The Scandalous Lord Lanchester

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The Scandalous Lord Lanchester Page 6

by Michelle Styles


  ‘Yes, I know Lord Lanchester quite well.’

  ‘Oh, are they coming, too?’ Sylvia looked surprised. ‘Had we known, we might all have travelled together.’

  ‘They are not due until tomorrow,’ Count Paolo replied, an odd expression in his eyes. ‘You have only recently met Lieutenant Grainger, I believe? What do you think of him?’

  ‘As for myself, I cannot claim an intimate acquaintance,’ Sylvia said. ‘He seems a pleasant young man. Mariah said he had been of service to her, did you not, my love?’

  ‘He kindly saved me from coming upon an unexpected rock fall, but I hardly know him.’

  ‘You are a particular friend of Lord Lanchester, perhaps?’

  ‘Yes. We were neighbours when I lived at Avonlea.’ She wrinkled her brow, sensing something odd in him, an intensity as he waited for her answer. ‘How did you come to meet Lord Lanchester?’

  ‘Oh, he had some business in Milan,’ the count replied vaguely. ‘He is looking to buy fine wines, amongst other things, to import into England for his own use, I understand. I invited him to the ball on impulse. He will be able to try our vintage and may wish to visit the vineyard to place an order before moving on.’

  Mariah was intrigued. Was that the excuse Andrew had given the count for being in the Lombard region? It might be the truth, of course, but she suspected that the story was merely to cover his true purpose—whatever that might be.

  ‘I have heard your wines are exceptional, Count.’

  ‘You sampled one of our wines at luncheon. Tonight you will have the chance to sample more, but of course the best way is to visit the vineyards. I should be happy to escort you if you cared for the idea—perhaps tomorrow morning?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Sylvia replied before Mariah could form an answer. ‘It would be too strenuous on the morning of a ball, Count Paolo. However, we should be delighted to visit another day before we return to your beautiful villa.’

  Mariah was certain that he had been inviting her alone, but if Sylvia’s intervention had annoyed him he hid it behind a polite smile, asking her to forgive him for being foolish enough to suggest it.

  She was intrigued and yet nervous. Sylvia had foiled one attempt by the count to get Mariah alone, but she did not imagine he would stop there.

  * * *

  Indeed, the count did not stop trying to get Mariah alone. After dinner, when the gentlemen had rejoined the ladies, having spent the shortest time over their port, Count Paolo found Mariah standing by the long windows facing the garden, gazing out at the night sky.

  ‘We have some stars tonight,’ he said as he came up to her. ‘I think there is nothing quite as romantic as the stars—do you not agree, Mariah?’

  The way he spoke her name sent tingles down Mariah’s spine. He was wearing a sharp fragrance that reminded her of citrus and something rather subtler that she could not name.

  ‘Moonlight is also romantic,’ she agreed. ‘But we see the moon more often than the stars—at least that is so in England, I think.’

  ‘You have too much cloud in England,’ the count said. He reached out, tracing one finger down her bare arm. ‘Surely you do not thrive in that grey country?’

  ‘England is my home, sir. I do enjoy the sunshine of Italy—and, like you, I love Paris—but I was born in England.’

  ‘Yet you could live happily in Italy. I have heard that you stayed on for a time after your late husband died?’

  ‘People were so kind to me and I had no one particular at home.’

  ‘Then why return there? I am sure you could find a new life here.’

  Mariah replied honestly, ‘Perhaps. Though I have many friends there and might find the life here a little lonely.’

  ‘I am certain you would not be lonely. I have a wide circle of friends. If you made your life with me, you would not lack for company.’

  ‘Forgive me? You cannot think that I…’ Her cheeks felt hot because of the burning looks he was directing at her. ‘I may be a widow, but I am not lost to propriety.’

  Count Paolo laughed. ‘You cannot have misunderstood me. I believe I have made myself clear from the beginning. I wanted you the first moment I saw you. You take my breath away, Mariah—I meant no disrespect. What is mine is mine. I never share. I would put my ring on your finger. We would be married, of course.’

