Rules of Passion

by Sara Bennett - Greentree Sisters 02 - Rules of Passion

  “I am sorry to hear about your…troubles.”

  He held out his hands and she saw that his fingers were long and elegant and he wore a jeweled ring on one of them. “Sit down with me, Marietta, and let me see you properly.”

  She sat down on the sofa and felt her chin lifted, her features scrutinized as he turned her face to one side and then the other. Then he sighed. “What is it?” she whispered, wondering if he was disappointed in her. The possibility hurt her.

  “You are so beautiful, daughter,” he said. “You have the look of my mother. She was a pocket Venus, too. A small whirlwind who my father adored. I will always remember her now when I look upon you.”

  Aphrodite came forward and, smiling tenderly, bent to kiss his cheek, and Marietta realized anew how fond they were of each other. “My poor Adam,” she said gently. “I do not like to see you like this, mon ami. Should we go and leave you to rest?”

  “No, no,” he murmured. “I want to gaze upon our beautiful daughter, Aphrodite.”

  Aphrodite turned her smile on Marietta. “She is lovely, certainly.”

  “And what are you going to do with all that beauty, child?” Adam asked. “You are twenty-one and still unwed, your mother tells me. I cannot believe the men of England are so blind. Perhaps you are waiting for the perfect man, eh? Well, believe me, you will never find him.”

  Marietta glanced at her mother. She had not yet told Aphrodite about Max’s proposal. She had wanted to wait until they were together, her parents and herself, before giving them the good news.

  “I have found the perfect man, sir. His name is Max Valland and he has asked me to marry him, and I have said I will.”

  Aphrodite gave a little gasp. “Marietta! You naughty girl, you kept this secret from me.”

  Marietta tried to read her eyes. “Are you glad?” she whispered. “I am sorry I will not be following in your footsteps, Mama, but I…I do not think I would make a very good courtesan.”

  Adam’s eyes had been fixed on their faces, and now he laughed. The laugh turned into a spluttering cough, and Aphrodite fetched him a glass of cordial and held it to his lips. He drank, coughed again, and managed to regain control of himself.

  “She reminds me of you, my dear Madame,” he said at last, his voice husky from exertion. “Beware of following your heart, Marietta. It can lead you into places you would rather not be. Isn’t that so?” This last was to Aphrodite, who pulled a mocking face at him.

  “Life is for living,” she retorted. “I may have made mistakes, Adam, but at least I have lived.”

  He nodded, all humor gone from his face. “You are right. Make certain that this Max treats you well, daughter, or he will have me to answer to.”

  “He is a duke’s son,” Marietta said. “At least he was…”

  “I don’t care,” Adam retorted. “You’re too good for him.”

  Marietta was delighted. This was the first time since she had met Max that anyone had said such a thing, and it warmed her heart.

  Aphrodite took both their hands in hers. “I am very happy,” she said. “I did not think it was right for you to be a courtesan, Marietta, and Max…He is a gentleman, and I can see he loves you very much. Please, be happy.”

  Adam squeezed her fingers. “Perhaps Marietta, you will come and visit me in the country? I have a house in Somerset, and there I live a simple life. Do not laugh, but I even work in the garden with my hands, potting plants and watering them.”

  “I would very much like to come and visit you at your house in Somerset,” Marietta said firmly.

  “Good, good.” He patted her hand and smiled, and it was as if he could not think of anything else to say. He exchanged a meaningful look with Aphrodite.

  She turned to Marietta. “I have something important to tell you, mon petit puce. Aphrodite’s Club belongs jointly to me and Adam, and we agreed many years ago that as our child, it should be yours when the time comes. We want you to be the owner of Aphrodite’s Club, Marietta. What do you think of that?”

  They were both watching her intently.

  Marietta did not know what to say. Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh,” she whispered.

  “It is a business,” Adam said quickly. “You should think of it like that, my dear daughter.”

  “It is a house of pleasure first and a business second,” Aphrodite retorted.

