Seduced by a Marquis (Regency Unlaced 8)

by Carole Mortimer

  Lysander continued to hold on tightly to Bella’s hand as the two of them quietly left the library and moved stealthily down the semidarkness of the hallway toward the back of the house rather than the front. There were far too many people milling about in the entrance hall of the main house, as well as the reception rooms, for them to be able to leave that way without detection. Which was why Lysander had decided they should leave through the servants’ entrance.

  Bella gave a nervous giggle as the two of them rounded a corner and ducked into a doorway as one of the footmen appeared, bearing yet another salver of food for the wedding breakfast. “I feel as if we are two naughty children escaping the attention of the adults,” she explained when Lysander gave her a questioning glance.

  He gave a wolfish grin as they once again moved quietly toward the door through which they could make good their escape. “I assure you there is nothing childlike about the way I am feeling right now.”

  Bella’s own body was literally humming with excitement and anticipation of the night ahead.

  And a little nervousness too.

  What if she was not what Lysander expected in a wife? What if the satisfaction of their lovemaking yesterday had only been something that happened because tensions and emotions were running high? What if she could not respond to Lysander in the same uninhibited way she had yesterday?

  And perhaps he would not want her to now she was his wife.

  Bella knew, from talking to married friends, that most society wives merely tolerated their husbands’ lovemaking rather than enjoyed it, as a means to providing the heir rather than any real enthusiasm for the act itself. Nor did their husbands expect them to. Perhaps Lysander would now expect her to behave with the modesty and decorum of other wives.

  “What are you thinking?”

  She moistened her lips nervously as she realized Lysander had come to a halt and was now looking at her curiously.

  “The truth, Bella,” he encouraged huskily.

  She winced. “I was hoping I would not be a disappointment to you as a wife.”

  He appeared puzzled. “In what way?”

  “I have heard tell… It is said gentlemen do not expect their wives…” She straightened her shoulders, determined not to keep stumbling over her words like this. Lysander was her husband. And he expected honesty from her. “I will try not to behave, to respond so…wantonly in our marriage bed as I did yesterday.”

  His brows shot up to his hairline. “I shall be exceedingly disappointed if you do not.”

  Her eyes widened. “You will?”

  Lysander’s expression softened when he saw the lingering uncertainty in Bella’s eyes. “Whatever you have heard a gentleman requires from his wife, I wish you to dismiss it completely from your mind. This gentleman requires his wife to be whatever she wishes to be in our marriage bed. Preferably a passionate vixen,” he added warmly.

  “Oh.”

  He chuckled softly. “The sooner we leave this place, the sooner I will be able to convince you of that.”

  Being only March, there was a cool breeze blowing outside, and they hadn’t wasted time, or possible detection, on collecting their cloaks before leaving.

  Thankfully, Lysander was quickly able to locate his carriage and grooms among so many waiting to return the guests to their homes later this evening. “Trent House,” he instructed the groom once he and Bella had climbed inside the lamp-lit vehicle.

  He waited only long enough for the door to be closed before crossing to sit beside Bella and take her in his arms. She felt chilled, and considering their earlier conversation, Lysander did not think it was from the few minutes they had spent in the cold outside. “There really is no reason for you to be in the least nervous, Bella,” he assured her gently. “I promise you, my physical needs are the same as any other man’s.”

  Which did not soothe or calm Bella’s ragged nerves in the slightest.

  What were a man’s physical needs?

  Did he require lovemaking more than once a night?

  Perhaps even during the daylight hours, as the two of them had done yesterday?

  Did Lysander expect her to make love to him with her lips and hands in the same way he had made such exquisite love to her?

  Bella might have been forced into being Arthur’s lure for the blackmail he practiced on his male victims, but that did not mean she was experienced in the ways of giving a man pleasure. Arthur had usually brought things to a halt well before her seductions reached that stage.