  ‘Married? We hardly know one another!’ She was shocked, her spine tingling as she stared into his hot eyes. ‘I would need time, sir. To give up my home and friends…to live here with you. I should need to care for you deeply.’

  ‘You feel something. I sensed it at the start. Live a little dangerously, Mariah. I shall show you how to take the most from life. You have scarcely tasted its pleasures…’

  The sensual purr in his voice made her heart race. He was persuasive, his eyes hypnotic, like a cat. She felt almost as if she were in the grip of a tidal wave that was lifting her, sweeping her away.

  ‘I would need to think carefully…’

  ‘You have told me yourself that you have no family.’ He smiled at her. ‘I have perhaps been in too much of a hurry—yes? I thought there was an attraction when we first met and I sensed something…a need for physical comfort. Perhaps I am wrong?’

  Mariah caught her breath. How could he know so much about her? Had he seen the vulnerability she tried to hide? His voice was soft, caressing, and the look in his eyes was so very persuasive. It was hard to resist when she was so lonely.

  There, she had admitted it to herself. The word was one she disliked. How could she be lonely when she had so many good friends? It was foolish to dwell on the thought and she would not give in to self-pity.

  ‘I believe we might be good friends, sir.’

  ‘Surely we could never be just friends? You feel it, but you fear it—admit the truth, Mariah.’

  She glanced away from the count’s eyes, because she was afraid that he would see how uncertain she was. How had he seen that she needed love? She prided herself on keeping a shield in place, but it seemed that he had instantly seen beneath it.

  Mariah lifted her head proudly. ‘It is much too soon to think of marriage, sir.’

  ‘Yes, I am in too much hurry. Forgive me. I am impulsive—a man who feels deeply, passionately. As soon as I saw you I knew I wanted you—that you would be mine one day. In time you will accept it and realise that we were meant to love as only we can.’

  ‘I suppose if one were in love it might be worth the loss of country and home,’ Mariah replied, trying for cool indifference, though her pulses raced. Something in his manner dominated her. She was flattered, a little excited, but frightened, too. Instinct told her that this was the last man in the world she ought to trust, but she did not wish to offend him since she was his guest. ‘I hardly know you, sir. Since we have only just met, you cannot know that we should suit—or that I would be the woman you require as a wife.’

  ‘I knew of you long before we met today,’ he replied. ‘Besides, I had seen you before. You were with your husband in Paris, buying a necklace. I saw how he doted on you and the way you behaved to him, with love and kindness—even though he could not have given you the physical love you needed. The age gap was too wide. Had he not died, you would have wasted your youth as his nurse.’

  Mariah went cold at this revelation. ‘If you know so much about me, you must know that my husband left me a great deal of money. What can you offer me that I do not already have?’

  ‘You do not need me to tell you that,’ the count replied. ‘When you lie in my arms you will no longer feel lonely. I can make you happy, Mariah—and you are not happy. Do you deny it?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I shall not deny what you have seen for yourself. I should like to be married to a man I cared for.’

  ‘I shall make you love me, as I love you.’ Count Paolo’s eyes narrowed. ‘You felt something when we met, as I did. Why deny your nature?’

  His persistence was beginning to make her feel anxious. She said a little sharply,
‘Allow me to know my own feelings best, if you please, sir.’

  ‘But I do know you, Mariah. I know you much better than you could guess.’

  ‘Then you have the advantage of me, Count. While you knew of me, I knew nothing of you. Before I could even consider such a marriage I would need to know you much better.’

  Why had she not refused immediately? Mariah saw the pleased expression on the count’s face and wished she had dismissed the suggestion out of hand. She had thought to avoid unpleasantness, but it was a mistake. He might have accepted her dismissal with good grace had she told him at once that her heart was engaged elsewhere, but if he discovered it now he would undoubtedly be angry.

  ‘I simply wished you to know I was interested. I am an impatient man. I speak out once I know my own mind—and I have known what I wanted since I learned that you had become a widow.’

  ‘How did you learn so much of me?’

