Seducing The Vengeful Marquess (Steamy Historical Regency)

by Lucinda Nelson

He’d been running from his pain.

  “You’re soaked through,” he said, when a natural silence fell.

  Loraine blinked down at herself, then looked at his suit. “So are you,” she said, with a small smile.

  They sat down on a bench together and looked out over the cemetery, sitting quietly for a long time. “When your parents passed…” he said, in a hesitant voice. “How old were you?”

  “Sixteen,” she answered.

  “Why America?” He wondered. “Were you very close to your aunt before their deaths?”

  Loraine shook her head. “I’d met her once, when I was very young, but I didn’t remember her.”

  He frowned. “Then why her?”

  Loraine shrugged. “There was no one else.” She could see that he was sad for her, and offered him a grateful smile. “Don’t be sad for me,” she added, quietly. “My aunt is eccentric, but she has always been very kind to me. We needed each other.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She was very lonely before I came to stay with her. Very lonely indeed.”

  “She does not like me very much,” Philip said, with a small, but amused smile. He was starting to look a little more like himself, which pleased her.

  “She doesn’t like anyone very much,” she replied, with a smile of her own. “Men least of all.”

  “And why is that?”

  “She was hurt once,” Loraine replied, losing her smile. “Very badly hurt.”

  “That explains a great deal about you.”

  Loraine quirked her brow at him. “Excuse me?”

  “It isn’t an accusation,” he assured her, as he put his hand on top of hers on the bench, seemingly thoughtlessly. They both looked down at where he’d touched her, and she felt her heart stutter a little. “I just mean that you hold your own against gentlemen.”

  “You mean that I’m wary,” she corrected. She twined their fingers together against the bench. “Perhaps I am,” she added, with a nod. “But perhaps I need to be.”

  “Is that why you push me away? Because of what happened to your aunt?”

  Loraine expelled a slow breath. “That’s a bold question.”

  “Will it find an honest answer?”

  Loraine looked into his eyes for a long time, feeling the world spin around them. It didn’t matter that they were in a cemetery, with the dead for company.

  She felt as if they were in their own universe. As if they were the only creatures in existence.

  “I am wary of you because you are not like most men,” Loraine confessed, as she looked down at their hands again. She turned her hand over so that their palms were pressed together. “You’re different.”

  Philip lifted their hands higher, so that they were between them. He squeezed and kissed her knuckles. “That’s the trouble,” he murmured against her skin. “When I’m with you… I am different.”

  Chapter 25

  Lord Philip Everton, Marquess of Blackhill

  It had been so long since he’d been at his mother’s grave. He hadn’t visited since the funeral, because he’d been travelling. But even if he hadn’t been… would he have come? He didn’t know if he would have had the courage.

  He didn’t know if he had the courage now.

  When Loraine had found him there, it had been pouring out of him. All the guilt, the self-loathing, the grief he’d refused to fully acknowledge until that moment.

  Some frightened, vulnerable part of himself had expected scorn from her.

  But when she’d taken his face in her hands, he’d felt like she was bandaging old sores. It hurt, but he felt safe in the knowledge that he was going to get better.

  For the first time, he believed he would. She made him believe it, without needing to say a single word.

  They’d walked for a while, their argument behind them, and he felt like a different man. There was some tenderness in his behavior that hadn’t been a part of him for the longest time. And he didn’t feel so afraid of what he felt for her.

  Even after visiting Edgar’s grave, it was too easy to forget that he wasn’t meant to love her.

  You’re different.

  He never wanted to stop hearing that. He stored the memory of it away in his head, so that he could replay it in his dreams.

  It was a long time before they went their separate ways. He was soaked through to the bone, and so was she, but neither of them cared. He felt like the rain had washed him clean of all the dirt and grime he’d accumulated since his mother’s death.

  It was early evening when he got home. His brother took one look at him and appeared ready to faint. “You’ll catch your death!” He said.

  Philip smiled at him fondly, which made George frown at him like he’d done something extremely strange. “Perhaps you already have,” he remarked. “You look unwell.”

  Philip frowned, hanging up his drenched coat. “Because I’m smiling?”

  “Are you drunk?”

  Philip thought for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Then why are you smiling?”

  “I often smile,” Philip said, rolling his eyes.

  “Not like that,” George mumbled, almost warily.

  That made Philip smile more. He knew what his brother meant. Philip’s smiles were usually mischievous or amused. They weren’t usually so… soft.

  “Do you want to play some cards?” Philip wondered.

