Mastering the Marquess (37 page)

“So what of Ruby’s?” He did not like to ask, but sensed it would not be any easier later.

“Ruby’s?”

“Madame Rouge’s. Now tell me of Brookingston.”

He heard her swallow. “I do not have the full answer. I learned after about six months of marriage that he was visiting Madame’s.”

He raised a brow in question.

“I had him followed. I wished to know where he went when he left me at night—and in the afternoon. I did not believe he went to his club. And, of course, he did not. I tried to speak to him about it once, but he changed the subject. I tried again and he stomped from the room—not an easy feat for a man with one leg. I did not try again, but I was not ready to give up. I sent a note to Madame Rouge. She agreed to meet with me, but would tell me nothing except that I should stop asking my husband questions, that there were things he did not wish me to know. She tried to assure me that it had nothing to do with me, that my husband simply had special needs. I left her and never asked him again, but it did cast a pall upon aspects of my marriage.”

“I can only imagine.”

Her fingers clenched his tight. “You know most of the rest. When I decided I wished to
remarry, I went to Madame again; I did not know where else to turn. Despite our difficulties I would never have shamed my husband by letting anyone know of his problem, his failure. I wish that you did not know now.”

“But I do.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Did you ever learn more of what his problem was?” It was not his business, but he could not help but ask.

Her eyes dropped to her lap, focused on those clenched fingers. “Madame told me some. She told me that he could not come and that he needed strong sensation, perhaps even pain, in order to feel anything. I did not ask further and she did not tell me. I should not even have told you this much—it was his private business. However, I know that we need honesty between us, and so I have talked of it this one time.”

Brookingston had needed pain in order to feel. Swanston did not know exactly what that meant, but he could guess. It was no wonder the man had gone to Ruby’s. He raised his head and looked at his wife. She was even paler and more worn than when she had first entered the room. “We will not talk of it again, unless you wish. I do thank you for sharing it with me. It helps me to understand.”

“You are welcome.” Her head dropped and she looked exhausted, both by her words and the lack of sleep last evening.

“Do you wish to ask me a question now or should we put it off? Perhaps you should retire to your chamber and rest.” He brought her hand to his lips and laid a soft kiss upon it.

She moved it up to stroke his cheek. “No, I will ask.”

“Yes?”

She sat up straight, her hands slipping from him, although her leg still moved restlessly against his. “Tell me why you do not like your family? I know you care for them—handle their affairs—but I do not believe that you like them. Why not?”

Chapter Twenty-five

Louisa could see the surprise upon his face. That had not been the question he expected. He had probably thought she would ask something about Charles, about Ruby’s—but this question seemed more central to who he was.

His lips tightened, and the edges grew white. “I do not dislike my family.”

Oh, this was going to be more difficult than she had anticipated.

“Then how do you feel about them?”

He did not answer her. Instead he looked away, staring at the portrait of a blond woman over the fireplace. “She resembles Bliss. Your mother?” she asked.

“Yes. She died when my youngest sister was born.”

“I am sorry.” And she truly was. She could not imagine having grown up without her own mother.

He kept his eyes on the portrait. “It did not change my life much. The governesses and tutors raised me. Even before her death my mother was not responsible for my care.”

“I do not believe that.”

“I can assure you it is true.”

Sliding off the desk, she eased toward him until her legs met the front of his chair. “Is it really that simple? Somehow I do not believe that it is.”

“It is as simple as I choose it to be.” He turned to look at her. “I am responsible for my family, including my father. I manage the estates and the finances. I make sure the bills are paid and the servants kept happy. What more do you need to know?”

“You are not telling me everything.”

“I do not know what you want me to say.”

“Tell me about Bliss. I have met her several times, and she seems a lovely woman. I am surprised she does not live here, with you.”

“She chooses to live with my father. ” His tone made it clear he was not happy with the situation, although his expression did not change.

“And why do you not live with you father? The duke’s residence is large enough for a
whole circus.”

“Given the size of my family, that is a good thing. And it is not unusual for a young man to maintain his own residence.”

She leaned forward slightly. “Yes, but most of them keep bachelor apartments. You keep a house almost as grand as your father’s. And you had it before our marriage, so don’t pretend that you bought it for the family you planned.”

“It actually is part of the ducal estate, but I pay for its upkeep. I can afford it.”

“I didn’t say you could not.”

“And I did want it for my future family. Surely, you know I am a practical man. I often plan things years ahead. It is the way to be sure one achieves one’s goals.”

She raised a brow in imitation of his earlier gesture. “Yes, I do know you like to plan. But this seems to be taking it to extremes.” She gestured about the room.

“I like my comforts.”

“We are straying from the subject. You stated that many young men do not live in the family home. You did not tell me why you do not. Given that you do manage everything I would have thought you would benefit from being there.”

“I do not get along with my father. Is that what you wish me to say?” It was his turn to lean forward, bringing them eye to eye. “You are wrong, however, that I do not like my father. He is an immensely likable man. We simply do not get along.”

“Why?” She would not back off.

“You simply will not give up. I find him irresponsible. You know about the leasing of the estates that led to our marriage. He is currently obsessed with the raising of llamas. You don’t even know what they are, do you? A large South American animal with fine wool. He is convinced that they will make him a fortune.”

“He told me of them at a ball. They do not sound so bad.”

“Not until he spends thousands of pounds on them and then they all catch a chill and die. You were not around when he tried raising rabbits. He kept them everywhere, including the London house. I shiver even at the memory.”

“What happened?”

“He discovered that he didn’t care for killing them. There were over three hundred of the varmints at their peak, and he regarded each one as a pet. We spent a fortune feeding the things
and cleaning up after them.”

