The Love of a Libertine

by Jess Michaels

  Morgan drew back. There it was. The puzzle piece he’d been missing, and it snapped into place and completed the picture perfectly. “It was a real connection.”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “I could talk all I wanted to a portrait, but there was never any message back. But the garden plans, that is like seeing her heart. Hearing her voice again. It is a guide to exactly what she wanted. And I’m the conduit to give that to her.” She shook her head. “What if I do it wrong, though? What if I don’t complete her vision as she wanted it? What if we make changes like you did when you removed her roses and she wouldn’t have approved?”

  He caught her breath. Now he truly understood her reaction to what he’d done. And though he’d meant the surprise as a happy one, he still regretted not discussing it with her first, considering the consequence now.

  He hated to see her trapped in the past. Trapped in the approval of a woman who had been dead for over a decade. A woman he had to believe would wish only good and happy things for her only daughter.

  He stepped up to her slowly and caught her hand between his. He lifted it and pressed it against his heart as he held her gaze evenly. “If the vision isn’t entirely hers, then it will be partly yours.”

  Her brow wrinkled. “I’m not sure that helps, Morgan.”

  He smiled at her confusion. “I didn’t know your mother, but I would wager you must be rather like her.”

  A blush filled her cheeks with warm color. “If I am, that would be a compliment of the highest order. She was lovely and so kind.”

  His smile broadened. “Then you are her true heir, Elizabeth, for you’re both those things and more. I can’t imagine she would want you to punish yourself over those plans. Yes, I’m sure she would love the idea that you found her incomplete vision and are working to make it a reality. But I must believe she’d also love the idea that the garden would ultimately be a shared vision, something that contained you both.”

  Her eyes widened. “Wh-what do you mean?”

  “If she had lived—” He paused when Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears. She gripped his hand tighter and he pulled her a fraction closer in support. “If she had lived, you two would have redesigned this garden many times, don’t you think? You would have planted and replanted. You would have changed things to suit you both. If you loved the garden as much as she did, she would have brought you into that world and shared it.”

  She blinked. “Yes. I suppose she would have.”

  “Then she would want you to have a place here as much as she did. Don’t you think?”

  She worried her lip a moment, and he could see her pondering that, rolling it around in that amazing mind of hers. And then she smiled. For the first time since they had begun this conversation, the expression wasn’t sad or filled with tension or regret. She truly smiled, and it was like someone had lit the world up with the brightest sunshine.

  His chest filled with pride that a few little words from him could do that. It felt like the greatest accomplishment of his life.

  “You’re right, of course,” she whispered. “When you say it, I can picture it perfectly. That past that should have been, that future that would have been. And I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to bring a tiny bit of myself into whatever we do here.”

  “I think it would be wonderful,” he corrected her.

  She turned into him, and suddenly they were chest to chest. Her upturned face was such a temptation, and he fought to keep himself from taking her lips yet again. He had almost won the battle when she lifted on her tiptoes and wrapped her hand around the back of his neck. She drew him down and this time she was the one who pressed her lips to his.

  Morgan was a strong man. He’d fought to be so out of necessity. But in this moment, he had no way to battle this woman. He let his breath out in a harsh sigh and surrendered to the gentle insistence of her tongue as she darted it against his lips. The kiss deepened and his entire body pulsed with growing need for her.

  This was only getting more desperate now, this desire to be near her, to touch her. It couldn’t end well. And he didn’t give a damn. Not when she was kissing him.

  She stepped away with a blush, and the spell over him faded. It was reckless to let this happen, of course. To keep kissing her in the bright light of day in the garden where anyone watching from the house could see. It was going to get him sacked at best. Called out to duel at worst, and he had to assume Brighthollow was a good shot. Men like him always were.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “You helped.”

  His resistance faded at that simple phrase. He didn’t think he’d helped very many people in his life. Hurt some, certainly. The note in his pocket proved that. But helped?

  He swallowed back the strong reaction he hadn’t expected and offered her his elbow. “Of course. Now, what do you think of going over those plans again? Perhaps we can see where we might put a bit of you.”

  She hesitated a moment but then slid her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Do you know those tall bushes on the east lawn?” she suggested.

  “Yes.”

  “What do you think about trimming them into the shape of animals?”

  He glanced down at her with a laugh as they headed toward the house and her study where she kept the plans for the garden. “Animals.”

  “You know, little bunnies. Cats.”

  “Foxes,” he suggested.

  “Oh, to stalk the others!” she said with a giggle that warmed his heart in a way he shouldn’t have allowed.

  “I like the way you think,” he said.

  They were about to head up the stairs toward the terrace above when Brighthollow started down toward them. Elizabeth slid her hand from Morgan’s arm as she stared up at her utterly unreadable brother.

  “Oh, Hugh,” she said, and Morgan heard the tension in her voice. She was obviously worrying over the same thing he was. Had they been seen?

  “Lizzie,” Brighthollow said, and arched a brow down at Morgan as he stopped in the middle of the staircase. “Might I have a word with you?”

  She swallowed. “Of course. I’ll join you.”