  Marietta smiled to hear them bickering.

  “Are you shocked?” Aphrodite asked her gently, her watchful eyes serious. “Do you wish to say no?”

  “We will understand,” Adam murmured.

  Marietta didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Aphrodite’s Club would be hers! In a way, she would fulfill her dream of following in her mother’s footsteps, and she would have Max, too.

  “I would be proud to be the owner of Aphrodite’s! Thank you both so much.”

  Adam nodded, pleased, and Aphrodite sighed. “Then I am glad, too, Marietta. But let us hope that day is far off, oui? Now,” she stood up, “your father is tired. We will leave you to rest, Adam. Perhaps Marietta can come again before you return to Somerset?”

  “Of course, I would like that. It has been too long.”

  Marietta hugged him tightly, and then they left him. Aphrodite peered at Marietta a moment, and then curled an arm about her waist. “Do not fret, mon petit puce. It is sad that such a thing has happened to him but he is fortunate in other ways. You should not pity him.”

  “I don’t pity him,” Marietta said thoughtfully. “I just wish he was able to walk again, for his sake, not mine.”

  “I had planned another task for you, remember? You were to meet your Max at the masque ball at Vauxhall Gardens. Do you still wish to go ahead with this?”

  “Oh yes, thank you!” It would be a celebration of their happiness, a triumph for love.

  “It will be your last assignation, mon petit puce. I have decided that you will be wearing a golden mask and a red cloak with fur at the hem, and Max will be wearing a black cloak and a silver mask. You will meet him at the rotunda and he will take you with him through the Dark Walk. Very romantic. There, that should please you! My engagement gift to you.”

  It did please her. “And what are the rules this time?” she asked curiously.

  Aphrodite laughed. “Why have rules? You could not obey them last time, so I will not bother with them this time. You can set your own rules, Marietta. Be happy; there, that is my rule for you this time—you must simply be happy.”

  I will be happy, Marietta told herself. And yet…Now there was a new doubt to ruffle her calm seas. What would Max think of her one day owning Aphrodite’s Club? He might say he cared nothing for her reputation and her scandalous parentage, but could he also turn a blind eye to her being the proprietor of a bordello?

  I won’t tell him. After all, it won’t be for years and years and years.

  And yet in not telling him Marietta felt as if she was already betraying him.

  Max smiled when he received the note from Aphrodite, congratulating him on his coming nuptials and informing him of his rendezvous with Marietta at Vauxhall Gardens.

  He would miss the intrigue and excitement of such meetings, but the thought of being married to her brought a warmth to his heart that he had never felt before. There would still be passion and desire, but there would also be trust and love, and the joy of spending his life with the woman he wanted above all others.

  “Max?”

  Startled he turned, the note fluttering from his fingers. Harold stood inside the room, watching him, his mouth pinched and unhappy.

  “I have heard that you are to be adopted by the duke.”

  “I have declined, cousin,” Max said cautiously.

  Harold shrugged, as if he didn’t believe it. “I am glad for you, of course I am, but I cannot help but wonder whether he means to restore you to your previous position. Susannah thinks he will. Where does that leave us, Max? I feel as if I am in limbo.”

  “I have no intention of acce
pting—”

  But Harold waved his hand impatiently. “You say that now, but in time you will weaken. He will work on you and you will agree. Marietta Greentree will work on you, too. What woman in her position would not want to be a duchess!”

  Max felt anger tighten his muscles and sinews, but he held it in check, reminding himself that his cousin was upset. This was his father’s fault, once again he had ploughed ahead through other people’s emotions, his eyes fixed only on his desired goal. He moved to the drinks tray, to pour some brandy for them both. “Sit down, Harold, and we can talk.”

  “It isn’t for me, you understand,” Harold didn’t seem to hear him. “I am thinking of Susannah.”

  He turned and found that Harold had retrieved the note and was reading it. Max felt his cheeks color at the intrusion into his private life, but Harold didn’t even seem to notice what he was reading. He set the note down and took the drink Max held out to him.