Louisa shuddered at the thought. She definitely sympathized with the duke’s not wishing to kill them, but … “At least if he is raising llamas for wool they will not need to be killed.”

“That is true, but did you know that they spit? You would be quite amazed at the distance.”

“You are distracting me again. I can see that your father might not be easy to deal with, but I still sense that your feelings are stronger than that.”

He leaned back, patted his lap. “I do think I might feel more like revealing myself if you were closer.”

She considered. He was probably trying to distract her again, but …

“Sit here.” He patted his lap, but this time spoke it as a command, not a request.

Still, she thought about refusing. Giving in to his orders did not come easily to her, at least not during daylight. With some reluctance she stood and turned, perching on his thigh.

“Closer.”

She turned her head and looked up at him. “Tell me more first.”

“Aah, this is all a bargaining match.”

“I believe, sir, that you began it.”

“So I did.” He placed a hand upon her waist. “When I was a young boy I adored both my parents, thought they were the best parents ever. Most of my friends had parents who never saw them or ordered them about, but I was a Danser and all of life was a celebration. I remember endless games and staying up to all hours of the night—and I cannot have been more than six or seven.” His face softened with reminiscence.

“It sounds wonderful.”

“Mostly it was. The servants did a good enough job of running things, and if the manor was not quite clean and we paid three times what things were worth, what did it matter. We had each other and more than enough money.”

Geoffrey’s face grew solemn. “But sometimes my parents forgot to call us down for dinner—and the servants did not consider it part of their employment. There were nights my siblings and I went hungry. And times when a doctor was not summoned until the very last moment. Often our clothes were two sizes too small and our shoes worn. But then my mother would decide to send for the tailors and the dressmakers and within a fortnight there would be
rooms filled with clothes. I had no schooling until I was almost ten. My father never had the time to interview tutors, and my mother didn’t see that another year of freedom would hurt.”

She snuggled back a little, offering comfort for wounds long healed—or perhaps only scabbed over. Her cheek came to rest upon the soft wool of his coat.

Running a hand through her hair, he continued. “There were six of us by then. There’s myself and my brother James, whom you have not met; I bought him a commission and he sails the seas for his majesty. Then there are the three oldest girls: Anne, Bliss, and Dahlia. Bliss you know well and the other two you saw at the wedding. Anne is the oldest after me. She’s married with several children. My brother Robert gads about. I never know when I will see him, or where. I am not always sure how he supports himself, but he has never come to me for funds.”

“And then you have another sister?”

“Yes. Felicity. She is the youngest.”

“The one who …”

“Yes, she never had a chance to know my mother. But back to where I was. There were six of us when my father finally hired a tutor. I resisted at first, but then fell into my studies until they were all I knew. I delighted in the order that they represented. I’d never experienced anything like it. I loved it. I found myself ignoring all else just so that I could bury myself in my books. I didn’t even mind the discipline. It was a wonder to me after the constant festival that had been our home.”

“And then your mother died.”

His whole chest expanded as he sucked in a deep breath and held it. Louisa could feel his heart speeding under her cheek. There was something he wanted to say, but still held back. She tilted her head and laid a soft kiss against his throat.

“I lied to you.” He spoke so quietly she hardly heard.

“What?” Dread filled her as she considered all the possible lies.

“My mother did not die in childbirth. That is a story that was told for fear people would think she killed herself—or worse.”

“What?” This time it was more exclamation than question.

“I never lie—and I do mean never. I don’t even tell polite social lies. If you ask me if you look attractive in a vile shade of pumpkin I will tell you exactly what I think. I never lie, but this one has followed me since I was thirteen years old.”

“What happened?”

“Felicity was three days old, and my mother was growing bored in bed. She could never bear to be still for a moment longer than necessary. Bliss is just like her.” He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. “A traveling circus had come to town. We’d all attended—except my mother—and while I’d gone back to my studies the others had decided to make it a game. Robert was trying to juggle. The girls wanted to be acrobats. James was pretending to be the circus master and my father was a lion chasing them all about. I watched from my window across the courtyard. I enjoyed their silliness.”

“I can understand that.”

“I not sure how much of the rest is memory and how much I’ve been told. Some parts are so vivid I must have seen them; others I don’t see how I could have known. My mother, as I’ve said, grew bored. She could hear the play from her window and came out on the balcony to watch. She was dressed in some white fluttery thing, her fair hair loose about her shoulders. And then she climbed onto the balcony rail and announced that she would be the ropewalker.”

He closed his eyes. “A moment later she lay on the stones below. I will never forget that sight. That I
know
I saw.”

“Oh, Geoffrey.” Tears prickled her eyes.

“I’d been just about to come and join them. Even when I saw my mother all I could think was that I had the best parents. I learned differently. My father had barely taken care of us before her death. Afterwards he noticed us not at all. I was sent to Eton within the month and did not return home for nearly a year. He forgot to send someone to get me at the holidays.”

The first tears leaked down her cheeks.

“Don’t feel sorry for me. I was the lucky one. When I returned home, the girls were filthy. The servants were eating better than the family. My brother had not had a lesson with his tutor in months. And my father. My father threw parties and drank and danced. And my siblings danced with him. I actually found James downing a bottle of whiskey while my father and his so-called friends looked on. I was only twelve and James was slightly more than a year younger. And not one of them—not my father, not any of his friends, not my siblings—thought there was anything wrong with how they were living.”

“And so you took over.” It was a simple statement.

“Yes. I fired half the servants, went through the accounts, sent all the friends away. I
locked my father in his chamber until he was sober enough to sign whatever needed to be signed. Even when I went back to school I kept track of things, and the new manager I’d hired kept the estates in shape. I daresay my father could have wrested control from me if he’d tried, but he never did. He would have had to care to try. And he’s never cared for anything besides his own fun.”