A Viscount of Mystery

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  "So you will not object if I pursue her as my wife? Court her as she deserves?" Marcus wanted to be completely certain before he made even one overture towards the woman in question. Thus far, the only thing preventing him from simply whisking her away to Gretna Green had been Candlewood's admonition not to upset Caroline's life. If his friend had for some unknown reason changed his mind? Then Marcus was ready to be done with this foolery. He'd had plenty of time in Bath to make sense of what he wanted out of life. And what he wanted was Caroline.

  The duke shook his head. "Not any longer." Then he looked away for a moment. "She has secrets, Breckenright. Quite a few of them. I discovered them quite by accident. Nor will I divulge them - to you or anyone else. They are not for me to say. If you cannot get past that, cannot accept whatever it is that she might share, then walk away. If, however, you are the man I have always known you to be, then, though it will not be easy, I would advise you to find a way to win her heart."

  Nodding, Marcus adjusted his grip on his cane, feeling his right leg give just a bit, though whether it was from pain or something else, he did not know. "I love her," he replied simply. "I always have. And I would tell her so if only the blasted woman would listen instead of attempting to match me with another young thing from the marriage mart." He winced when he heard the edge of anger that laced his voice. He was attempting to be less angry. Truly.

  To Marcus' surprise, that made Candlewood laugh. "Love can overcome much, my friend. At least I pray that it can." At that, he glanced up the stairs again, but Marcus noted that Lady Berkshire was gone and that Nicholas' gaze did not linger when he discovered her absence. "Now go. Find her. Sweep her off her feet like the rake you once were." His gaze strayed to Marcus' bad leg. "For I do not think that she views you with the same jaded eye that the rest of society does. She sees only you and not the outer trappings."

  Then Candlewood was gone, sweeping through the foyer and out the front door in a flurry of black evening clothes, his dark looks giving him an even deeper air of anger laced with a hint of danger. The throng of assembled guests made a path for the duke without him needing to ask or command. They simply did.

  Marcus envied his friend that skill, especially since given the cane he still clutched to his side, sweeping his way out of a room was not actually possible. He had little time to brood over the matter however, for the receiving line began moving forward and he knew it would take all of his concentration to navigate the steep steps of the Saintwood's home. In that moment, he was thankful that his father had been blessed with the good sense to chose a town home with wide, forgiving stairs. That made navigation so much easier.

  As he scanned the assembled crowd, he sought out a mane of thick, dark hair and a tall, willowy body. Amongst the crush of curvier ladies, she should not have been difficult to spot. And she was not. In fact, dressed in a gown of the palest aqua, so light that it was almost the color of ice, she was remarkably easy to see in the crowd.

  She was also surrounded by a bevy of young ladies, all of whom Caroline probably viewed as potential matrimonial choices for him.

  With a growl, Marcus stalked off to find the card room before he entered the ballroom. He needed time to cool his anger and seeing the ladies, and a few young men, circling around Caroline like bees at a hive was not improving his disposition. Not to mention that Candlewood had given him much to think about. He was more anxious than ever to have Caroline for his own. However he still was not quite certain how to go about it.

  The night was bordering on disaster, Caroline decided as she watched Lady Elizabeth Ashford making calf eyes at Lord Hathaway. Miss Ashford was one of a number of new young women that Caroline had hoped to introduce to Marcus in the hopes that he might find a prospective bride more to his liking. Thus far, he had not seemed overly enthusiastic about any of the ladies she had recommended to him, much to her dismay.

  No, the only two women currently capturing his attention were Lady X and Caroline herself. Darn stubborn, pigheaded man.

  Why could he not be manageable like the other men of her acquaintance, she wondered as she watched the dancers swirl around the lavishly decorated room? Why could he not be easily led or, at the very least, have the good grace to be attracted to someone like Lady Diana, as most of the other men of the ton were? Then again, given that Diana herself was looking at Lord Hathaway with something closely resembling longing, perhaps it was time Caroline abandoned the hope of that particular match. Neither Diana nor Marcus seemed overly enthused about the idea.

  In fact, no young lady Caroline had approached so far seemed to take to the idea of wedding Marcus.

  When Caroline had first conceived the idea, she had thought it rather brilliant. She would use her Lady X column to fan the flames of interest in Marcus and then, when all of society was abuzz about his return to town, Caroline would use her social connections to help him make a brilliant match. She would finally see him happy after so many years of misery.

  Her plan had succeeded - to a degree. Society matrons and lords alike gossiped rather extensively about Marcus, wondering where he had resided while in Bath, how much his leg had recovered, and most especially, how well he could still see. That, however, wasn't precisely the sort of gossip she had been attempting to create.

  Rather, she had wanted the young ladies to wonder at his strength and be in awe of his still rather handsome visage. She wanted them to take in his broad shoulders and narrow waist and see the sleek, powerful man who owned them. She wanted them to notice his tender heart, despite how deeply it was buried beneath much bluster and, yes, outright anger.

