“That will be my pleasure, my lord.”
Chapter 30
Vanessa Fane MacKintosh sat in her carriage outside Richard MacKintosh’s townhouse and watched for hours, waiting for her husband – …er, ex-husband – to exit the house. She chewed her lip, wondering what to do. It seemed the rumors flowing about town were true. Her husband had taken a mistress after all these years. Not since the first years of their marriage when Glenrothes had set out to prove his skills in the bedchamber to the ladies of Edinburgh and certainly not since their divorce, had she ever heard the smallest rumor about him taking a paramour. If he had, he’d been discretion personified. But word of this one had gotten around. Not just a courtesan either but an English countess. This noblewoman was a lovely woman, tall and blond. Cool, collected beauty such as hers had never failed to intimidate Vanessa.
Nervously, she worried over her thumbnail. Perhaps she should just take the money Francis had offered and go? Or should she hold out for more? Such a thing would make her a scorned woman, an object of ridicule. But no! She dismissed that idea with a sniff. Surely her father could stifle that as he had before. He wasn’t a man to allow rumor to run rampant about his family.
But Francis MacKintosh was a different man than the one she had married all those years ago. He was so rugged now and his temper was simply exciting. He was no boy any longer, he was truly a man. And God help her, where she had never wanted him before, she wanted him now. But could she get him and his money? That was the question. These past years she had lived only off the monies her husband had bribed her with and gifts given to her by her lovers. But she found as she grew older that lovers were becoming more scarce, wanting younger women, not those in their thirties. And she wanted more security than that. She wanted the freedom to buy whatever she wanted without worrying over her budget. She wanted a satisfying man in her bed.
In short, Vanessa wanted her husband back.
She imagined this new Glenrothes in her bed, imagined those big, muscular arms lifting her petite body. What a delight he would be!
But still there was a problem with her plan and that problem was the Countess of Shaftesbury.
As she chewed anxiously on her fingernail and contemplated the possibilities, the door to the carriage was flung open and, with a squeal of surprise, she watched as a tall, elegant man entered and sat himself comfortably on the seat opposite her. He straightened his jacket and tipped his hat at her while she gawked at him in shock. “Lady Glenrothes,” he addressed her, his voice bearing the softly cultured tones of London’s best. “It appears that we have something in common. Might we take a drive through the park and discuss it?”
Chapter 31
Abby and Moira were awaiting Eve when she arrived in the parlor late that afternoon. After the fervor of their initial lovemaking, Francis had carried her to the bed and made love to her once more before she had fallen asleep in his arms. While their second bout had begun more slowly than the first, their passion had again taken their control, culminating in the frantic joining it usually did. So worn out were they, sleep had claimed them both. It had been a disappointment to wake alone. Oh, she realized it was for the best, and that she should be thankful that Francis was providing the discretion she herself was lacking. But she had wanted very badly to awaken in his arms!
“So,” Moira drawled saucily as Eve joined them, “Glenrothes left a while ago, whistling merrily. He’ll be back for dinner later, by the by. I take it you’ve patched up your differences then?”
Eve blushed hotly and took a cup of tea from Abby, ignoring their questioning looks.
“He says that he’ll be staying in town for the remainder of the Season,” Abby added casually, though her eyes were twinkling and full of curiosity. “He hasn’t done that in more than five years! He said something about having some business to take care of here.”
“I can just imagine what his business is!” Moira chimed in, sotto voce, earning herself a sock in the arm from Eve as she did so.
“Moira MacKenzie!”
“Ouch!” Moira grumped as she rubbed her sore arm. “I say! That was uncalled for! Hmmm,” she said thoughtfully, assessing Eve’s rosy cheeks, “so how was your afternoon nap, Eve? Hmm? Appears to have been a good one…” She touched a spot below Eve’s eye and teased, “doesn’t look like you got much sleep though!”
Abby socked Moira on the other arm. “Ouch! What was that for?”
