“Are you accusing Kitty of going after your brother for his money?”
“She wouldn’t be the first.”
Willie set her jaw firmly, just as she always had when she was angry. “A decade later and you’re still following your father’s example. You still think the worst of women, don’t you?”
“I’m simply waiting to be proven wrong.”
“You were,” she said quietly, almost too low for him to hear.
“Once, Willie, and even that’s debatable. Every woman after you has fulfilled my lowest expectations.”
She looked away, a pale blush spread across the creamy pale skin of her chest. “Mrs. Turner,” she reminded him, facing him once again. “Kitty’s not like that. She doesn’t need his money.”
“Both your parents are gone and last time I knew, you hadn’t a penny to your name. How can she not need my brother’s money?”
“Because I make sure she’s taken care of. I’d do anything for that girl, no matter how silly or naïve she is. She’s still mine to take care of.” She jutted her chin proudly, just as she always had. George had to remind himself that this was no longer the stubborn, hopeful young woman he once knew, but a strong, experienced widow standing before him.
“Mr. Turner left you comfortable then?”
“My finances are none of your concern. We are doing quite well considering our circumstance.”
He found that hard to believe. “Beg your pardon, Mrs. Turner, but a vicar and a viscount are two very different things. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll need to get on the road soon. I heard mention that there might be a great deal of rain coming, possibly snow, and I doubt the weather will hold off much longer.” He turned his back to her and continued gathering the necessary items from around the study.
“I can’t allow you to go by yourself,” Wilhelmina protested, ignoring his less than subtle hint that their discussion had ended. “There’s no way I could possibly trust you to address this situation fairly after the unwarranted judgement you’ve already made regarding Kitty’s character.”
“It’s only unwarranted if it’s not true and that remains to be seen, now doesn’t it?”
“I won’t let you do it, George.”
The use of his given name stopped him cold. He took a deep breath, then turned to her, arms folded across his chest. “What exactly do you propose I do then, Mrs. Turner?”
“Take me with you.”
Chapter 3
She’d fought the urge to wince at the way he spit her married name, but refused to allow his tone to intimidate her. He’d always worn his power like a veneer, smooth and attractive to the outside, but only a hair’s breadth thick. She knew best how to stand up to a man like the Marquess of Chesterton, just as she always had.
His irises darkened from the bright blue of a midsummer sky to the threatening depths of an ocean. “You’re being ridiculous, Mrs. Turner, and I think we both know there isn’t any time to waste on nonsensical propositions.”
“I was being completely serious. I’m going with you.”
“Well, you can’t,” he answered matter-of-factly.
“Why? Is your carriage too small for a passenger? Not accommodating for women?”
“Nothing of the sort!” he defended. “Like everything else in my life, the size of my carriage is most enviable and certainly large enough for any task. In fact, my carriage has been noted to be quite accommodating for female passengers.”
She felt her cheeks burn hot with the suggestive remark. “Then why not?” she said, feigning nonchalance.
He paused, as if trying to conjure up a reasonable excuse.
“Well?” she pressed.
“Because you’re a woman and it wouldn’t be proper to ride alone with you.”
“I’m not some delicate young girl about to make her debut,” she balked. “You just told me you were quite used to escorting ladies in your carriage. Why should I be any different?” Her purity was hardly an issue, considering she had none.
He’d already seen to that years ago.
“Plenty of women have been in my carriage, but not one of them was a lady. And certainly never a vicar’s wife.”
She felt her bravado waiver at the mention of other women. Of course, he’d never had a problem attracting the attention of the opposite sex and it was foolish of her to believe that he’d not enjoyed his fair share of romantic escapades over the years. Standing before her in all his half-naked glory, he was still just as virile as ever, raw masculinity radiating off of him, warming her to the core. “Well, perhaps it’s time we change that,” she proclaimed, mustering up what little was left of her courage. “I’m a widow now. Society doesn’t give a fig whose carriage I ride in, just as long as I’m dressed appropriately. Which I may attend to if you’d be so kind as to drive past my home so I may gather up a few things from my residence before our departure. You said to allow for a week of travel?”
“You really are living in London then?” he asked, changing the subject.
She nodded. “Not far from here. Just a few houses down, actually.”
Wilhelmina watched his eyes grow large, filling with confusion as he tried to understand, the dark slashes above them coming together, compelling her to explain. “I know you’re too well-mannered to ask how I could possibly afford it. Well, I can’t. But I’ve made amends and repented for the errors of my youth, all for Kitty. She may not be without her faults, but she’s a lovely girl with a sweet demeanor. She deserves a life more comfortable than anything I was able to provide for her. So, I did what I needed to get back in the good graces of my great aunt.”
His handsome face relaxed, reminding her more of the easy man she used to know. “So that’s what your sister was doing in Hyde. This is Miss Mark’s debut.”
Wilhelmina nodded. “That’s why she doesn’t need your family’s money. My aunt is seeing to our comfort which is precisely what makes the idea of Kitty seducing your poor, defenseless brother even more preposterous.”