  His brother blinked at him, looking as if he was thinking of confining Philip to an asylum. “I don’t gamble,” George reminded him.

  “I was thinking we could play without involving money.”

  George’s face went blank with confusion. Philip knew what he was thinking. They hadn’t played a game for years. When it seemed to sink in that Philip actually wanted to spend time with him, George looked away.

  “You alright?” Philip asked.

  “Yes,” George said. “I’d love to play.”

  Philip realized, as George led the way into the drawing room, how much he’d neglected his younger brother since their mother’s death. It made his chest hurt to know that his brother, who’d never begrudged him anything and had always depended on him so much as a child, had been all alone.

  Philip wanted to say sorry. He opened his mouth to do so when they took their seats but stopped when he saw George smiling.

  He was happy, and Philip didn’t want to disturb that by bringing anymore sadness to the table. He smiled too and passed George the deck of cards. “You deal,” he said.

  The next morning, Philip went to the Beauchamp estate. Loraine had invited him when they’d left the cemetery to go their separate ways.

  He felt strangely nervous when he approached.

  The last several times he’d been to the estate, Loraine hadn’t been there. And all he’d been faced with was mortification and stung pride.

  He didn’t think she’d stand him up again, but he’d gotten used to feeling anxious when he went to the estate. It was a tough habit to break out of.

  When he arrived, he knocked on the door. The moment he put his knuckles against the wood, it swung open. Surprised, he took a step back, just as Loraine stepped out onto the porch. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, with a secretive smile.

  “Hello,” she murmured to him.

  “Good morning,” he answered, feeling his smile grow wider. He put his arm out for her, with every intention of leading her into the grounds. But when they stepped into the courtyard, Loraine paused and looked back at the house.

  He followed her eyes, to see her aunt standing in one of the windows of the upper floor. She was looking out at them from behind a curtain. When she spotted them looking, she ducked out of sight.

  Loraine kept staring, until her aunt reappeared again.

  Philip lifted his hand and gave a small wave. Her aunt balked at this and yanked the curtains closed violently. This made Loraine laugh. She grabbed his waving hand and pulled it down. “Don’t tease her,” she said, st
ill smiling.

  She shook her head and took his arm. “I’m not in the mood for being spied on today,” she said. “And I have somewhere I’d like to take you.”

  “Where?” He wondered.

  “It’s a surprise,” she insisted. “But it’s a bit of a ride.”

  That suited him just fine. They could have another race.

  Loraine led him to the stables, where they saddled their horses. Once mounted, they set off at a gentle ride out of the grounds. He knew the easy pace wouldn’t last long, so he made the most of the opportunity to talk to her without having to yell over the clomp of hooves.

  “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said.

  “And what might that be?”

  “It’s about Lord Garth.”

  Loraine looked perplexed. “Tristan?”

  Philip hated that she called him by his Christian name. He gritted his teeth and nodded sharply. “Supposedly, you’re courting.”

  Loraine frowned for a moment, and then laughed. “No, that’s not what it seems.”

  “It’s not?”

  She shook her head. “Tristan is a friend,” she said.

  “Do you expect me to believe that?” He pressed, dubiously. “When last I spoke to him, he said he was courting you.”

  Loraine smiled to herself, clearly trying to contain her laughter. “Have you sought him out?”

  Philip pursed his lips and looked ahead of them at the path. “I have. I needed answers.”

  “So you stalked the poor fellow? However did you find him?”

  “Theodore told me he frequents a restaurant in town on Friday mornings.”

  Loraine threw her head back relinquishing her effort to keep her laughter in. “Oh, my poor darling. You must have frightened him terribly.”

  “You call him darling?” Philip felt his jealousy rising like bile.

  Loraine rolled her eyes. “As I told you, it’s not what it seems. We’ve been friends for a number of years.”

  “Well he is clearly interested in you.”

  “My, you sound terribly jealous.”

  Philip declined to address that point. “Do you have some explanation?”

  Shaking her head and still smiling, Loraine said, “His parents are concerned that he doesn’t put any effort into finding a wife. I agreed to dine with his family, so that they’d stop pestering him.”

  Philip frowned. “Why does he not put any effort into finding a wife?”

  Loraine gave him a long, silent look.

  “Oh,” Philip said. Then he expelled a huge breath and smiled. “That is a relief. I think I owe the chap an apology.”

  “I think you do too.”

  They rode a little longer, before Philip spoke again.

