There was something in his tone she didn’t understand. “I-I hope I am his friend,” she said carefully. “I have his best interests at heart.”
“That is good to hear.”
Marietta met his gaze, fixed on her rather piercingly, and decided that now was the time to test Harold’s own loyalty to his cousin.
“As Lord Roseby’s friend I can’t help thinking that it was a cruel thing his father did to him, reading his mother’s letter aloud like that.”
“So he’s told you that?” Surprised, Harold glanced away, but whether because he was embarrassed by his uncle’s behavior, or because he didn’t want her to see the expression in his eyes, Marietta could not tell. She wished she knew him better; she wished she had Max’s faith in him.
“Max tells me many things.”
He pondered that for a moment. “The matter is private, but as Max has spoken of it…The duke is an intelligent man but sometimes, in times of great distress, his feelings take over. You must understand that he loved his wife and the knowledge of her betrayal almost destroyed him—in my opinion he will never recover from it. When the letter came into his hands he was crazed with pain and anger. The duchess was dead, he could not punish her for her infidelity, but Max was there. I imagine he read the letter aloud to hurt them both, as they had hurt him. Not very logical, but then families often aren’t logical in their reactions to each other.”
Remembering her own family, Marietta could only agree with him and let it pass. “What I don’t understand is how the letter came to light.”
Harold grimaced; clearly the memory was not a pleasant one. “You are very curious, Miss Greentree, but still it cannot hurt to speak of it, not when the whole of London knows. The letter was among the duchess’s personal papers. My wife had been sorting through them after her death and she came across it. She had placed it on the fire, thinking it of no importance, and then she happened to read some of the words.”
“So she retrieved it before it burnt too badly.”
Of course she did. She would see at once what such a letter would mean to her and her husband, Marietta thought cynically.
“It distressed her tremendously,” Harold went on sharply, reading her thoughts in her silence. “Susannah is very fond of her brother, and she couldn’t believe it was true. She thought hard about what she did, believe me, but she decided that it was the duke’s right to know the truth about his wife and son, no matter how unpalatable that might be. Lately, Susannah has even speculated that perhaps the duchess wanted her husband to know the truth—why else would she keep a letter so incriminating? Why not destroy it years ago?”
“Yes, I see that. The letter…who was it written to?”
“I don’t know. I don’t even know if it was a letter. It looked more like someone setting down their thoughts. A confession, if you like. That was why she wondered if it had been meant to be found.”
Marietta wanted to ask what the letter said, word for word, but she knew that would be going too far. He already thought her insufferably inquisitive, and she did not want him to warn Max against her—Max, who was already incensed with her meddling.
She needed Max, she told herself. He was going to help her achieve her ambitions, and in return she would help him sort out his muddled life. He would be grateful to her, in the end.
“You take a great interest in Max, don’t you, Miss Greentree?”
“I suppose I do—”
“It is generous of you to have befriended him,” Harold said, still watching her, and again it seemed as if he had read her mind. “He has been very alone lately, and no matter how we try to help him he refuses to allow it.”
“I am glad to do what I can,” Marietta replied cautiously.
“I’m sure you are.” He gave her a little smile, but now it seemed forced and when he spoke next she understood why. “Even though Max is no longer heir to the Dukedom of Barwon, he is my cousin and I am very fond of him. You understand that I would never allow him to be preyed upon by those who mean him ill. Even penniless, Max has rich and powerful relations, and because of that there are some who might believe he is still what is vulgarly called ‘a good catch.’”
The words could be read as an affirmation of his commitment to Max, but Marietta knew they were not. They were aimed at her—there had been many such barbs stuck into her since Gerard Jones ruined her, but they still hurt, they hurt a great deal.
“Then it is fortunate I do not mean him ill, and that I am not presently husband-hunting,” she said lightly, but her eyes lost their friendly glow. Harold might be Max’s friend, but he had just let it be known that he wasn’t hers.