“I never said my brother was defenseless, only without guile. Young men often fall prey to the wiles of women, confusing their feigned interest with genuine caring.” He didn’t need to raise his voice, the chill in his tone was enough to freeze her to the bone.
“Of course you’d come back to that.” This wasn’t the first time she’d heard such a statement before. Ten years prior, she was the woman supposedly feigning interest. He eagerly believed himself to be the victim. It was a convenient truth and far simpler than facing the reality of it all.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m sure you’re not here to rehash the past. Especially given the fact that you’ve been residing a few doors down from me for nearly half the month already and haven’t thought to make the effort before this.”
If she dared, she would have thought she detected resentment in his voice. “I’m here because Kitty deserves this chance, every opportunity that is afforded to her. Which is why I insist on coming with you. I won’t let anything jeopardize her future and rob her of her happiness.”
Like what happened to me, she finished silently.
“You don’t trust me?”
“Of course I don’t. I know too much about you.”
“And what exactly are you implying?”
“You’ll do anything to protect your family, you always have.”
“My brother’s future children will inherit the title one day, so I suppose that gives me a vested interest in his protection.”
She was confused. “What of your own children? Wouldn’t they be next in line?”
He chuckled. “Little chance of that ever happening. I’m not exactly the fatherly type. Which is why I’ll do what I must to protect him, the same as you would do for your sister.”
“Exactly. I know just what I’m capable of and just how far I’d go, which is why I won’t dare let you out of my sight.”
“If I promise to do what is best for her, will that put you at ease?”
“No,�
�� she stated with finality. “You forget, I know firsthand just how little your promise is worth.”
His jaw tensed. “You never gave me the chance to prove myself.” He spoke with a derisive chill in his tone.
She swallowed, feeling herself shrink in the wake of his statement. “It’s like I already told you. I know you all too well to ever trust you again.”
They matched gazes, her fiery green eyes challenging his own stare.
“Fine.” He looked away first, turning his attention back to the items he’d collected upon his desk. “If you want to join me, then you may.”
She squared her shoulders and stood a bit straighter having won their duel of wills. “Good.”
Without another word or a single glance, Chesterton left the room.
Not one to be left behind, Wilhelmina hurried after him, through the study and up the stairs.
“Where are we going?” she asked once they’d reached the top, breathless from the burst of activity.
He strode down the corridor, seemingly unaffected by the brisk climb. “To my bedroom.”
She immediately stopped. “Your bedroom? Why ever would we go in there?”
Chesterton turned back to her, one sardonic eyebrow arched high. “To change,” he answered. “You didn’t expect me to head out in this, did you?” He turned and continued toward the room, looking back at her before entering. “Are you coming?” he asked, voice smooth as warm chocolate.
This wasn’t the first time she’d been lured into George’s bedroom. He’d been an earl, the courtesy title bestowed upon him at birth, but more than that, he’d been a gentleman. Apparently, he’d lost that when he’d inherited the Marquisate. His bedroom was no longer an inviting sanctuary, and this invitation was not one of love as it had once been, but a lewd proposition, tenderness replaced by cruelty, as he watched expectantly for her reaction.
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” she stuttered, trying in vain to remain calm and collected as he started to untie the sash about his waist holding his robe closed. He let it fall to the ground and the robe opened, revealing his chest and torso in all its naked glory.
And it was indeed glorious.
She quickly averted her glance, whipping her head around and staring attentively at the painting on the wall.
“Is something the matter, Mrs. Turner?”
She was not about to play this game. She didn’t have the time, and he didn’t deserve the enjoyment it would undoubtedly bring him to see her suffer so. And most importantly, she couldn’t play because she knew good and well that she had no chance of winning.
Chapter 4
The carriage rocked back and forth along the rough street, but Wilhelmina sat board-straight, an invisible string holding her taut against the motion. She stared out the window, inspected the floor, admired the lush, burgundy upholstery – obviously determined to look at anything but him.
And he hadn’t been able to stop staring at her since the moment they’d left.
“I still can’t believe you were living so close,” he remarked, his voice breaking the icy silence like a rock to a frozen pond.
His mind wandered back to when they were younger. Willie spoke incessantly then, sharing with him even the most mundane details of her day, her words like a melody to his young ears. It would take hours of talking and watching those magnificent lips, before he’d finally garner enough courage to kiss her into silence.
Now, she hadn’t a thing to say to him. The ice may have shattered, but it was nothing but freezing cold depths below the surface.
George wished she would speak to him. After all, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d carried on a conversation with a woman that hadn’t revolved around marriage (his lack thereof), gowns (how pretty they looked in them), or baubles (how many could he buy them). Quite frankly, he doubted he even knew a woman who was capable of such a feat. The women he preferred to spend his time with were quite skilled orally, just not verbally.
“I must have forgotten to write and tell you. Silly me,” she said flatly, still gazing out the window.