  She hurried up to her brother and took his arm. At the top of the stairs, she glanced back at Morgan. Her blue eyes were wide, not fearful, but concerned. And lovely. And he couldn’t help but watch as long as she was still in view.

  But once she was gone, he shook his head with a curse. He was in a lot of trouble. Not because Brighthollow might sack him, but because the connection he felt toward Elizabeth Margolis was not going to lead to anything good, that was for certain. And he hated the idea of it leading to something bad.

  Chapter 10

  Lizzie stepped into her brother’s study. They parted and he crossed to the sideboard to pour himself a drink, while her throat closed with anxiety. And so she filled the uncomfortable space between them by talking.

  “Did you see the gazebo staring to go up?” she asked. “It’s almost entirely framed out—I wasn’t expecting that to happen so soon. I think we should paint it, what do you think?”

  “Lizzie,” Hugh said softly.

  She pretended not to hear him. “Or perhaps let the natural color of that pretty wood remain? And a table inside, do you think? Or benches around the perimeter? It’s so hard to say. Mother only sketched in the gazebo’s placement, so I suppose this is a way to put me into the garden.”

  “Lizzie,” he said a second time, and this time he stepped toward her so she couldn’t pretend not to see his concern or hear it in his voice.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  He shut his eyes and let out his breath on a shaky sigh before he asked, “Did I make a mistake in bringing Morgan Banfield here?

  She clamped her mouth shut and clenched her fingers so they would no longer shake. It didn’t work, of course—now it was her entire hand shaking. Her entire body.

  But she fought to remain calm. She didn’t want Hugh to see how moved she was by that question. By the fear that question invoked. “I don’t
know what you mean,” she said at last.

  He lifted his eyebrows. “I’ve seen you two together several times since his arrival.”

  “We’re…we’re working on the garden. Of course we must be together. You asked him to help me. That’s…all there is to it.” She tried not to think of Morgan kissing her. Hugh would read something on her face if she did that. He knew her so well.

  “Is it?” Hugh leaned in closer. His voice was so gentle. “Lizzie?”

  She froze, for that was the tone of voice he’d used when she was a little girl and he knew she’d done something naughty. She had learned not to lie to him because he always seemed to know the truth. Because she respected him enough not to do so.

  But Hugh was protective. Even more so since that terrible incident with Aaron. If he knew that she and Morgan had connected far more deeply than mere conversation about a garden, Hugh would surely sack him. And she didn’t want that. More to the point, Morgan didn’t deserve it. He’d been respectful of her boundaries. He’d never forced anything on her.

  Today, she’d been the one to start the kissing, hadn’t she? At least the last time. So she couldn’t, in good conscience, do something that would cause Morgan grief.

  “Hugh,” she said with a swallow. “You are seeing things that aren’t there.” She took her brother’s hand. “I-I wouldn’t do anything untoward that would cause you anguish again. And Morgan Banfield has a certain reputation that should…scare me.”

  Should. And did. But also drew her. She had to question if that made her weak, but she ignored it. This was not the time to analyze her secretly wicked soul.

  Hugh nodded. “I suppose that is true. You’ve avoided any man of questionable reputation since…well, since before.” She sensed his relief and it cut her to the bone to know she’d worried him. She had done that once before and seen his pain as a consequence. He’d tortured himself for months after her fall. He’d almost ruined everything with Amelia as a result.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  He shook his head. “I’m protective, as you know. Amelia has tried to break me of the habit, but I only…I do love you, Lizzie. And I only want your happiness and security. That is always on the top of my mind.”

  She smiled at her brother. This man who had raised her with such a loving heart. Seeing his worry drew her up short when it came to Morgan and those kisses. Perhaps she had gone too far, not just for herself, but when it came to those who cared for her.

  “I know you always have my best interest at heart,” she said. “And I adore you for it.”

  He seemed to shake off the worry, probably for her sake as much as his own. “You say they have the gazebo framed out. I’m very curious what all you’re doing in the garden. Will you tell me about it?”

  She pushed thoughts of Morgan away. “Why don’t you walk with me and I’ll show you?”

  Hugh nodded. “I’d love that. Lead the way.”

  She did, taking him back to the garden she’d recently abandoned. To both her relief and her disappointment, Morgan was already gone. That meant she could focus on her brother. And try to forget the longings Morgan had awoken in her.

  In the end, they were dangerous for them both. And it was probably time to have a conversation with him once and for all about ending whatever bond they were forming.

  Morgan stood in the parlor, staring at the note he’d received earlier in the day. Since parting with Elizabeth in the garden hours before, he had been more focused on the threat that note contained.

  He had enemies, of course. His wild ways had resulted in bad gambling losses…and wins…and a plethora of grumbling husbands from all corners of the country. It had also resulted in broken relationships. People he’d once been close to whom he had betrayed and harmed. He flinched at the idea, self-loathing filling him along with the memories.

  In the end, though, his bad behavior meant he had no idea who might be threatening him. Or over what.

  He only knew it was a reminder that he might try to find respectability, but there would always be a past to catch up with him.

  “Chickens will come home to roost,” he muttered as he tossed the note into the flames and watched the words be devoured. “And the past can never be fully overcome.”