“Stop teasing Eve, Moira,” Abby said sternly. She regarded Eve over the rim of her daintily held teacup before setting it aside. “Alright then, Evie, let’s get right to the point of it.”
“Point of what?” Eve asked suspiciously.
Abby’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Tell us… how was Francis MacKintosh?”
“Abygail Merrill!” Eve gasped and flushed in astonishment, chastising Abby much as she would have in school to mask her embarrassment. “How can you ever ask such a thing of me?”
“Must have been pretty good then,” Moira confirmed with a broad grin, while Abby nodded in return. “Yes, the cheeks are rosy, the smile won’t seem to go away entirely, the tension in her posture seems to have diminished…” Moira ticked off the results of the previous evening and that afternoon on her fingers.
“What would you know of it, Moira?” Eve ducked her chin in embarrassment and patted her cheeks as if to assess the rosiness of them herself.
“Oh, she has books!” Abby offered, raising her teacup in salute. “Don’t worry about Moira, she might know more than both of us put together!”
“I believe in a well-rounded education!” Moira defended with a wicked smile. “But let’s get back to the matter at hand.” She turned to Eve again. “Well?”
Eve was curious about Moira’s education and resolved to ask about it later. She waffled a moment in the impropriety of her evening before confessing, “It was wonderful!” She blushed again over the admission.
“I knew it!” Moira crowed.
“As it was last night as well.”
“Evelyn Preston!” they exclaimed in unison.
“And he asked me to marry him,” Eve added with a shaky smile.
Her two friends squealed and reached over to embrace her. “Oh, Eve!” Abby gushed. “I knew it would happen! I just knew it! Francis is a different man when he’s with you and I’m sure he knows you would never treat him as Vanessa did. I’m so glad he worked up the nerve to ask!”
“When’s the wedding?” Moira asked.
Eve flushed a bit and shook her head. “Well, there isn’t going to be one.”
“You’re eloping?” Moira squawked in disbelief. “You!?”
“No, actually I told him no.”
It took several moments for the two women to pick their jaws up off the floor before they bombarded her with more questions.
Chapter 32
Late the next afternoon, Francis stormed into his study and paced furiously, surprising Richard and Jack as they took their brandy near the fireplace. They watched in silence as he paced in anger, then stopped and slapped his riding crop viciously against the desk several times before throwing it in the fireplace.
Richard and Jack exchanged looks, then Richard drawled in a bored tone, “Something amiss, brother?”
“Aye! Women!”
“Ahhh,” Richard nodded studying his fingernails nonchalantly.
“Perhaps it is just one woman in particular who is bothering you,” Jack observed, swirling his brandy about the snifter. “Which is it? The one who won’t come to you or the one who won’t go away?”
“That bitch!” Francis swore, tossing the remains of the crop into the fire.
“Well, I guess that answers that question.” Jack’s thick burr purred through the room as he shared a significant look with Richard. “What has she done now?”
“Nessa has been spreading rumors around town today that I abused her and threatened her to leave town when we were wed and that she had fled in fear for her very life before I divorced he
r! James, too, heard at the hotel that she’s saying I threatened to kill her.”
“I might be wrong here,” Jack drawled, “but didn’t you do just that?”
“No in so many words,” Francis denied, pouring himself a brandy and downing it in a single gulp before pouring another. “I never threatened it verbally, regardless of how many times I thought it, but what can she think to gain by spouting such bile? What can the sympathies of Society bring her?”
“Vanessa isn’t the brightest lass in the world, but even she knows not to air her laundry to the entire town. She must have a purpose in doing so,” Richard commented thoughtfully. “Perhaps she is thinking that if she gains the sympathies of the ladies of the local Society, she will be allowed back within their fold.”
“But that would indicate that she is planning to stay here,” concluded Jack. “Surely the bitch must know that her true colors will fly and be recognized quickly. She might get back into the fleet but they will broadside her just as quickly.”