He supposed it had been a foolish statement. They hadn’t spoken in ten years—how could he have known? He found the proximity…disconcerting. “We’re practically neighbors,” he mumbled to himself.
She finally turned to him, a lovely smirk on her face. “I’m sure you never expected to find me living in this part of London.”
He hadn’t meant that at all, but it was a fair observation. “I thought you hated London. You said it enough times.”
Willie squared her shoulders, even more so than they already were. “I never hated London, only Mayfair. And really, I enjoy the residences. The architecture is quite lovely. It’s the inhabitants I have the issue with. But, Kitty’s happiness is important to me and I’ll live wherever I must to make her so.”
“Which is what brings you to the residence of Lady Whitehead.” If his memory served him correctly, she was a relation on her mother’s side – the only side with any sort of fortune to speak of. Willie had been raised within the confines of genteel poverty, her mother having married well below her station. The juxtaposition of the two lives were always a source of conflict for Willie.
“It took a lot to get back into her good graces,” she answered, her tone defensive.
“I always knew she couldn’t stay mad at you for as long as she threatened. I have to admit, I’m more surprised that the old woman is still alive.” He’d been more shocked by that detail than he’d been by finding the woman he’d once believed to be the love of his life dripping wet and ruining the Persian rug in his foyer.
Willie’s hand flew to her chest. “Of course she’s still alive. What an awful thing to say.”
“What do you mean of course? The woman has to be at least a hundred by now. In fact, it’s been so long since I’ve seen her in Town I just assumed she’d passed.” He never would have guessed the old dragon was still around.
“You haven’t seen her because she’s been living on the Continent for years. She was so distraught over the scandal, she suffered a series of maladies. Her heart suffered terribly and her physician thought it best she take an extended tour. She may be of poor health, but she’s hardly ancient. She only celebrated her eighty-fourth year a few weeks ago.
“Only four and eighty years. My apologies for insinuating that she be anything but a maiden still wearing the fresh blush of youth upon her face. I can hardly wait to reunite with the charming girl.”
Willie leaned forward. “You of all people know that she’s nothing of the sort. But I’ll not have you speak ill of her. That woman was kind enough to take us in after Victor died. Without her, who knows where Kitty and I would be.”
“Kind,” he chuckled, “that’s certainly not a word I’d associate with Lady Whitehead.” His memories of the shrew had been anything but.
“Well, she’s the one who graciously rented us this home and is sponsoring Kitty for the Season. If that’s not kind, then I’m not sure what is.”
He leaned back on the bench, crossing his ankle over his knee. Years ago, Lady Whitehead had done everything in her power to thwart their relationship, constantly warning Willie that he’d ruin her and leave her to face the consequences on her own. He’d never forget the evening old Lady Whitehead confronted him in his father’s library, waving an arthritic finger an inch below his nose, telling him she knew all about his kind and that he’d never fulfill his promises to marry Willie, protect her, and love her always. How staunchly he’d defended himself, how adamantly he swore she was mistaken. He’d protested, stating he was different, that he wasn’t the kind of person she was painting him to be.
Their next and final confrontation had proven to be a fateful one, with the always proper Lady Whitehead having traded her usual weapons, a crooked finger and razor sharp tongue, for a more impactful pistol.
George felt the carriage slow. He imagined how different this scenario would have played out had he simply ran into Will
ie during one of his evening walks. Would she have spoken to him? Given him the time of day? Would he have even stopped to speak to her? She called him a coward once, a warranted insult. He had been, and he imagined still was. More likely, he would have turned around and walked the other way, hoping to avoid an awkward situation.
“We’re here,” she announced, interrupting his reverie. “I’ll go in and gather my things. Whatever you do – stay in the carriage.”
Instantly, his hand went to his thigh, the small dent where the ball had entered his leg, palpable through the fabric of his pants. “Don’t worry. I have every intention of staying safely in here.”
He thought he saw her wince slightly before exiting the carriage.
*
Wilhelmina dashed up the walk, the door opening before she’d had a chance to knock.
“Any word, Mrs. Turner?” the butler asked.
Before she could answer him, her aunt entered the foyer. Lady Whitehead, Aunt Louisa as she was known to family, was a full head shorter than herself and barely over seven stone, but her presence commanded the attention of the room as if she were a giant.
“Have you found her?” Louisa asked, her voice shaking with emotion.
Wilhelmina shook her head. “I have.”
Louisa looked around, as if she were stowing her behind the folds of her gown. “Where is she then?”
Willie took her aunt’s small hands into her own. “I know where she is and I’m going to retrieve her now. I’ll have it all straightened out in just a few days’ time.” She smiled timidly, hoping to convince the frail woman that she believed her own words to be true.
“You’re lying,” Louisa stated, snapping back her hands. “Why are you lying to me?”
Willie led her aunt by the elbow into the nearest drawing room. “I’m not lying…completely.”
Second Chance Marquess (Second Chance Series Book 1) Page 2