  “That sounds ominous.”

  Morgan turned and sighed as Robert entered the parlor. He was alone, so there was no buffer to be had between Morgan and his brother. At present, he thought they needed one.

  “You would know,” Morgan muttered, and stepped away from the fire so his brother wouldn’t see the last remnants of the threat. It would be fully ash in a matter of seconds.

  “I suppose I do have a past,” Robert said with a shrug. “And sometimes I’m reminded of it with an unpleasant confrontation in a ballroom or club. But for the most part, I’m able to leave it behind. Or the parts of it that no longer serve me. I’ll never be fully tamed, but Katherine seems to like the wildness that remains. You could have the same experience if you want it.”

  Morgan stepped closer and glared at Robert. “Can I? Can I really, if someone who is my supposed ally is going around talking to people about my past? Never allowing me to let it go?”

  Robert’s brow wrinkled. “Are you talking about me?”

  “Of course I’m talking about you,” Morgan snapped. “Why the bloody hell did you arrange this, Roseford, if your intent was to sabotage me?”

  Robert took a long step back, and his expression was a combination of pain and anger. He reached behind him and slammed the parlor door to give them privacy, and then he folded his arms. “What the hell are you talking about? How have I sabotaged you?”

  “A few days ago, Elizabeth talked to me about what she called my wild past,” Morgan admitted. “How in the world would she know about that unless someone had told her? Told everyone about where you found me in London before you went to Brighthollow?”

  Robert stared at him a beat, two. “Yes, I did speak to Brighthollow about your…behavior. And when you say it, I suppose I should have discussed that with you first.”

  “You goddamned well should have,” Morgan growled. “But you didn’t, and I can only imagine why you’d go behind my back.”

  Robert clenched his hands at his sides. “I don’t know what you think I intended, but there are two reasons I spoke about your past. First, I thought I owed Brighthollow the truth before I asked him to consider you for his man of affairs. The man is my friend and has been most of my life.”

  “Ah, yes. Your true family. All those dukes,” Morgan spat.

  Robert flinched. “They are my family. I would have nothing, I would be nothing, without them. But you are my family, too. Or at least I’d like you to be if you could pull your head out of your arse long enough to see I’m not our father. I’m not your enemy.”

  “So you say,” Morgan barked. “But you have our father’s title and you hold the purse strings just as he did, so pardon me if I get confused about the similarities.”

  He didn’t expect Robert to charge him, so he wasn’t prepared when his brother pushed him back. “You don’t know a fucking thing about our father or about me!” he shouted, right in Morgan’s face. “You don’t know anything about what I’ve done to prevent that devil from having any quarter in my life.”

  Morgan shoved him in return and Robert staggered. “I know enough.”

  Robert’s face twisted and Morgan prepared to get punched, and knew he probably deserved it. But before the argument could escalate even more, Lizzie rushed into the room.

  The two men backed away from each other as she said, “I could hear shouting from the hallway. What is going on?”

  Robert stared at Morgan and Morgan stared back. The moment felt like it stretched out forever. But then Robert turned away. “Nothing, Lizzie. My apologies for upsetting you. Excuse me.”

  He left without another word, without a backward glance, and Morgan pivoted away to the fire. He hated that he and Robert had gotten so heated so fast. Hated
that there was so much beneath the surface between them that could bubble up instantly.

  “Morgan,” Lizzie said softly.

  He turned to find she had come toward him a few steps. She was halfway into the room now, and she was watching him. Waiting for an explanation, he thought. One he could hardly give.

  “It’s not your concern, my lady,” he gasped out.

  “Probably not,” she conceded. “But I’m making it my concern. Why were you fighting with Roseford?”

  Morgan bent his head. “I just…realized the other night that Robert has…said things about me. And I don’t like that he’s bringing my past up with others. It feels like he’s trying to destroy me.”

  His brow wrinkled. “Then why would he help you get this position?” she asked. “If he wanted you to fail, he could have abandoned you wherever he found you.”

  “Gaol, my lady,” he admitted, because at least he wanted her to hear it from his lips. “He helped to extricate me from Newgate before he brought me to your brother.”

  “Oh,” she gasped and the color faded from her cheeks. “I-I didn’t know.”

  “At least that’s something,” he muttered, and ran a hand through his hair.

  “Morgan,” she said softly. “It’s obvious you and Robert have a connection that is…fraught. I’m sure you have reasons for that, for it seems you both had a difficult relationship with your father. And not being raised together must complicate things.”

  He shrugged. “I suppose.”

  “But…but I can tell you from the outside it is obvious that Robert cares for you. He wouldn’t have brought you all the way here and vouched for you with Hugh if he didn’t care.”

  Morgan shook his head. “Well, that’s a very rational thing to say.”

  She laughed softly. “I suppose that thwarts your desire to see him as an utter villain.”

  “It does.” He found himself smiling slightly. “Somewhat irritating of you, my lady. I was very happy stewing in loathing for my brother.”

  “My apologies then,” she said with a soft laugh. “I should not have disturbed a good stew.”