  “Marietta and I are getting married, and we will live at Blackwood. I have decided to reopen the old mine. It will give employment to the villagers and perhaps put some cash in my pockets. You probably think it very strange, Harold, but I don’t need Valland House or anything else that I used to think of as mine. There is freedom in being without, and besides, I will soon have the brightest jewel of all.”

  “I wish,” Harold began, but whatever it was he wished for he changed his mind about sharing it. Instead he swallowed his brandy and said, “Am I invited to the wedding, Max? I promise to be on my best behavior.”

  Max fixed him with a stern look. “I’ll think about it.”

  Harold smiled, and shook his hand. “Good luck, cousin,” he said, “and I do mean that.”

  Max stared thoughtfully after him. Harold was not himself, but then who could blame him after what the duke had done to them both? He wondered if his cousin was right, would he weaken and allow his father to reinstate him as the heir? And if he did, would that mean losing Marietta? She had made her feelings plain on becoming a duchess—she thought her reputation cancelled out such a future. If it came to a choice between being heir to a dukedom and Marietta’s husband, Max knew which of the two he preferred. He was in no doubt at all.

  In the library at Berkley Square, William Tremaine was giving Mr. Jardine one of his infamous glares.

  “I’ve seen the way you ogle my sister, Jardine. Don’t think I’m blind or a fool, for I am neither.”

  Mr. Jardine felt his face burning. “You are wrong, Mr. Tremaine. I have no intention—”

  “Yes, well, save your explanations. I don’t want to hear them. In fact I think it would be best if you offered your resignation forthwith.”

  “Certainly not!”

  William’s blue eyes narrowed dangerously. “You’re disobeying me?”

  “I am not employed by you, I am employed by your sister. Of course if she were to ask me to resign, that would be a different matter, but until then I will continue on as I am.”

  “Setting your sights at her! I know what you’re up to. You think you’ll retire on her money and in the comfort of her home. Well, I won’t have it, do you hear! I won’t—”

  “William!”

  Before William could finish his sentence, another voice spoke from the doorway. It was Amy Greentree, leaning on her walking stick, her cheeks pink with anger, her eyes glittering very much like her brother’s.

  “How dare you speak to Mr. Jardine in that manner! And how dare you infer that he would in any way try to harm me or…or insinuate himself into my private life. He is a gentleman and a dear friend as well as my secretary. I am furious with you. You have no right to speak to him like that!”

  William blew out his cheeks. “I have every right. I am the head of the family and—”

  “That has nothing to do with it. I-I am grateful for your concern,” she said, clearly not grateful at all, “but I have never sought your advice.”

  He dismissed that with a wave of his hand. “You are a woman, Amy, and you need a man to correct you when you make mistakes. As your brother, it is my right to—”

  “I am a mature woman, William. A widow with three grown-up daughters. I do not need anyone to correct my mistakes.”

  “You do not know the world as I do, sister. There are men in it, marauders, who would worm their way into your affections simply for what they could pillage.”

  Amy was breathing fast, her hand clenched upon the walking cane, and when she replied her voice was deceptively quiet. “Be warned, William, if you persist in interfering in my life then I will cut you from it.”

  He stared at her a moment as if he could not believe what he had heard. “I am the head of the family, Amy. I will have no scandal and this man is—”

  But she stopped him. “I will not hear Mr. Jardine slandered by you. Go home, William, and mind your own business. You are not wanted here today.”

  He opened his mouth, closed it again, and then with an angry huff, stood up and left the room.

  Amy took a deep breath, and then another. She was trembling. “I don’t know how I could have been burdened with such an insufferable brother. I do apologize.”

  Mr. Jardine approached her carefully, as if William’s words had made him extra sensitive about his behavior around her. “It is not your fault, Amy. Do you think I would pay any attention to a windbag like that? You know me better, I hope?”

  Amy laughed, tears of anger and upset drying from her eyes. “Yes, I do. At least I hope I do.”