  Perhaps she should have taken the opportunity this past week to speak to Angelique about her wedding night. But it had not seemed appropriate. She doubted Angelique would have felt comfortable discussing the finer nuances of the marriage bed with Bella when her own son was to be the recipient of that advice.

  No, she would have to act on pure instinct—or rather, impure instinct—alone.

  At the age of one and twenty, and having been Arthur’s lure to unsuspecting gentlemen these past five years, she imagined Lysander would expect her to be more sophisticated than she actually—

  “What the deuce—” Lysander released Bella to sit forward in his seat as the carriage slowed, and he heard the sound of raised voices. His grooms’ and several others.

  He pulled back the curtain to look outside as the carriage came to a complete halt, but unfortunately, it was darker outside than it was in, preventing him from making out more than several shadowy shapes moving about in that darkness.

  Those shapes, and the fact the carriage had made this unscheduled stop, was enough to cause Lysander to feel uneasy. Only yesterday, Bella and Esther has been involved in an “accident” he still had his doubts was an accident at all, despite Reynolds’s denial of any involvement.

  His grooms had also stopped their shouts of protest…

  “Lysander…?”

  He dropped the curtain back into place before quickly blowing out the lamp and turning to Bella. Not that he could now see her in the sudden darkness of the carriage, but he could hear the uneven sound of her breathing. “Whatever happens, I want you to remain silent and in the carriage, and let me deal with this.” It was not unheard of for carriages to be waylaid and the occupants divested of their money and jewels. Although that usually happened in the countryside, not in a respectable area of England’s capital.

  Much as it galled him, Lysander could only hope this was an exception, and not, as he suspected, another attempt on Bella’s life. He would cheerfully hand over his purse, but he would not allow a hair on Bella’s head to be harmed, and the confines of the carriage would make it difficult to protect or shield her. Yes, far better it was a robbery, pure and simple, than anything more sinister.

  “Whatever happens? What do you mean?” Bella’s voice sounded shaky and a little frightened. “Lysander what—” She broke off her nervous questions as the carriage door was suddenly flung open.

  Lysander smelled the man before he saw him: raw alcohol and unwashed sweat. Definitely not one of his grooms. A flint was struck, and Lysander’s eyes took several seconds to adjust as the lamp was relit inside the carriage before the flame was extinguished, that light revealing Lysander and Bella were the only passengers.

  It also revealed that the man standing in the carriage doorway held a pistol in his hand, pointed in the general direction of the two of them.

  “Well, if it’s not the Marquis of Trent and his new bride,” the man taunted as he pocketed the flint.

  The return of light also allowed Lysander to see and recognize the lascivious gleam in rheumy dark eyes, and the gap-toothed, leering smile on the man’s face as he stared at Bella in her wedding finery. The man’s nondescript hair was a greasy tangle down to his shoulders. “If it is money you are after, then take my purse and be gone with you.” Lysander spoke in his most autocratic voice as he removed his purse from his waistcoat pocket.

  The man snatched the purse, giving the coins inside a satisfying shake before secreting it away in his coat pocket with t
he flint. “And if it’s not only your money I want?” the man taunted.

  Lysander’s lips thinned. “Then I am afraid you are going to have a fight on your hands.”

  The man gave a wheezy laugh. “Seems to me I’m the one holdin’ the pistol!”

  “For now.” Lysander gave a tilt of his head.

  Dark eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Exactly as it sounded.” Lysander’s voice was pleasantly soft, as if he were discussing the weather rather than having a pistol pointed at him. “If you so much as touch my wife, I am going to kill you.”

  “And how are you going to do that?” the man taunted.

  “What have you done with my grooms?” Lysander changed the subject, having no intention of discussing how he intended to disarm this ruffian and shoot him with his own pistol if it became necessary.

  Besides, he was genuinely concerned for his grooms. There had not been the sound of any shots being fired, but neither were either of the two men rushing to their rescue.

  “Me men have gagged the pair of them and are tyin’ them up like trussed chickens even as we speak.” The other man gave another gap-toothed smile.