  “I wondered if you might stand me up again,” he admitted.

  She smiled over at him, almost bashfully. “I am sorry about that,” she assured him and, for once, he didn’t doubt her sincerity.

  “Why did you go to Paris? Really?”

  Loraine expelled a slow breath. He could see that she was considering how much to tell him. After a long time, she said, “I needed time away from you.”

  She spoke slowly. Carefully.

  He waited for her to go on.

  “The rumors I’ve heard of you are not especially gratifying,” she said, with an apologetic expression. “I did not want you to think that you had me.”

  “That I had you?” He echoed, with a frown.

  “Hook, line and sinker,” she added, and he saw that her cheeks were starting to go pink. He also saw how much such an admission unsettled her. She held her lips tightly, as if she was restraining the part of herself that wanted to hide everything sincere behind a wall.

  “We were getting rather close,” she admitted. “I wanted to prove to you that I won’t be trifled with, as your other women are.”

  “To prove to me, or to prove to yourself?”

  Loraine looked at him suddenly, as though this assumption shocked her. Then she blinked, like she was becoming aware of something she didn’t like. “Perhaps to both of us,” she confessed.

  “There are no other women, Loraine.”

  Loraine arched a brow at him, as if to say, I won’t be fooled.

  “You and Lady Maris seemed rather close at that tea party.”

  Abigail? Philip didn’t think he’d spoken a single word to Abigail at the tea party. But of course, Loraine was much too clever to believe that there hadn’t been something between them. He shifted uncomfortably in his saddle.

  “That was a long time ago.”

  “But she invited you to the tea party. To a ladies’ tea party.” There was such challenge in her expression. He thought she could stop an army in its tracks. “Because you asked her to, did you not?”

  “Alright,” he conceded. “I did. But only because I wanted to see you again.”

  “I am sure that is not what you told Miss Maris.”

  It was not. Like the cad he’d no doubt been accused of being, he’d led Abigail to believe that there might be something more between them again.

  “You flirted with her to get your way,” she continued.

  Philip wasn’t going to deny it. So he looked her in the eye and nodded. “I did. But will you tell me that you’ve not done the same with gentlemen in the past?”

  Loraine pursed her lips but didn’t answer.

  He knew she couldn’t deny it.

  Having placated that particular subject, he returned to the matter at hand. “These rumors,” he said. “I imagine they’re all true.”

  “Then you admit it?” She said, abruptly.

  He nodded. “I do.”

  “And what is your excuse?”

  “I do not have an excuse,” he confessed. “I could say it was my mother’s death, which certainly worsened the behaviors. But the truth is that it started before then.”

  “Why?” She pressed, but she didn’t sound angry. Only curious.

  He considered this for a moment. “I suppose because my father could be rather overbearing. He demanded absolute perfection. So when I went to university, rebellion was a temptation I couldn’t resist.”

  “If only women were at such liberty,” she muttered.

  Philip started to smile at her, with a raised brow. “You sound as if you’re envious.”

  “I am,” she admitted. “Women aren’t afforded the opportunity to be rebellious. We can’t gallivant as men do. Let us take you as an example.”

  “Go on,” he agreed, intrigued.

  “You drank and gambled. And, no doubt, had intimate relations with a number of women.”

  Philip tried not to let his shock show. But he’d never heard a woman be so upfront before. And he thought that was her intention. To shock him.

  Perhaps this was her opportunity to be rebellious, however small.

  “Perhaps not so intimate,” he said, with a roguish smile.

  Loraine rolled her eyes. “You do all this, but you are still a gentleman of good society. You are not shunned by polite company. You maintain your wealth and your rank. Men even seem to admire you and you have no trouble finding yourself a woman to entertain you, despite the rumors being extremely well-known.”

  It was true.

  She took a breath and shook her head. “Can you imagine the same being said for a woman in the same position?”

  “No,” he admitted, after a moment of silence.

  “Precisely,” she said, stiffly.

  “That angers you,” he observed.

  “Why shouldn’t it?”

  “I wonder,” he mused. “Do you envision a world where men are not able to do those things, or one where women are?”

  It was clear by her sudden look of astonishment that this was a question she hadn’t considered before. “Well- I-” she stuttered.

  He didn’t think he’d ever heard her speak with anything but utter clarity before. “Ahh, I see,” he said.

  She scowled at him, and he grinned.<
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  “If it is any consolation, I too wish women could be more free with themselves.”

  “Well of course you do,” she scoffed. “It would benefit you enormously.”