  “Then put it from your mind, as I shall.”

  “I wish I could,” she sighed. “I wish I could understand what has him in such a state. He is always difficult, but lately he has been worse.”

  “At least you can be sure when you return to Yorkshire that he will be unlikely to make the journey to see you.”

  “Yes, I am safe from him there.”

  She looked at him a moment, blinked, and then looked away. Her face paled slightly. “I-I will leave you to your work, Mr. Jardine.”

  He bowed, and then stood, listening to her faltering steps fading in the hall. Had she seen something in his face? Had she suddenly realized that William was right, and that his feelings for her were much warmer than a secretary’s should be for his employer? Strangely he almost hoped that she had—at least then the truth about his love for her would be out in the open between them.

  For so long he had been content to love her in silence. He was a hopeless case, he supposed, but what was the alternative? The thought of upsetting a sweet creature like Amy Greentree with inappropriate advances appalled him.

  But she was right about William. For whatever reason he had been diabolical of late—perhaps the three girls had put him in a state, they seemed to be always attracting scandal or gossip. Had he heard the latest about Marietta and Barwon’s son? Maybe that was it. Whatever had put a flea in William’s ear, Mr. Jardine was looking forward to getting home to Greentree Manor and some sense of normality.

  And then a glimpse of Amy’s face a moment ago flashed into his mind—her eyes not quite meeting his—and he wondered if things could ever be the same again.

  Amy Greentree stood alone in the entrance hall. For some reason she felt disoriented, as though she were on the verge of some momentous decision. Although her anger for William still lingered it had been swallowed up by something else. Something she realized she should have seen a long time ago.

  Mr. Jardine loved her.

  But she loved Edward…still loved Edward, even though he had been dead now for a great many years. Losing your husband did not mean you stopped loving him. And yet at this moment she longed to feel a man’s arms about her, to rest her head upon a masculine chest, to be treasured and protected and loved.

  Mr. Jardine loved her and she was very fond of him. She had not realized until a moment ago, when William was threatening him, just how fond of her secretary she was. Just how much she would miss him if he went away. Her life would be quite…empty.

  Amy Greentree felt
as if she had been asleep for a very long time, and now she was about to wake up.

  “David?”

  Startled, he stood up, knocking his pen and papers to the floor. Amy had returned, and she had called him by his first name, something she never normally did. As she came toward him he noted that her face was pale but determined, and this time her gaze was fixed on his.

  “Amy?”

  She placed her hand carefully upon his shoulder, and looked deep into his eyes. Mr. Jardine didn’t move—he couldn’t. He wondered what she would see there in his eyes—love for her, certainly, and all the years of devotion and loyalty he had given to her. But would she see the promises he longed to make to her, and the life he wished to have with her?

  Amy smiled, and she was so beautiful he blinked. And then she leaned forward and touched her lips to his, the lightest of kisses.

  “This is for being you, David,” she whispered.

  The door closed gently behind her.

  David Jardine collapsed back into his chair like a man who has looked through the gates of paradise.

  Chapter 18

  Marietta reached up to make sure that her gold mask was secure. The smiling disguise covered the upper half of her face and it was surprising how difficult it was to tell her identity once she had it on. Her red cloak with the fur hem swirled every time she moved, while underneath the cloak was a dress of the same vibrant red. The color made her skin seem almost translucent, while her hair gleamed like gold and her eyes blazed like sapphires. Aphrodite had fondly told her she looked like a princess—Marietta had dressed at the club—but she did not think she resembled anything so insipid as a princess. She was more like a pagan goddess; an idol to be worshipped.

  She smiled. Already the tingle in her blood was growing warmer, anticipation made her body alert and her heart beat faster. Her senses responded to the clothing she was wearing—the softness of the velvet and fur, the silken luxury of her stockings, the tight push of her stays beneath her bosom. The neckline of her red gown was low, almost indecently so. Marietta had never worn anything so daring in public and she wondered what Max would think.