  Yet they saw none of those things. Instead, most women saw a once-handsome man who was not the same as he once was. They remembered him as a consummate rake, a man given to indulging in pleasures of the flesh, keeping mistresses and over-indulging on drink some nights. They remembered the raw, powerful man he had been and could not see the flawed but still desirable man he was now.

  Caroline could, however, which did not sit well on her conscience. For if she was being honest, there was a part of her that was relieved that the ladies of the ton did not see Marcus as a prime matrimonial candidate. The longer he was not betrothed, the longer she could remain in his company, no matter how inappropriate.

  In truth, she wanted Marcus for herself. She just could not have him and that was not likely to change. In fact, she was about as likely to marry Marcus as it was likely that Lady Ursula Saintwood would throw a horrible party. Which was to say not likely at all.

  In fact, this was, by far, one of the lady's most perfect and romantic settings ever. Though the town house the family rented while in London was plain in comparison to Oak Grove, the ancestral country home of the Marquess of Waterdown, where the Saintwood family normally resided, it was still quite lovely, with high ceilings and the most delightful gold and scarlet brocade wallpaper that had somehow been softened, giving the room a warm and inviting feeling.

  Tonight, hundreds of glittering stars - made of what Caroline could not even begin to guess - had been hung from the ceiling and in the center, the large chandelier had been covered with something resembling a Chinese lantern, making it appear to be an overly large but brightly lit moon. The rest of the room had been cloaked in shadows, the candles sparse so that for the most part, the dancers were cast in the shadowy glow of candlelight. Though the darkness was not exactly scandalous, it was dim, allowing a feeling of seduction to permeate the room.

  The normally heavy draperies had been removed, replaced with silvery, shimmering thin satin panels, and the doors to the terrace were flung open wide, allowing the night air to swirl through the room, brushing the curtains aside and making them appear to dance and twirl in the air. Mirrors had also been placed strategically throughout the room, reflecting what light the glowing beeswax candles gave off and adding an additional air of mystery to the entire setting.

  It was beautiful. It was perfect. And most of all, it was not for her. At least not as long as she was L
ady X.

  In that moment, Caroline hated her uncle with a passion she had not felt in many years. Because of him, she was unsuitable as a wife. She had to work for her keep, something a woman of her class would never deign to degrade herself by doing. She was also no longer as innocent as she had once been. She was a master forger, a liar, and, one might argue, a thief as well. Then there was the little matter of the duel that had killed her uncle.

  If she had only forged that blasted document correctly, just as he had first demanded, he would not have been challenged to meet on the dueling field. He would not have spent the night before drinking and railing at her for her disobedience, cursing her for standing in the way of all that he desired. She would not have been given to a man for a night as punishment, her uncle looking on and drinking even more while she was deflowered against her will. Her uncle would not have then risen after only an hour of sleep to face another scoundrel on a desolate dueling field in Northumbria. He would not be dead. If not for her, her uncle would still be alive.

  On the other hand, if not for that night, she would still be stuck in the north of the country doing God-only-knows-what to please her uncle. She would be married to a man who thought that rape was acceptable. Preferable really, especially if the woman in question was his wife. Her cousin Norbert would still be suffering abuse at his father's hands as well.

  Because of her, they were free.

  She might not be an innocent any longer and she might have had to work to support herself - well in the beginning anyway - but she was still alive. She had a chance to do penance for her sins. She could make right things that were wrong. She could start by finding Marcus a wife.

  A position that she desired but could never have.

  At that thought, a tear slipped down her cheek and she pushed it away. She had not cried in years. There was no reason to start now. The past was just that. The past. She could not change it. She could not undo it. The best she could hope for was to make something better of the future.

  With a wish of longing in her heart, she turned away from the dance floor, determined to go find Marcus and force him to dance with... Well, she did not know who, but some young lady that might finally catch his eye. He had promised to be agreeable after all. Or at least agreeable enough, whatever that meant.

  As she turned, she ran into an unmoving wall of hard, well-sculpted muscle. She knew the owner of this body without even having to see his face. Looking up, she saw a pair of brandy-dark eyes looking back at her, their corners crinkled up in a small smile. One eye held hers and was filled with passion and something she did not dare name. The other was unfocused, looking beyond her, unable to see all that was directly in front of him.

  "Dance with me, Caro," he whispered as he grasped her hand and began to lead her onto the floor. It was then that she noticed his cane leaning against the wall like a forgotten limb. "And do not say no, for I will not accept that answer."

  As if she could, given how quickly he swept her onto the floor and into his arms. That did not mean she did not protest, however. For a waltz of all things. Oh, this would not do at all. What if some young lady who fancied Marcus for herself saw them dancing? All of her hard work would be for naught.

  Though in the back of her mind, a little voice whispered that there were no young ladies watching, for they did not fancy Marcus for a husband. At least not the way Caroline did.

  Still, she knew she had to put up some sort of protest or he would assume that he could get away with this sort of behavior all the time.

  "Marcus," she hissed under her breath, a pleasant smile pasted on her face, "are you deliberately attempting to undermine my efforts to find you a wife?"

  "Yes." His smile was wider now, his handsome face graced with a devilish grin. Of all the parts of him that had borne injury over the years, his face never had, much to Caroline's relief.

