Devil's Desire (7 page)

No one could have guessed how far-reaching the death of his father had been. He was killed in a duel shortly before the birth of his second son—murdered by an adversary who had fired early. Alex remembered his father as a man of action who loved parties, gaming, and even more, the hunt. He thoroughly enjoyed life, but he had little business acumen. He'd let the estate run itself and the holdings go unchecked for years. Westerly, however, had been kept up, partly due to the efforts of his mother, and was still a magnificent manor house.

But Lady Trevegne had not lived to enjoy it—nor had she lived long enough to see her second son. A birth and a death—nature equalizing itself,

Alex, bitterly resented the fact that Peter had never known her. There would never be another woman like her. She was the only woman he had ever trusted. He remembered her bright blue eyes—Peter's eyes—laughing, teasing, letting him pull her golden curls out of place, hugging him tightly when she put him to bed. She had made each day seem a gay holiday; each night in front of the grand fireplace, a make-believe world of fairies and elves, blood-thirsty pirates and brave knights-filling his world with a love and security lost forever with her death. He had felt cheated by it, but at least he had his memories. Peter had nothing.

Gradually he settled down to his way of life and accepted it. He seldom went to London, and then only on affairs dealing with business and the estate. As he got older, he missed at first the closeness of his friends and the gaiety and pleasures that life in London could give a young man. But as the time passed, he matured faster than his friends, living an easy and frivolous London life. His healthy country life turned him into a virile man, his hands strong, lean and brown, not the lily-white hands of the town gentleman. Even when he had returned to London after years of exile, he couldn't completely forget his other way of life. His muscles remained firm and rock-hard, and he was capable of great endurance and strength—enjoying boxing and fencing, riding hard, unable to feign fatigue as many of his contemporaries seemed fond of doing after a light canter.

He became a member of the Corinthian set and of the Four-in-Hand Club, with his unparalleled expertise at fhe reins. He was invited to many a rout, party, and week-end outing, but his cynical nature only gained in strength as he participated in the social whirl of London life. Over the years, rumors began to surround his handsome and haughty figure. & he withdrew further into himself with his cynicism-presenting an inscrutable mien to the world the stories grew about him. He was an unknown entity. His wild escapades, some true, some not, began to gain him fame throughout London, and combined with a certain mysterious aura that surrounded him, fired people's imaginations. Nothing is so intriguing as a mystery-a puzzle. And the Marquis of St. Fleur presented one. His luck with chance, beating the odds, was uncanny. He never seemed to lose; whether it be at cards, or with the ladies.

When he entered a room, dressed totally in black, as he seemed fond of doing, he could set feminine hearts fluttering from a mere glance of his golden eyes. He was indifferent, arrogant, and at times insultingly rude even to the most beautiful women, but that only added to his devil-may-care figure. And the thought of his estates, money and the famous Trevegne jewels made him more desirable yet.

"You don't mind if I stay in London for awhile, do you?" inquired Peter hopefully.

"No, stay as long as you wish, but do try to act with a little decorum for a change."·

"You needn't worry. I won't do anything that you yourself wouldn't do," Peter promised rashly, a twinkle in his eyes.

"That's precisely what has me worried," replied Lord Trevegne seriously as he walked to the door with his brother, cuffing his ear fondly as he warned, "Be careful, Peter. Remember I won't be here to help you out of a difficult time."

"Don't worry, old boy," Peter grinned, but with serious eyes for once. "I shall be a model of society, and do you proud," he said in farewell, leaping down the stairs two at a time, his promise already forgotten.

Alex stood shaking his head, a frown of worry on his forehead as he turned towards his bedchamber, and the sleep long awaited. He wanted Peter to have what he had missed in his youth, but maybe he was too lenient with him at times. He didn't want Peter to feel deprived of anything. He deserved everything that he could give him-small comfort for never having known either of his parents.

"Very well, Your Lordship," Dawson, Lord Trevegne's secretary answered, clearing the large, mahogany desk of the accounts and orders they had just been through for the last hour. Will there be anything else, M'Lord?"

