now?”
“I have every faith that you will be delighted.”
How could she say no to that tiny gleam of excitement in his eyes? How could she not give in to that yearning which burned so deep in her chest? Blast it, she must give him one last chance anyway. Soon enough either Lord Alcott would require an answer or she would have to respond to some other inquiring peer.
Lizzie set down the flower, brushed at her skirt, and stood. “Then what are we waiting for?”
She followed him through the house, where he gathered a small parcel of fruit and bread, then out the waiting carriage.
Lizzie found Lady Harkmoor sitting in the corner of the vehicle, a scowl on her face. “I’m too tired for this today. No one prepared me I would be taking a trip.”
“You might enjoy yourself,” Markham sighed, climbing inside and shutting the door.
The chaperone sniffed. “I was ready to settle down for a nap.” She opened a book on her lap. “Just behave yourselves in case I fall asleep.”
Lizzie thought she heard Markham cough. “Of course, we’ll try not to disturb you.”
They had not even reached the outskirts of London when Lady Harkmoor’s head bobbed against the cushion and light snores came from her throat. Again, her chaperone failed at her task. Did they actually want her reputation ruined?
“How long is the ride?” Lizzie asked Markham, who also had his eyes closed.
“We’re leaving London so it will take a while. Why, are you hungry?”
Not for food. The idea of kissing him had entered her mind, and now it took hold and would not let go. Every night, as she lay in bed, she recalled his lips on hers, his hands on her breasts. A pulsating thrill would race through her, creating an ache deep inside. No one else had ever made her experience that before. No one.
Lizzie shook her head.
Markham opened his eyes, cocked an eyebrow. “Bored already?”
She glanced away, biting her lip. “We could talk about the exhibits we saw yesterday. Or that terrible fear when the children vanished. Or—”
Then he was before her. The heat and scent from his body washed over her in a trembling wave of awareness. Suddenly, she could say no more. She glanced at Lady Harkmoor, but the woman slept soundly.
“I can read you so easily,” he said in a low, raw whisper. “One look at your face and I know what is in your mind.”
She gulped, her pulse drumming in her ears.
“I won’t let you deny it this time. No. Your lips beg me to kiss them, isn’t that true?”
Lizzie let her eyelids drift downward, the senses of smell and sound heightening. His foreign aroma stirred her blood, the sound of his breathing tightened her nipples.
He shifted closer, his words tickling down her neck. “That won’t work, Miss Parker. You can’t run from me here, you cannot hide from what will happen next.”
“What about Lady Harkmoor?”
“She’ll not awaken.”
Lizzie felt her cape move away and slide off her shoulders. A small whimper escaped her lips.
“Look at me while I kiss you.”
His hoarse seductive voice unraveled her last shard of resistance. Lizzie opened her eyes to find him staring at her, a blaze of determination and desire.
“That’s better.” He cupped his hands around her jaw.
Lizzie lost herself to the pressure of his lips on hers. As with each time before, this skilled man knew how to open her mouth with only a small taste of him. One sample of his tongue had her begging for more.
Markham kissed her deep and hard, stimulating that yearning in her gut. Her belly cramped, her legs clenched tighter. When his hand traveled down her shoulder and captured her breast, Lizzie gasped with need.
Her noise prompted him to abandon her lips. After he took small nips of her nose, her ears, and then her neck, Lizzie placed her hands on his chest. She was aching elsewhere. Oh God, she needed him to touch her there, satisfy that tantalizing itch.
With a shuddering groan, Markham obliged. His dark head moved from her neck to her throat then moved further down. Not low-cut enough, the dress blocked his touch. But Markham used his fingers to push much of it aside, kissing the insides of her breasts.
The area between her legs dampened and Lizzie tightened her thighs. Even as he squeezed her breasts in his hands, she felt the urge for something more.
Markham lower
ed to his knees and parted her legs, leaning in as much as the dress would allow. As he rubbed the fabric over her throbbing nipples, Lizzie bucked her hips up against him, stifling a cry deep in her throat. She wanted to feel his rigid arousal, she wanted to have it press against the yearning throb at her center.
Markham moaned, caught his breath, then leveled her with a hooded stare. “Not yet, my love,” he rasped. “Not here. Lady Harkmoor will waken eventually.”
My love? Was that only desire talking? Blast it, with the way she felt right now, she almost didn’t care.
“But that blissful burn…I need something…”
A grin curled his swollen lips. “I need it too, far more than you know. But the carriage is not the place for it. First, your surprise. And then later?”
Then, later, seduction. She had only meant to grant him a kiss. Clearly he intended more. But would she have the fortitude to stop it?
Chapter Twenty-One
The tall glass and iron structure, though slightly less dramatic in comparison to the Crystal Palace, beckoned them from their walk. A vibrant carpet of bluebells spread out from the sides of the path, reaching far under the shady trees. Lizzie’s eyes lit up at the sight of the building.
“Oh, how grand.”
“The Palm House,” Markham explained. “Built only three years ago. There is a small pond beyond it if you want to take a look.”
She squeezed his arm. “This place is truly remarkable.”
He hid his grin. Finally, he had found a way to please her. Well, other than their interactions in the carriage, of course. There was no denying he pleased her then. His flesh still ached at the memory less than an hour old.
Lizzie had been so willing, so pliant. She tasted like the greatest delicacy and yet he had to put a stop to it. Despite the need throbbing in his trousers, deflowering Lizzie in the carriage was not what he had in mind.
Although Lady Harkmoor had slept right on through. In fact, when they arrived here, she promptly sat in a bench and shooed them on, assuring them she’d catch up in a few moments. That was a full thirty minutes ago.
“’Tis a shame,” she said, sighing, “that it is too early in the season for roses.”
A Tarnished Heart Page 19