“I’m glad to hear that, Miss Greentree,” he said affably, but now she wasn’t deceived. “I shall hold you to it, you know.”
Marietta’s smile was wry. “I’m sure you will.”
“Perhaps…perhaps it would be best if you did not call on him again when I or my wife aren’t present.”
“Surely that’s up to Max?”
His eyes, so like Max’s and yet so different, narrowed. “While Max is unwell I am looking out for him, Miss Greentree. In my opinion it is in his best interests not to see you again.”
She knew her face was red—she could feel the heat in her cheeks. “Very well, sir,” she said quietly. “I will respect your wishes. Good day.”
I should not resent what he said, Marietta told herself as she made her way home. Harold was only caring for Max—“looking out for him”—and he could not know Marietta was not an unscrupulous woman out for all she could get. Or maybe it was her curiosity that had caused Harold to warn her off. If he was responsible for Max’s accidents, then naturally he would not want her to ask questions, or to prompt Max into asking them.
But either way his words had hurt, and she knew she would find it difficult to shut them out of her mind.
Of course he would not stop her from seeing Max! Not in his home, perhaps, but elsewhere. Max was a grown man with a mind of his own, and as far as Marietta was concerned their arrangement was unchanged.
“You’re looking tired, Max.”
Harold frowned down at him, and Max laughed. “What are you now, cousin? My nursemaid? As you see, I am an invalid out of bed today, an improvement on being an invalid in bed, I think.”
“Yes, and I am wondering why you are out of bed when the doctor said you were to stay there for the present.”
Max gave him a look.
“I’m not impressed,” Harold said. “You don’t intimidate me, Max, I know you too well.”
“Unfortunately. I can see you’re dying to say something to me, why don’t you say it?”
“I saw Miss Greentree leaving.” Harold fiddled with the chain of his pocketwatch, suddenly uncomfortable.
“Yes, she was visiting me,” Max replied smoothly, but Harold noticed the faint flush in his cousin’s lean cheeks.
There, he was right to warn her off! he told himself. It was clear that the woman was weaving her web around his cousin, drawing him in while he was in a vulnerable state. Harold had made some more inquiries into the Greentree family and the daughters of Aphrodite, and although they were respectable enough on the outside, beneath the surface there were dark rumors of unsavory happenings. Max would be much better off without those kinds of complications when he had so many troubles of his own. But if Max wanted to do something, then Harold admitted that he would have the devil of a job stopping him.
“I hope you’re not thinking of behaving foolishly, Max.”
Max frowned. “And why would I be? I am not hanging out for a wife, if that’s what worries you, cousin. I have far too many problems to want to bring a helpless woman into my life.”
Helpless? “I…good. Because Marietta Greentree would not do as your wife, even in your present…eh, circumstances.”
“You are a snob, cousin.”
“Maybe, but I know what society will tolerate and what it will not, and Marietta Greentree has too many scandals attache
d to her. Even the Vallands could not lift her from the mire, Max; she would sink us.”
Max gave a bitter laugh. “So what do you suggest? A temporary affair, perhaps?”
Harold pretended to think about it. “I don’t see the harm in that, if it’s what you want. But don’t grow too fond of her, Max. She’s not for you.”
Max closed his eyes, but whether because he was tired or he just didn’t want to discuss the matter any further, Harold didn’t know. Still, he felt as if he had said his piece and he was content with that. No need to tell Max that he had barred Marietta Greentree from the house, he thought. His cousin might wonder where she was for a time, but he would soon forget her. Better for the family if he did. Temporary affair indeed!
“Harold, do you think I am accident prone?”
Harold blinked, startled by the change in subject. “Accident prone?”
“Yes, do you think I have had an excessive number of accidents?”
“Well, I’ve had plenty of my own, if you remember, especially when we were boys. We were always getting into scrapes.” Harold laughed, but knew it sounded less than genuine. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”
Max opened his mouth to answer, and then shook his head decisively. “It doesn’t matter. I was rambling. How is Susannah?”
