Rules of Passion

by Sara Bennett - Greentree Sisters 02 - Rules of Passion

  “Good, then it shall go on as before between you and Max. I think, this time, you will meet in seclusion. A rendezvous between lovers who are not free to love, so the moment is especially piquant, oui? Would you like that, Marietta?”

  She looked up, her tired eyes amused. “It sounds intriguing, Madame, as you meant it to. Where should we have this secluded rendezvous?”

  Aphrodite smiled. “There is a villa in St. John’s Wood—it belongs to a prima donna, but she allows it to be used as an introducing house.”

  Marietta looked confused.

  “A prima donna is a kept woman, mon petit puce, and an introducing house is a place used by those who wish to remain incognito and yet meet others who are seeking similar entertainments. The villa is popularly known as the Lustful Lady. Max will have heard of it. You will meet him there tomorrow night at eleven o’clock. Do you think you can manage that, Marietta?”

  “I am sure I can.” The Lustful Lady—what an appalling name! But even that could not stop the sense of anticipation that was already creeping over Marietta. It was as if she was no longer in control of her own desires, and remembering the warnings Max had given her that was certainly a worrying thing.

  Marietta pondered whether she should mention to her mother that Max had asked her to marry him and go with him to Cornwall, but decided against it. Aphrodite might not think they should continue, or rightly suggest she find another man with whom she was not in danger of falling in love. And whatever the rights or wrongs of it, whatever the risk to herself, and despite knowing it could lead nowhere, Marietta wanted to continue making love with Max as long as possible—she wanted it desperately.

  Max prowled his house in Bedford Square, each footfall sure and certain despite the darkness. The Pomeroys and Daniel were asleep in their quarters and he was all alone. This had been his home since he was a baby and he knew it so well he did not need to see—he could have walked about blindfolded. Soon this house would be gone, handed over to Harold and Susannah, and when his father…that is, the Duke of Barwon, was dead, they would have Valland House, too. The life that Max had been so complacent about had been changed irrevocably by his mother’s letter, and his father’s reading of it at the new year supper. He could still hear the duke’s voice, trembling a little at the end, but strong and burning with his righteous anger. It was Max who had weakened and stumbled from the room.

  “…the affair was passionate and irresponsible, and a child was conceived. A son. What does a woman do in such a situation? Her lover has abandoned her to her fate and ruin stares her in the face. Even the most honorable of women is tempted to find a way out, and if a gentleman then offers for her and she finds that gentleman is in love with her, how can she say no? There are moments when she wishes to tell him the truth, many such moments, but as the days pass and his love deepens, she knows such revelations will destroy the happiness that could be hers. So she pretends the child is his, and he is overjoyed, and when the son is born no one comments upon his appearance. It is accepted that he is his father’s son. And he is named Max, and life goes on as if everything is as it should be and not a dreadful lie…”

  Max shook the memory from his head and kept walking, his stride growing longer and more determined as he tried to put the memories behind him. There was no point in regretting what was done, that wouldn’t change anything. Max had been forcibly ejected from the bosom of the Valland family, and Ian Keith was right, there was a sort of freedom in that. His plan to reopen the mine was beginning to interest him more and more, and the duties and tasks he had been trained to take over on his father’s death less and less. He could be whatever he wished to be; his life was a chart upon which he could plot a new course.

  Marietta.

  He remembered her skin beneath his hands, the warmth of her kisses, her body trembling as he led her with him into sensual paradise. This need for her that was burning inside him was new and disturbing. Stupid, too, because before, when he was heir to the dukedom, thoughts of marriage hadn’t interested him. He had believed that he had plenty of time for such mundane matters—of course he knew he would have to marry and produce an heir some day, but he had been in no hurry.

  If he had known Marietta then, would he have seen her as the woman he wanted above all others? Was Aphrodite right, would she have been on his carefully chosen list of prospective duchesses? Clearly Harold didn’t think so.