  "Then stop it this instant," she demanded softly as he spun her into a graceful turn. She did note, however, that he leaned on her more than another man would, probably for support. He could dance, it seemed, but not without some help from his partner.

  "No." His reply was just as soft and every bit as determined. "Now be quiet for a moment, Caro, and simply enjoy the dance."

  She wanted to continue to argue with him, to demand that he let her go, but then she realized the scandal that would cause. If she were to simply walk away from him on the dance floor, that would likely cause a scandal neither of them would recover from. So instead she simply relaxed into his arms and let herself indulge in a moment of wishful thinking.

  Caroline felt Marcus' arm tighten around her as they danced, felt the way he leaned his body into hers - both for stability and something more. Something sensual and full of desire. She saw the way he gazed at her face, even his damaged eye taking in parts of her she did not want him to see.

  He must have liked what he saw however, for he smiled and for a moment, he was her Marcus again. He was the young man she had left behind seven years ago, her heart shattered into a thousand pieces. This man alone had the power to heal what was broken inside of her and for a moment, she imagined him doing precisely that.

  She imagined what it would be like to lie with him, to confess her darkest sins and find forgiveness in his embrace. She imagined sharing a life with him, bearing his children, raising them in the quiet comfort of Heatherton Abby, his sister Amy and her husband Gibson bringing their brood for long summertime visits.

  More than anything, though, she imagined him forgiving her for being Lady X, for writing the columns and saving herself and what was left of her father's unentailed estate from ruin by partaking in trade. In her mind, she heard him whisper that he understood and forgave, melting her frozen heart bit by painful bit.

  She must have been imagining so well that she forgot herself entirely, gazing up at Marcus as if he was truly her prince charming. As if there was nothing standing between them other than sheer stubbornness.

  "I want you, Caroline," she heard him whisper against her cheek, pulling her closer than was strictly proper. "All of you. Tonight. Please say yes. I shan't take no for an answer, you see."

  "Yes." She could no more deny him in that moment than she could remember her own name. Whatever he wanted, she would give, so happy was she to be drifting on this perfect cloud of bliss, her mind and heart both content for once.

  Around them, she could see the glitter of the stars, the way the shadows they cast flickered and danced along the walls as the night breeze teased the flames into twisting points of light. Together, she and Marcus moved as one. One body. One spirit. One mind.

  Just give in, her mind whispered. Just this once. Allow yourself to dream about what might have been.

  In truth, she was tired. She was tired of the double life that she led, always pretending to be someone else, this mystery that the ton had dubbed her while hiding the real truth of her life from all but her closest of friends. She was tired of being Lady X, of promoting and arranging the matches of other star-crossed lovers while she herself remained alone. She was tired of pretending not to care that she was an aging spinster who would be viewed as a mere curiosity in a few years, popular only because she was viewed as some sort of oddity to be gawked at rather than a lonely woman who had been denied the love of her life due to circumstances she could not control.

  Around them the music swelled and she felt herself being carried along, helpless to resist the pull of the music and the sway of Marcus' body against hers. She felt the evidence of his desire pressing into her, even through all of the many layers of fabric that separated them. She felt her own body begin to relax and for once, she ceased to remember to pay attention to her fellow peers. She didn't think to look and see what illicit couples were tittering in dark corners or what unmarried young ladies were arranging illicit assignations with rakes of the highest order.

  For once, she was merely Caroline and she was dancing with the man she loved.

  "Yes, Marc," she whispered, knowing that h
er breath caressed his neck just as his had done to her when he shivered against her. This big, strong, angry man brought low by a simple puff of breath. Oh, how the very idea thrilled her.

  She could not gage the response in Marcus's dark eyes just then, but given the way he tightened his grip on her and the way his breathing slowed for a mere fraction of a moment before speeding up again, she was fairly certain he was pleased.

  Then she wondered briefly just what she had agreed to. In the next moment, she decided that she did not care.

  Chapter Ten

  "Are you certain about this, my love? I will not force you if you have changed your mind. I am not a beast, despite what many among our set believe."

  This was the fifth time that Marcus had asked her that same question since they had entered Cheltenham House by way of the back entrance so as not to disturb the servants. It irked her just as much now as it had the first time he has asked.

  It also made her feel a bit like a doxy, though she did understand the need for secrecy. If she were to be discovered sneaking abovestairs with Marcus, there would be no going back - for either of them. She would be well and truly ruined and a marriage between them would be necessary if either of them hoped to hold their heads up in society again. Or even dream of being welcomed in a drawing room, let alone Almack's.

  Perhaps they should have returned to her town home, but then someone would have certainly seen Marcus' carriage with the Cheltenham family crest on the side and that would not have done either. Since his parents had departed for the country that morning, that left Cheltenham House empty save for the servants. Who, in all likelihood, gossiped. Most likely a lot.

  She tried not to think about that, however, unwilling to allow her fears to ruin this evening. This was her one chance to be with the man she loved. She would not turn back. Like Lord Nelson at Trafalgar, she would stay the course. If she meant to have Marcus, even for one night - which she did - there could be no room for doubt.