Harold smiled and proceeded to tell him, but he had the sense that Max wasn’t really listening. And that worried him. Marietta Greentree, the interfering minx, had placed these doubts in Max’s mind.
And Harold told himself that would never do.
Chapter 10
The following morning the streets of London were busy, as always, but Marietta, traveling them in Oliver’s carriage, hardly noticed. Already she had grown used to the different pace of life here, and although sometimes she caught herself dreaming of the vast stretches of open moorland around Greentree Manor, she did not feel particularly homesick. She missed Mama and Francesca more than she did Yorkshire.
Marietta smiled, remembering the sight of Lil, as she was awaiting the carriage in the entrance hall. The maid had tripped down the stairs wearing a new poplin dress with a single flounce about the hem, and sleeves puffed at the elbows. Lil, with puffed sleeves! And furthermore, her fair hair was dressed in an almost frivolous style, with bunches of beribboned curls above each of her little pink ears.
Aware of her scrutiny, Lil blushed and put her hands up to fiddle with the curls, or try and hide them.
“Now remind me,” Marietta said innocently, slipping an arm about Lil’s waist. “It is balloon ascent day at Vauxhall Gardens?”
Lil clicked her tongue, blushing furiously. “You are awful, Miss Marietta. It’s nothing of the sort, just that I-I was on my way out. For a walk. That’s all.”
Marietta nodded solemnly. “Of course. I can see you’re not dressed up in your best at all, and that you haven’t taken special care with your hair.”
Lil giggled nervously, casting her a sideways glance. “You’re a tease, Miss Marietta.”
“I’m sorry for it.” Marietta gave her a quick hug. “Don’t listen to my nonsense. You have a good time, Lil, and enjoy yourself. You know you deserve it, and if you don’t, then you should.”
Lil smiled. “I think I do deserve it,” she agreed. “I feel quite lightheaded,” she added. “Do you think that’s a good thing or a bad thing, miss?”
“I think it’s a good thing, Lil. Just hang on tight.”
Aphrodite’s Club seemed almost like home, and when Dobson let her inside, his smile was so welcoming that it warmed her heart.
“Miss Marietta!”
“Good morning, Dobson. Is Aphrodite available?”
“For you, I’m certain of it.”
“Marietta?” Aphrodite stood in the sitting room doorway, her eyebrows raised. “Come in here and tell me what it is you wish to see me about today.”
It sounded very formal, but then Aphrodite appeared formal. In her black satin dress with black lace overskirt and flounces, her black gloves, and her opulent jewelry, the courtesan was a rather intimidating figure. No doubt she had been up all night and must now be thinking of her bed, but she did not give that impression. Aphrodite had long ago learned the art of hiding her true feelings behind a cool, polite mask.
Perhaps it had been a necessity, to enable her to survive in her chosen profession. If so, Marietta wondered whether she would ever be able to successfully hide her own feelings. She knew that it would be difficult. She was impulsive, too impulsive some would say, and to restrain her vivacious nature would take patience and practice.
“If you have come to ask me a question then you should ask it,” her mother interrupted her thoughts. “Surely you are not squeamish, mon petit puce? Or shy? None of my daughters are shy.”
Marietta smiled. “No, we are not shy. We are all very decided and forthright. I wonder, is that a good thing? I don’t know, it seems to get us into all sorts of trouble. And yet I can’t imagine living any other way.”
Aphrodite seemed pleased with her answer, but she wasn’t distracted for long. “Now, then, tell me what it is that is troubling you, Marietta. Not Vivianna and her son, I hope?”
“No, they are both very well,” Marietta assured her, putting Aphrodite’s fears to rest.
“Then what is the matter? Do not make me guess, mon petit puce. I am too old for guessing games.”
“Max is the matter.”
“Ah, your Lord Roseby. Is he not cooperating?”
“Well, he is, but…It is not easy, Madame.”