  ‘We have mutual friends,’ he replied dismissively. ‘I know that you suffered an abduction recently. The man is dead. He is fortunate that he died easily. Had it been I who dealt with the rogue, he would have wished he had never been born.’ His eyes glittered with malice.

  Mariah felt coldness at her nape. This was the man he kept hidden beneath the charming exterior. The count’s proposal was outrageous, but, because she was lonely, she might perhaps have fallen into his clutches had she not given her foolish heart to another man.

  No matter how much he charmed and flattered her, she loved Andrew. She must cling to the hope that he would speak and not let herself be swept away by the passion of a man she had only just met.

  ‘If you know so much of me, you must know that I always insist on having my own way,’ she said, a teasing smile on her lips. ‘I fear it would be marriage on my terms, Count Paolo.’

  Now he would see that her mind was set and draw back. If he did not the situation might become impossible, for she could hardly leave without upsetting her friends.

  He inclined his head, his gaze intense. ‘That might be arranged,’ he said. ‘If you gave me your promise, I would do my best to please your vanity.’

  ‘My vanity?’

  ‘Are not all women vain, wishing always to be pampered and adored?’

  ‘You have an odd opinion of my kind, sir.’

  ‘I speak the truth. Does it prick you, Mariah? I shall retract it if you are angry with me. Are you angry?’

  ‘No, why should I be? I speak plainly. You must speak as you wish to me, sir.’

  ‘Marry me. Give me time to show you how we live—how you might live here—and then make me the happiest man alive.’

  ‘I must have time.’

  ‘But you are not refusing me. I warn you, I do not like to lose.’

  Mariah hesitated, then gave a little shrug. She had done all she could to convince him without making a scene and leaving his house.

  A trickle of ice ran down her spine. She must find a way to answer without arousing his anger if she could.

  ‘You may not like me when you know me better.’

  ‘I always know what I want—and I always get it one way or another.’

  Mariah began to be very uneasy. The look in his eyes was obsessive. It shocked her and she wished she had never let him believe for one moment that she would marry him in time.

  ‘We speak of something that cannot be,’ she replied and laughed softly. ‘I find your proposition fascinating, Count—but I like my life too well and I should not like to lose my friends.’ She reached out and touched his arm. ‘You must look elsewhere for a mother for your sons, flattered as I am by—’ She gasped as he seized her wrist, holding it in an iron grip. ‘Please, you are hurting me…’

  ‘Do not play fast and loose with me, Mariah,’ he said smoothly. ‘You like your own way. I must tell you that is my nature also. When I want something I make certain it becomes mine in time. From the moment I saw you I have planned this meeting. You returned to England before I knew you were going, but I brought you back here to me. I shall make you fall in love with me and you will be all that I want you to be.’

  Mariah pulled sharply away. She had tried politeness, but it had not worked. He seemed incapable of accepting her answer.

  ‘I shall not listen to any more of this nonsense, sir. You forget yourself. I have friends who will protect me if you try to force your attentions on me.’

  ‘If you mean Lord Lanchester, you should think again. He is a thief and more—and about to be exposed for his crimes.’ The count smiled as she gasped. ‘Yes, it is most scandalous, is it not? Your friend is on the path to ruin and disgrace. You should not expect him to help you. He cannot help himself.’

  ‘You are lying,’ she exclaimed. ‘It cannot be true. Andrew would never steal. Why should he? He is a wealthy man.’

  ‘I know a man who witnessed the theft,’ the count replied. ‘Would you accept his written testimony?’

  Mariah shook her head. ‘Letters can be falsified. I know Lord Lanchester to be an honourable man.’

  ‘Then I shall bring the witness here to you.’

  ‘Please excuse me,’ she said and moved away from him. ‘Sylvia is signalling to me. I think she is ready to retire.’

  ‘Then I shall not keep you. You must be tired after your journey here today.’ He smiled at her. ‘We shall not quarrel over this affair. The scandal will break soon and then you will know I was not lying.’ His smile faded. ‘I had not realised Lanchester meant so much to you. Had I known, I would have broken the news gently.’

  ‘If it were true, there is no gentle way to tell me.’