"No, just continue as usual, and no advances to Peter, unless I approve them. And if anything urgent should arise send me a missive immediately," Alex answered, straightening his lacy, white cravat before the mirror. "Otherwise, I leave you in charge, Dawson. I've complete confidence in your ability."

"Thank you, Your Lordship; Dawson answered, flustered by the compliment.

"You do me a great honor, and may I wish you a pleasant journey-although it promises rain before evening. It shall be a wet and gloomy morning for your trip tomorrow. Are you sure you wish to ride on ahead of the carriage, Your Lordship?" he asked worriedly.

Lord Trevegne looked at the small, gray-haired man with his stooped shoulders and squinting eyes. He trusted Dawson implicitly, as he could few other men. Dawson had taken over management of his estates for him many years ago, and Dawson knew as much, if not more, about his financial affairs than he did himself. He told Dawson the truth when he stated he had complete confidence in him.

"No need to worry, Dawson. I shall—" Lord Trevegne began to answer, when there was a knock on the door. It was opened by a footman announcing stiffly:

"Lady Mariana Woodley, Your Lordship."

He stepped aside as Lady Mariana swept regally into the room in a bright-red, velvet walking dress and matching fur-trimmed mantle and bonnet, her hands tucked into a large, dark, fur muff; her exotic perfume reaching out to the two men standing in the middle of the room as she moved toward them.

Dawson made his way to the door unnoticed. He never liked Lady Mariana, and personally speaking, was glad that His Lordship was finished with her; he only wished that he could send her on her way without so much as a by your leave. In fact, His Lordship would have been surprised to learn this was the consensus of most of his household.

"Alex, darling," she murmured softly. "You have been very impolite by not coming to see me since I've returned from the country." She pouted prettily.

Lord Trevegne watched through narrowed eyes as she moved towards him, her long, narrow hands now outstretched gracefully. She was indeed a beautiful woman, her dark-brown hair superbly coiffed to reveal a long, slender neck, beautifully arched like a swan's.

He looked down into her liquid, brown eyes and long artificially-darkened lashes, her lips raised, inviting his kiss, a kiss that he knew could be long and deep; fully reciprocated by her. He did not desire her as he once had, but he could still feel admiration, and something more, as he continued to stare at her. His eyes wandered slowly over her rounded, white breasts, barely concealed by the low-cut, red velvet of her dress and his memory filled in the rest of her curvaceous body—the feel of her warm and naked, lying pressed against his own bare flesh.

He turned abruptly away. “What do you want, Mariana?" he asked impatiently as he walked over to his desk, selecting a thin cheroot from a carved wooden box. He lighted it, and turning around, exhaled smoke which masked his expression, the aroma of the fine tobacco engulfing her heady perfume. "It's not proper, my dear, for an unescorted lady to call at a gentleman's home during the day."

"And when have either you or I ever done what is considered proper?" she countered.

"I really didn't believe that we had anything further to say to one another. We've both made our decisions, and I intend to keep to mine. From what I've heard, you have been doing the same—unless, of course, they're only rumors," he added tauntingly .:

"They are not rumors!" Lady Mariana answered angrily, her dark-brown eyes flashing.

"Well then, what have we further to say to one another?" Lord Trevegne replied coldly.

"We've everything to talk about, Alex.” She moved closer to stand directly in front of him, her eyes looking beseechingly up into his hard, golden ones.

"Can you actually stand here, before me now, and say you do not desire me? That you don't wish we were upstairs—"

"Don't, Mariana," he said harshly, gripping her soft arms with hard, biting fingers. "You're just cheapening yourself by going on this way."

"Cheapening myself!” Mariana cried shrilly. "I'm merely stating the truth—the bare facts. We're in love with one another. At least I admit it!”

"No, Mariana. We desired each other, that's alI, nothing more. We both knew that it would end someday and you just ended it sooner by your threats. No one threatens me, or tries to blackmail me, my dear." He pushed her away from him in disgust, and looked away from her angry, white face and heaving breasts.