  For a moment Max grew hot and angry, thinking of his cousin’s high-handed interference—but that would keep. He would instruct the Pomeroys to ignore anything Harold had told them, and the next time Harold showed his face here he would deal with him. Harold might have taken everything from him, but he would not take Marietta.

  He leaned his head against the cool window and gazed down into the quiet square. Marietta would be awake now in that apricot bed, with the angels and cupids circling above her. He wondered whether she would be thinking of him, and decided she probably was. He had used her well, shown her pleasure that she had never known existed, and she had reveled in it. Still, knowing her as he did, he admitted that Aphrodite was probably right, and she would refuse to go to Cornwall as his wife. She had her stubborn sights set on being a courtesan.

  Of course there was more to it than that. Her heart had been badly broken, and with the pain and disgrace that had come afterwards she was naturally wary about having it broken again. He understood that, he respected that.

  But Max knew now that he wanted her enough to fight for her. Marietta had stepped into his life with her direct fearless gaze and decided opinions, and he wasn’t about to let her out again. He did not know if he loved her, but he wanted her. By God, he wanted her! Every moment he was away from her he wanted her more. It was as if she were a part of him now.

  In Cornwall they could be happy, he was certain of it. Children would come, and Marietta would love them, as he would. A quiet life but a happy one—it had its appeal. And the nights, oh yes, the nights…

  Marietta had begged him to teach her about desire; well, he was going to teach her! He was going to teach her so well that she would never want to be without him.

  Chapter 14

  Marietta was pale but determined as she prepared to leave the next morning to return to Berkley Square. Max could believe she would throw all her hopes and dreams away, if he liked, and run off with him to Cornwall, but he was deceiving himself and so he would discover soon enough. She would continue with their temporary affair, but it was just that—temporary.

  Aphrodite was standing with her in the vestibule, awaiting the carriage. Marietta glanced at her mother. And that was another thing, Aphrodite was acting peculiarly. Several times she had smiled, a little secretive smile, but when Marietta asked her what she was thinking, her mother shrugged and said it was nothing.

  Did Aphrodite know something she didn’t, and, if so, what could it be?

  “I have something to tell you, mon petit puce!” Aphrodite had reclaimed her attention. “I have visited your father and asked him if he wants to meet you, and he says that he does.”

  Marietta had an odd sense of fracture, as though this moment was not real at all, but a dream. Tears were stinging her eyes. She was going to meet her father. It should not matter to her so much—she had never believed it would—but now that it was happening, it did.

  “He has been in seclusion in the country,” Aphrodite went on gently, patting her shoulder. “He prefers to live there, away from London. Perhaps you should prepare yourself for a rather melancholy meeting.”

  “But…why has he been in seclusion? Is there something wrong with him?”

  “It is a sad story, Marietta. Adam—that is your father’s name—had an accident. His legs were damaged when a carriage overturned. Once he was a lively man who enjoyed his life to the full, but now he cannot get about as he did. He is often in pain and he prefers to live a simple life, so that is what he does.”

  Marietta didn’t know what to say. Her father was an invalid. “I-I am very so
rry for him then, Madame. Is he…has he a wife?”

  “Yes, he is married. She is dull.” Aphrodite pulled a face. “It means he does not have to exert himself to keep her. Perhaps I am unfair, though, for she seems to be fond of him and he of her. On the few occasions he comes to London she does not accompany him. He is my friend, and she knows that, although she likes to pretend I don’t exist.”

  “But you and he are no longer lovers?”

  Aphrodite blinked. “No,” she said, and glanced sideways, to where Dobson was standing by the door. “No, we have not been lovers for many years. But we are fond of each other, and he has been a great help to me in business matters.”

  Marietta nodded as if it was all clear to her, but she was feeling rather vulnerable. Adam sounded very unlike her and she could not imagine them ever being close after all this time. They may as well be strangers.

  “What is his full name?” she said.

  “Sir Adam Langley. He is a baronet, and although he is wealthy, he is no Fraser.”

  Fraser, Vivianna’s father, had been very wealthy indeed.