“True enough analogy,” Francis agreed, taking a more reasonable sip from his libation as he joined the men before the fire. “Discretion has never been her strong suit. She made a cuckold of me brazenly and publically. Surely Society hasn’t forgotten that.”
“And in turn, you humiliated her publically by divorcing her in the Queen’s own courts,” Jack reminded. “A bit of revenge, you think?”
“She hasn’t attempted to regain a place in Edinburgh Society before, usually favoring London or Paris. Why now?” Francis wondered. “She must have some motive to face the cut most would give a divorcée of her reputation.”
Richard rubbed his lower lip thoughtfully. “I wonder if we could get someone close enough to her to find out what she is up to.”
“Who would do that?” Jack snorted into his brandy.
Francis and Richard shared a speaking glance before both turned to Jack expectantly. Catching their look, Jack glanced in confusion between the two for a moment before his face lit with comprehension. “Hell, no! Don’t look at me! I hate that bitch!”
“Don’t we all?” Francis consoled. “My friend…”
“This friend already gave up an obscenely wealthy heiress to you,” Jack argued, shaking his head. “I will not get within ten, no twenty feet of your former wife’s clutches. You already owe me one.”
“He has you there, brother,” Richard concurred.
“Who then?” Francis wondered. “Jamie, maybe? Ian or Tam? Everyone else is married or too young to take her on.”
“She wouldn’t care.”
“True,” Francis went on, “though their wives might. But still, I’d like to know what she’s up to.”
“Listen, Francis,” Jack suggested, leaning forward to prop his elbows on his knees. “Why don’t you get out of town for a couple of days? Make her think you retreated? I’m sure without you here, any plan she might have would be ineffective.”
“Might look like an admission of guilt, too,” Richard corrected.
Francis shook his head. “I go back and forth between here and Glen Cairn regularly when I’m in town. I don’t think there is much to be gained by making a point of leaving, when I do so often enough anyway. I doubt it would even be noticed. Besides, I feel it might be detrimental to let her out of my sights for long. Who knows what might happen?” The men couldn’t help but agree. “Perhaps I’ll talk to Jamie. If nothing else, he could seduce her maid into finding out something for him.”
“It’s a grave assignment, but one he might be able to live with,” Richard snorted indelicately.
“I’ll take that one,” Jack offered magnanimously.
“Sure you will.”
“Sure and the maid might be able to offer names of the bitch’s current lovers,” Jack went on. “You could threaten to expose her affairs if she doesn’t stop her accusations against you.”
Richard looked skeptical. “She wouldn’t care.”
“But the men would, especially if they are married. They would keep her quiet. A bit of blackmail, but it might work. These past days I have felt none of Society’s sting from the scandal as I have in years past and I want none of it now as I court Eve. I need Nessa silenced and well away from here as quickly as possible. Well,” Francis raised his glass. “A plan then! Jack takes the maid and we’ll move forward from there!”
“Hear, hear,” Jack toasted with his glass. “Shouldn’t be difficult to come up with a few men she’s having affairs with.”
“Few dozen, more like,” Richard grunted and they all nodded, raising their glasses as Godfrey entered clearing his throat. “Aye, Godfrey, what is it?” Francis asked without looking up.
“Lady Shaftesbury is here to see you, my lord,” the butler responded, allowing just a bit of pleasure to show through. “I’ve put her in the drawing room, my lord.”
“If you gentlemen will excuse me.” Francis stood and straightened his jacket and cravat.
Jack snorted into his drink. “You make me ill.”
With a laugh, Francis made his way to the drawing room, closing the door behind him before he scooped Eve up into his embrace, swinging her about in a circle. “What brings you here? I thought to see you tonight.” He wrapped his arms around her and she melted into him. “And later tonight…” he whispered, pressing hot kisses onto her shoulder and neck. “God,” he groaned, “I have missed you. One very long night and morning without you and I missed you.”