"I only threatened to leave you for the Duke—unless you married me—to try and force you to admit to yourself that you loved me and wanted to marry me. You can't stand the thought of some other man making love to me, can you?"

"My dear Mariana, I don't give a damn whose bed you warm. What we had is through. You finished it yourself, although I must admit it would have ended shortly as the heat of desire became cold ashes," he said indifferently.
        
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"I don't believe you. You're mad about me. I'm in your blood, just as you're in. mine," she' spoke passionately. "I could have had Linville over a year ago, but no, I decided to let becoming a Duchess take second place to my love for you."

"Ah, yes, the Duke. That really has been your supreme goal in life; Lady Mariana, the Duchess. Don't blind yourself to your real motive with me, my dear. You may have desired me, but you also desired all that I hold, including the diamonds and emeralds and other fabulous trinkets which will drape the next Lady Trevegne, Marchioness of St Fleur.
         
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"You knew that I never thought of marriage when our affair began, but you didn't seem to mind. You even told me once you enjoyed your widowhood free to sample all the delights without having a jealous husband to worry about, I believe you said. Why the sudden change of face, my dear, or was it a charade all along—get me in bed with you, in love with you, then legally tied to you?"

"You beast!" Lady Mariana spoke, trying to regain her composure, her nostrils flared, her pupils dilated in anger at his revelation of the truth which she could not deny. She threatened leaving him and promised to marry the Duke if he wouldn't marry her. She was so sure of her control over him that she thought he would plead with her to stay and marry him immediately, but instead he told her to do as she wished, he didn't care. She thought his pride was merely injured and that he would, soon come after her, but he didn't. He ignored her and even cut her in front of people at Almack's, giving her that contemptuous look that she had seen him give to the hangers-on who tried to flatter him and seek his favors. The whole plan got far out of control and she was desperate to put things back in their proper order once more.

"Can't we forget what has happened, Alex? We can go back to the way it was before we had this little quarrel. I'm here now, offering you—"

"No, it's no use, Mariana. Neither of us has changed, and I think I know you well enough now to know that you're unable to alter your ways. Besides, the fire has died; I no longer want you. I didn't want to be so blunt, but these conversations do neither of us any good."

Lady Mariana stood silent; a confused look on her beautiful face. She had always had her way, always received what she wanted. She was the only daughter of elderly parents; spoiled and petted, expecting constant attention and pampering from her admirers. Being raised on a country estate, she grew up craving the excitement and gaiety which she sampled occasionally in London. Praised as a nonpareil in her first season in London, she quickly made an advantageous match with young Lord Woodley in order not to have to return to the country and her elderly parents, who could not face the rigor of hectic London and the constant entertaining. And she was now a member of the peerage, no longer just Miss Mariana Greene; but the Lady Mariana Woodley. They enjoyed themselves in her first years in London, living wildly and extravagantly; living for fun rather than for each other and she was not broken-hearted when he died in a drunken stupor beneath the wheels of his overturned curricle, for there was one less person to spend the money now, and she could pursue her own desires first.

She was called The Wild Widow Woodley around London, and she wholeheartedly enjoyed living up to that name. Then, after years of casual, light-hearted affairs she met Lord Trevegne and fell in love for the first time in her life. He had been in London when she first made her debut, and she could remember how his dark, virile looks had excited her, but then he disappeared. He was traveling around the world, she heard. She forgot about him until one evening when they met again, and she knew that she had not forgotten, as the desire flared between them.

From then on, she laid her plans carefully, for this was the man she wanted. Her only regret was that he was only a Marquis, and not a Duke. But she allowed her ambition to be drowned by the tide of his desire, thinking she would have to settle on becoming a mere Marchioness. And at least there were the Trevegne jewels, worth a King's ransom, to salve her disappointment. She knew of his reluctance to become married, the rumors circulating that she wouldn't last a month, but she was so sure of his love and desire for her and of her own powers over men, that it never entered her head that he wouldn't ask her to become his wife. She pretended to be in horror of a second marriage, and as anxious as he to keep her freedom. She did not want to scare him off, after all, she had plenty of time, and she was not about to do something she might regret later.