  “I wasn’t counting on a wealthy father,” Marietta said automatically. “Sir Adam Langley,” she repeated, and smiled. “I like his name, Mama. I hope I shall like him.”

  “I hope so, too, Marietta. But there is something more you should know, mon petit puce. Your father has other children. Five of them.” She said it with a lift of her elegant eyebrows. “So you will never inherit, although…” But she shook her head. “Well, I will let him tell you about that.”

  “Five children?” she whispered uncertainly. “Brothers and sisters?”

  “Oui.”

  Marietta felt a stirring of excitement. She would like to meet her half brothers and sisters one day, although it did not sound as if her father’s wife would be very likely to welcome her into their family. And truthfully, Marietta could not blame her.

  The carriage arrived soon after, and Marietta settled herself for the journey back to her sister’s house.

  She didn’t expect too many awkward questions—fortunately Vivianna’s time and attention were taken up with her baby son—although she knew she did not look her best. Max was right, learning about desire was very fatiguing.

  A smile tugged at her mouth, and she bit her lip to subdue it. She wanted to hug herself and close her eyes and let the memories fill her head. Her body was still a bit sore this morning but it was a pleasant sort of ache. Now and again she would feel a slight tingle, as if her most sensitive places were remembering Max, too.

  Tonight they would meet at the Lustful Lady, and Marietta knew she could hardly wait.

  The house in Berkley Square was a shambles. Boxes and trunks were piled up in the hall, and there were servants scurrying about like scolded cats. Her heart beginning to thump with excitement, Marietta made her way into Vivianna’s sitting room.

  A woman looked up from a comfortable chair by the fireplace, her heavily bandaged foot resting upon a plump cushion on a stool. Fashionably dressed in a velvet traveling gown with fur trimmings, she was middle-aged and attractive, with fair hair and light eyes. At the moment those eyes looked tired and there was a crease of pain between her brows, but both were chased away by joy when she recognized Marietta.

  “Mama!” Marietta cried, and in an instant was on her knees at her mother’s side, her arms clinging.

  Amy Greentree gave a choked laugh, and then she lifted Marietta’s face, blinking back tears as she gazed down into it. “Do you know, my dear,” she began huskily, “when you were little, if you had done something of which you knew I would disapprove, you always hugged me the tighter when you saw me. So what, Marietta, am I to think now?”

  Marietta wondered at herself for being so transparent, but then Lady Greentree always had the knack for seeing straight into her daughters’ hearts.

  “I am just glad to see you, Mama,” she said tearfully, rising to her feet again. “How is your poor ankle? Are you sure you should be traveling so far so soon? I did not think to see you in London for weeks.”

  Lady Greentree allowed her to change the subject, although the expression in her eyes told Marietta that she did know something was amiss and was choosing not to mention it. “My ankle is still a little tender, but I can get about and the traveling was no bother. I simply sat and let others do things for me. Very lazy of me, really.”

  “Does Mr. Jardine know you are here?”

  Amy Greentree’s smile was open and without any coyness. “No, he is out, but he is expected back very soon. It will be nice to see him again—do you know, I have missed his sensible conversation.”

  Marietta experienced her usual frustration. Just a downward sweep of the eyelashes or a flutter of the fingers and she might have been able to hope that her mother felt something more for Mr. Jardine than staid friendship. Yet again it seemed a hopeless case.

  “But you have seen Vivianna and your grandson?”

  Amy sighed, her eyes growing misty. “Oh, I have indeed. I have been sitting here thinking that I am a very fortunate woman, Marietta. If I had not come upon three lovely little girls on my estate all those years ago I might now have been a lonely and embittered old widow.”

  “Fortunate? Hmm, I would say you deserve your good fortune, Mama, if that is what it is to put up with three stubborn and difficult females. In fact no one deserves it more.”

  “I would have to agree with that.”

  The voice came from behind her, and Marietta turned with a cry of glad surprise. There stood Francesca, tall and slim, her cloud of dark hair barely restrained, her equally dark eyes full of pleasure. Marietta hesitated, thinking: Francesca, here in London?