“Of course not. What would be the point of it, if it was easy?” the courtesan replied sternly. “Have you completed the task I set you?”
Marietta smiled broadly. “I have. He kissed me. He gave me a kissing lesson, just as you said.”
Aphrodite’s dark eyes warmed. “Then I congratulate you, Marietta. You are very talented.”
Marietta thought, guiltily, that she was probably not that talented. In fact, not talented at all. Max had done all the work, and she had completely forgotten about her allotted task. It had been sheer good luck that it was accomplished, but she did not intend to tell her mother that.
“Thank you. Madame, there is a problem. Harold Valland does not want me to see Max; he has barred me from visiting him at Bedford Square.”
Aphrodite looked furious. She muttered something in French that Marietta had never heard before, and then she said, in a tightly controlled voice, “Does Lord Roseby know this?”
“No. Max would never do something so cruel, and he would not like his cousin acting on his behalf.”
“You know this on so short an acquaintance?” Aphrodite asked curiously.
“I-I do. It’s as if I have known him always.”
Aphrodite nodded thoughtfully, and then took a deep breath. “My advice is don’t tell him what his cousin has done,” she said. “You don’t want to be seen to be telling tales, and Max will discover it for himself soon enough.”
“I wasn’t going to tell him,” she said in a small voice. “It was far too humiliating, Madame. But for the next task we will have to meet somewhere else. In fact I am sure I would make better progress if I made him step outside the place where he feels comfortable.”
Aphrodite nodded. “Very clever, Marietta. You are right, he will always be the master in his own home.” She tapped the arm of her chair, the wood carved into a replica of the sphinx. She nodded again, more decisively. “Yes, I have decided upon your next task. It will be an assignation, as if between two strangers. Do not speak with him before you meet, and when you do you must pretend not to know each other. You are two strangers come together and seeking only pleasure. It will be easier then to play your part, will it not? It will be easier for you to take command, mon petit puce?”
Marietta’s eyes glowed. “Oh, what a marvelous idea! An assignation with a stranger.” And especially when the stranger was Max. “I-I like that very much, Madame. Where shall I meet him?”
Ap
hrodite smiled. “You will meet here, at my club, in one of my private rooms. I will arrange everything—food and drink will be brought to you, and Dobson will be close by if you should need him.”
Marietta shook her head and laughed. “I don’t think I will need him. Max is a gentleman, and it is very difficult to make him stop behaving like a gentleman. He probably wants me to fail, Aphrodite. I had a great deal of trouble even getting him to kiss me! I had to plead with him. But once he started, well,” she smoothed her sleeve cuff, “he was rather good at it, I will admit that. You were right when you said he would know how to kiss.”
Aphrodite gave her daughter an amused look. “Indeed. Well, a kiss is a great step forward. You should not slight it, especially when you worked so hard for it. You have done well to get so far with a gentleman like Lord Roseby. And don’t despair, I have hopes you will get much further. The harder the task, mon petit puce, the sweeter the victory. And it is all to help you, non? So that you can decide whether or not you want to be a courtesan, and whether you enjoy having a man kiss you and touch you and…and more,” she finished, evidently deciding Marietta wasn’t ready for too much plain-speaking.
“I do enjoy it,” Marietta insisted. “Madame, I enjoyed him kissing me.”
Aphrodite’s lips twitched. “But did you enjoy kissing him? That is far more important. The courtesan is mistress of the situation, even when the man thinks it is he who is master.”
“Yes, I did. Very much indeed. I-I didn’t want to stop, but Max pushed me away and told me that was enough practice. I thought that was poor spirited of him, but I believe he was worried he was going to lose control.”
“I believe you are probably right,” Aphrodite said, straight-faced.
“And I suppose I was taking advantage of him. He is still weak from the attack, although he likes to pretend he is fully recovered.”
“Sometimes men need to be taken advantage of. They do not know what is best for them, Marietta.”
“I only hope I can complete my tasks before Max leaves London.”
Rules of Passion Page 16