  “What do you want with us?” Bella demanded, having no intention of doing what Lysander had asked and remain silent. Contrary to what he may think of her, she was not a naturally passive person. Arthur had bullied and blackmailed her into compliance. She believed Lysander was too much of a gentleman to do the same.

  She had been so consumed with thoughts of her wedding night that she had not at first comprehended they were being accosted by robbers on their journey home. Although this man’s words seemed to imply he wanted more than that.

  Could this possibly be Arthur’s doing?

  Would her brother be so petty and vengeful he wished to ruin even her wedding day?

  If her brother was involved in this, then it put a completely different perspective on the accident in the park yesterday. As Lysander had suspected all along…

  “You? Well, we intends to have a little fun with you before we dispose of you. Him?” The man nodded at Lysander. “He’s comin’ to the docks with us right now, and after I’ve shot him, he’s goin’ for a little swim.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “He is attempting to be humorous, Bella,” Lysander snapped. “I believe he expects me to accompany him to the docks so that he can kill me and then dispose of the body, and that afterward, the three of them intend to sport with you.” His eyes blazed with fury at the latter.

  “Ain’t nothin’ funny about bein’ shot and killed and drowned, mate,” the other man taunted.

  Bella decided against correcting the man that it was not possible to both shoot and kill someone and then drown them. He could either shoot and kill Lysander, or drown him, not both. Neither of which she intended to just calmly sit back and watch happen.

  She gave a snort. “You seriously expect me to sit here and meekly wait for you to turn your attentions on me after you have abducted my husband with the intention of killing him?” She stared incredulously at the filthy man.

  At the same time, she ridiculously, given the circumstances, felt an inward thrill at referring to Lysander as her husband for the first time.

  “I seriously don’t give a fu—”

  Their assailant got no further as Lysander, taking advantage of Bella having distracted their assailant, now suddenly surged forward. He disarmed the other man in two swift chops of his hand before picking up the pistol himself and leveling it at the ruffian’s chest.

  “That fucking hurt!” The man cradled his injured wrist to his chest with his other hand.

  “You will not use such language in front of my wife,” Lysander snapped coldly. “And your wrist does not hurt as much as a bullet will if you and your associates do not take yourselves off immediately,” he added grimly, continuing to point the pistol at the attacker’s chest as he moved forward, forcing their injured assailant to step back. Lysander collected the lamp from the carriage before he stepped down to the cobbled street. “Gentlemen.” He eyed the two men just straightening from tying up his grooms.

  The taller one gasped upon seeing the pistol in Lysander’s hand and not his associate’s. “What the fuck, Billy—”

  “I believe your friend Billy and I have already agreed you will cease using that coarse language in my wife’s presence,” Lysander remarked with an outward calm he was far from feeling. Bella was indeed present, having also stepped down from the carriage.

  If he had been alone, he would have taken great pleasure in ensuring these three men never forgot this evening. But he was ever mindful of the fact Bella was here. Although she appeared outwardly composed, he believed it was for the benefit of their assailants rather than a genuine feeling of calm. It was to her credit she had not dissolved into fits of hysteria at first sight of the ruffian pointing a pistol at them both.

  Which was not to say Lysander was not furiously angry at her for having disobeyed him by first engaging in conversation with his would-be murderer and now leaving the carriage. She would draw undue attention to herself and put herself at further risk by doing so, in blatant disregard for Lysander’s instructions.

  There would be retribution for that disobedience later.

  “Think you can take on all three of us, do you?” the shortest of the three men challenged with a cocky swagger.

  Lysander bared his teeth in a smile. “Oh, I believe so. Do you not agree, Billy?” He quirked a mocking brow as the first man still clutched his injured wrist.

  “I’m not leavin’ without me pistol,” Billy answered him. “Cost good money, that did.”

  He nodded. “If you would care to supply your address, I will endeavor to see the weapon is returned to you tomorrow.”