  Francesca laughed. “Yes, it really is me and not a wraith! I could not allow Mama to travel on her own, could I? Besides, I was desperate to see Vivianna’s son.”

  The sisters embraced warmly, they had always had a special closeness, being the two nearest in age. Marietta wished she could tell Francesca everything that had happened to her, but she was wary. Her sister would probably not approve. Of all three girls it was Francesca who most resembled Aphrodite, and yet it was Francesca who most resented being a daughter of the famous courtesan. Was this the chance for mother and youngest daughter to get to know each other a little better?

  “I cannot stay long.” Francesca immediately dashed her hopes. “I need to return to Greentree Manor as soon as Mama is settled and comfortable.”

  Amy Greentree gave her youngest daughter a sympathetic look. “Do you already find London too much to bear? I admit, it is very noisy and some of it is very grubby, but Vivianna assures me one becomes accustomed.”

  “I cannot imagine it,” Francesca said bleakly.

  She did look paler than usual, Marietta admitted, and there was a wild look in her eyes, a little like a trapped animal. Of them all, Francesca was the one who loved her home in Yorkshire the most. She strode the moors as if she was a part of them, and her vivid, rather melancholy paintings reflected that.

  “Well, I for one am very glad to see you, Francesca, and will be very sorry to see you go,” Marietta assured her. “In fact I would be extremely hurt if you were to leave before you had stayed at least a fortnight. Or more. There is much to do and see in London, and I want to show it all to you. Wait until you’ve been up in a balloon—”

  She stopped, but too late. Amy was staring at her with narrowed and suspicious eyes. “A balloon, Marietta? I hope you have not partaken of this treat yourself, have you?”

  “They are very safe, Mama,” she replied sweetly, making her eyes big and innocent, but not actually answering the question.

  Francesca choked on laughter, but Amy wasn’t impressed.

  “Very well, a fortnight,” Francesca said, before there was an argument. “But I am only agreeing to it because you have begged me, and you obviously can’t manage without me.”

  “Psht!” Marietta replied to that, but she secretly wondered what her sister would think if she were to discover
what she was up to with Max. Learning about desire with a disinherited duke. Francesca would be appalled. Or would she? In some ways Francesca was even more unconventional than Vivianna and Marietta.

  “What is the matter with Lil?” her sister asked her a little later, as they made their way upstairs. “She was quite strange, not at all her usual dour self. I think she even made a little joke. Of course we were all too surprised to laugh. Has she been ill?”

  Marietta cast her a sideways glance. “Sick with love. She has met an aeronaught and spends all her free time flying with him in his balloon.”

  Francesca was suitably astonished by this. “What of Jacob?” she asked. “I thought it was all arranged that they marry?”

  Marietta had always known Lil had no intention of marrying their coachman. She considered herself far too superior, and her sights had been set higher.

  “Mr. Keith is a very nice man, not at all the conventional sort, and he worships Lil. You will see.” She hesitated, and then launched into a subject she dearly wanted to broach with her sister. “Aphrodite has told me the name of my father, Francesca, and I am to meet him. Now that you are here, perhaps—”

  Immediately Francesca stiffened, and her dark eyes grew even darker. “I’d rather remain in ignorance, thank you. I am not interested in my father. Or my mother.”

  “Please, Francesca…”

  “No, Marietta.”

  There was no moving her younger sister when she was like this, and Marietta knew it well. With a sigh, she said no more, but she was sorry. Her own need to meet her father was growing stronger. In fact she could hardly wait…if only she were not so nervous that he would not like her, or that he had heard about her disgrace and would be disappointed in her.

  It was just a pity that Francesca would not share this journey of exploration with her.

  Uncle William, Aunt Helen, and Toby had been invited for dinner, and the dining table at Berkley Square was almost festive as the family exchanged memories and stories. Vivianna did her best to smile and enjoy herself, but it was clear Oliver’s continued absence was making her unhappy. Marietta herself, though very pleased to see Lady Greentree and Francesca, yet found her thoughts slipping away to Max.