Evelyn clung to him, catching his mouth in a passionate kiss. “I have missed you, too, my love.” Would she never get used to the bliss of being in his arms? Of the wanton heat that enflamed her when he kissed her? It was most inappropriate for a proper lady to feel this way.
“I need you, Eden. God help me, I need you.” He squeezed her so hard she feared her ribs would break. "Eve. Eden, sweet paradise," he whispered, his voice thick with want. “I want you. I love you.”
Francis felt her body shake in response to his words, her heart beating heavily against his chest.
Eve pulled back, remembering her purpose in defying the rules once again to show up at his door. “Lock the door, Francis.”
As he did so, Eve paced the drawing room. “This is incredibly hard for me. It was one thing for you to have a faceless ex-wife. It was quite another to see her face to face in your arms yesterday.” She shuddered again at this image.
“I did not want her in my arms, Eden,” he defended. “I thought we had covered that.”
Eve heaved a great sigh and picked off her black satin gloves, one finger at a time, dropping them on a small table. “We did. But it is simply beyond the pale for me to come face to face with her in public, Francis. And I’m not sure if I can deal with that at all.”
“What are you talking about?”
"You said that you wouldn't let anything hurt me because of this, but it is, Francis. It seems everywhere I have gone today, that woman is there, announcing her presence and identity to anyone who doesn’t remember her and to all who will listen. She came to the Duchess of Roxburghe’s garden party this afternoon! She gave me the cut direct. It was humiliating.” Eve shuddered with the memory of coming face to face with the ex-countess. She couldn’t deny that Vanessa was a beautiful woman, dark and earthy. Petite in a way that had always made Eve feel awkward. The woman had looked her up and down with a nasty smirk on her lips before cutting Eve in front of the entire party. Abby had argued that Eve should have done it first, but Eve just didn’t have it in her to be so rude. “Everyone whispered and kept looking back and forth between us. How does everyone know about you and me anyway? All this gossip is appalling. It could ruin my reputation.”
Apparently she did not know that her reputation had already received a light tarnish over the past week as a result of his open pursuit of her at the Glenrothes ball, their more public courting and tales being spread by Vanessa. If she knew that much, she would be more than appalled. He wondered how many years it would be before she cast off the past and completely found hersel
f again.
“Rumors only, my love. But do you not think this pains me as much as it does you? Do you not think every time I look at her I want to kill her for what she has done to me? What she is now doing to us?” His voice was heavy. Catching her hand as she paced by, he pulled her to stand between his legs and wrapped his arms about her hips, his head resting against her belly.
“There will never be a happily ever after for us, will there? No happy ending.” Evelyn's voice was sad as she stroked his black hair.
“Give it some time, please. She’ll leave eventually, when she needs more money. I heard her father has cut her off.”
“Will it ever be enough?” Evelyn sighed and pulled away from him. “Even if she takes the money, I somehow wager she will stay simply to taunt you.”
“We will be together, though. Her presence will be insignificant.” He started working on the buttons up the front of her bodice. “You will be mine. You are mine.”
“And I always will be, but I cannot take this sort of humiliation. I don’t want to be an object of speculation. Living like a thief in the dark.” She faced the fire. “I have to get away from it, Francis. I have to leave. I'm going home.”
“I'm not going to let you go,” he whispered fiercely.
“I have to go. At least until it’s all over.”
“No.”
“Will you try to stop me?” she dared with a raised brow.
“You will not run away,” he argued, meeting her challenging expression with one of his own. “You would not give her the satisfaction. If you want to put her firmly in her place, marry me. An engagement between us will have her actions smacking of petty jealousy.”
“I won’t marry you just to stop her, Francis.”
“Marry me because you love me then.” He pressed a kiss between her breasts uplifted by her corset. “Marry me because you want me.”
“I do want you.” She threw her head back, savoring the feel of his hot tongue as it dipped down into her cleavage.
A Question of Love Page 21