  ‘Believe me, Mariah, it is not a lie. I was as shocked as you are when I was told what happened.’ His gaze narrowed. ‘Ask Lanchester for the truth when he comes. He will not be able to lie to you—and if he does you will know.’

  ‘Yes, I should,’ she agreed. ‘Very well, I shall ask him when he arrives.’

  ‘Good. Forgive me if I have hurt you by this revelation—but it is best you know the truth. There is no one who truly cares for you, Mariah—no one you can rely on. Your former guardian is married and your friend will soon be disgraced.’ His voice purred like a cat. ‘You will be so much safer with me, Mariah. I shall protect and love you. You will have all you ever desired and more.’

  Mariah was tingling all over. Her instincts were to run away from the count’s house this very minute, but something told her that might be the worst thing she could do. If Count Paolo had done so much to find out about her and her family and friends, he would not be so easily denied. He might capture her and hold her prisoner until she did as he required. Her experience of such things was too vivid for her to risk it being repeated. She would be safer to stay close to her friends. She needed to talk to Andrew and ask his advice. Surely the count had lied. Andrew could not be a thief—but something was bothering him.

  Walking to join Sylvia, Mariah knew that she must continue as if nothing untoward had happened. Could Sylvia and her husband have any idea of the count’s true nature? Mariah was certain they knew nothing of his obsession for her, though they must have unwittingly passed on information about her.

  The count was indeed obsessed with her to an unnatural degree. No sensible man would make such outrageous plans for a woman he’d never truly met. As far as she knew, Mariah had never spoken to him until they arrived at his house in Milan. If she had passed the time of day at some time in the past, it could have been no more than that or she would have recalled his face.

  It was two years since Winston died. Why had the count not approached her before, courted her in the normal way? She was not indifferent to him. Had he waited, courted her slowly, sweeping her off her feet, she would no doubt have fallen for him and married him. She might have regretted it soon after, when she began to see the true man, but then it would have been too late.

  She had a feeling that the count liked to manipulate those about him. It was as if he had spun a web around them, drawing in first Sylvia and her husband, b
ecause they could give him so much information about Mariah. Then he must have had her followed in England. He knew about Justin’s marriage—and he had discovered a mystery concerning Andrew.

  The tale was an invention of the count’s to make her feel isolated so that she would wed him. Andrew would tell her it was a lie as soon as she asked. She could hardly wait to speak to him.

  * * *

  Mariah heard the commotion downstairs as she was preparing to leave her room the next morning. Pausing at the top of the stairs, she realised that some guests had arrived. Almost at once she saw Andrew and her heart quickened, but then she realised that he was being supported by Lieutenant Grainger and bleeding over the marble floor.

  The count’s servants had arrived and two burly footmen helped support Andrew into the nearest salon, carefully placing him on one of the sofas.

  ‘What happened?’ Mariah asked as she followed them. ‘Are you badly hurt, Andrew?’

  ‘He sustained a wound to his head and another to his hand. It is his hand that is bleeding,’ Lieutenant Grainger told her. ‘He was driving his own curricle and someone fired on him. His groom did as much as he could to control the horses, but unfortunately there was an accident and the curricle overturned. We happened along shortly after and we took him into our carriage.’

  Mariah looked at Andrew anxiously. ‘How bad is it?’

  ‘You may speak to me, Mariah.’ Andrew’s voice was faint but irritated. ‘I am not dead yet. It is but a flesh wound.’

  ‘You are still bleeding, therefore it is more than a slight wound,’ Mariah replied and attempted to look at his head. Andrew motioned her away impatiently. ‘It needs to be bound.’

  ‘Then leave me to the physician. For God’s sake, woman. It hurts enough without you fussing round. If I could lie down upstairs…’

  ‘What is this?’ Count Paolo entered the salon before Mariah could say more. ‘Did I hear correctly—bandits attacked you on your journey here? Did you get a good look at the rogues? If you can furnish me with details, Lord Lanchester, I shall have the military make a sweep of the area. This kind of thing cannot be allowed to go unpunished. I shall not allow my guests to be treated with such disrespect.’

 

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