  “Very amusing, I’m sure.” Billy scowled his displeasure with Lysander’s mockery. “We’re wasting our time here, lads,” he conceded. “Better to leave while we still can than for one or more of us to get killed.”

  “We won’t get paid if we don’t kill him,” the shortest man whined.

  Lysander’s attention focused on him at this confirmation someone had paid them to accost and kill him. The fact this was all to take place in front of Bella, after which they would do God knows what to her before also killing her, only deepened Lysander’s anger. “Paid by whom?”

  “Run, lads!” Billy shouted even as he turned and loped off into the darkness, quickly followed by the other two men. All three of them were immediately swallowed up by the shadowed streets leading off the main thoroughfare.

  “Dear God…” Bella put out a hand and leaned weakly against the side of the carriage. Her knees threatened to buckle beneath her now that the immediate danger was over.

  “Indeed.”

  Bella glanced sharply at Lysander’s back as he went down on his haunches, placing the lantern on the ground but retaining the pistol as he released the two grooms from their bindings. She had never heard that icy coldness in his tone before. “Lysander…?”

  “Not now, Bella,” he bit out as he straightened, once again holding the lantern.

  The grooms’ pride appeared to be hurt, rather than either of them having suffered any physical injury as they brushed dirt and other substances from their livery.

  “I believe it is time we returned home.” Lysander pointedly held the carriage door open for Bella. “We will talk of this further once we are in the privacy of our bedchamber,” he stated as she would have spoken.

  Bella felt totally miserable as Lysander climbed into the carriage behind her, once again placing the lantern on the hook before settling on the seat opposite her rather than beside her as he had before. He pulled back the curtain and stared out the window as the carriage moved forward seconds later, his expression stonier than Bella had ever seen it. His resemblance to his stern and disdainful older brother, Sebastian, had never been more noticeable.

  Bella gave a shiver as the gulf which now existed between them see
med much farther than a carriage width…

  Chapter 11

  In view of that estrangement, Bella had no idea what to expect once they reached Trent House.

  “I have several things to do in my study before retiring for the night,” Lysander informed her coolly. “Hatfield will show you up to your bedchamber, and I will join you shortly.” Without waiting to see if Bella intended to make a reply, he turned sharply on his heel before striding down the hallway to the left of the cavernous entrance hall, leaving Bella alone there with the butler.

  “If you will come this way, my lady.” The elderly man’s voice was kind, at least, as he began to lead the way up the stairs.

  Unlike Lysander’s.

  Bella had visited Trent House only once more during the previous week, with Angelique. The older woman had insisted Bella must take a look at the house to see if there were any changes she wished to make before she became its mistress. A wholly unnecessary exercise when Bella had no intention of disturbing Lysander’s comfort any more than their marriage was sure to do.

  As she knew from her previous overnight stay, the bedchambers were all situated on the third floor. It was to one of these that Hatfield took her.

  Bella had adored her bedchamber when she viewed it four days ago. It was a beautiful and restful room, with pale green and cream décor. The furnishings were cream, with gold leaf edging the same as the paneled cream walls. There were half a dozen wall sconces bearing lit candles. A cheery fire also blazed in the pale marble fireplace.

  A warmth which did not in any way succeed in melting the ice currently flowing through Bella’s veins.

  “Might I bring you some refreshment, my lady?” The butler lingered to offer. “Or perhaps send up your maid to assist you?”

  Bella’s own maid was still at Winslow House, as far as she knew. A tight-lipped and waspish woman Bella would not miss in the slightest, especially as she suspected she was another of Arthur’s sycophants who reported Bella’s movements to him.

  Angelique had supplied one of her own maids for Bella during her stay at Landingham House, and it was that same maid who had now accompanied her to Trent House. Jane was a pleasant-faced young woman with a cheerful nature, but still Bella did not believe she wished to be subjected to Jane’s chatter this evening. Or her unspoken speculation in regard to the wedding night ahead.