Rules of Passion (28 page)

Max jerked back as if from a striking snake. Slowly, stiffly, he rose to his feet, looking every bit as formidable as the duke.

“I will not take anything from
you
, sir. I will not have anything of
yours
. Please leave.”

Barwon appeared shaken. “You don’t under
stand,” he said, and his voice had lost all its former arrogant certainty. “When I read your mother’s letter it was as if I had sustained a fatal wound. When she died, at least I could mourn her, but then I lost her again and this time I could only hate.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” Max said quietly.

“No,” the duke nodded his head slowly, like an old man. He
looked
like an old man, the lines scouring his cheeks, his shoulders bent. “No, it wasn’t your fault, Max. When it happened I couldn’t think clearly. I wanted to hit out at someone and there was only you left. I-I lost my temper.”

“Do you expect me to forgive you?”

“I regret deeply what has been done! I want to make amends, Max. Let me make amends.”

Max looked at him bleakly. Where did he begin to explain that the relationship between them could never be the same again, no matter how much money the duke threw at him? Couldn’t his father see that? Was he so deluded that he did not realize that it would never be what it was?

“Have you told Harold and Susannah about this plan of yours?”

“It has nothing to do with Harold or Susannah, but I will inform them. I wanted to talk to you first, Max. Besides, Harold will do as he’s told.”

Max looked at him with dislike. “I see.”

“I want to put all this unpleasantness behind us.”

At that moment Max felt his anger soar to new levels. He did not think he had ever been this furious before in life, but neither had he felt so free to express it. Being disinherited was more liberating than he could have imagined.

“Do you know, father, I don’t care what you want.
I don’t even care about Valland House. I’m quite content with mother’s house in Cornwall. I’m looking forward to it—I have plans for the old mine. You’d probably scoff at them as paltry, and I would have agreed with you, once. But I don’t have to think about the estate any more. I don’t have to remember I’m a duke’s son and I must behave accordingly, that I have duties and responsibilities, and my life is structured around them. I am simply Max Valland and I am free to do whatever I want to. So I’m going to Cornwall to live…with Marietta if she’ll have me.” He paused, and now his voice dripped ice. “And if you’ve hurt her, Father, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

“For God’s sake, Max! Right now you probably don’t believe you’re worthy of a respectable woman, but stop and think! When I’ve sorted matters out you’ll be able to have your pick again and—” The duke’s voice rose and took on a desperate note. “Max! Max, come back!”

But Max had walked out. He could hear his father’s voice behind him, one moment angry and the next pleading, but he didn’t listen. He walked downstairs and out the front door, ignoring the twittering of Mrs. Pomeroy and Pomeroy’s anxious questions. He walked along Bedford Square and into Bloomsbury Street and he kept walking. And for the first time in his life he didn’t give a damn if he never saw the Valland townhouse, or his father, again.

Francesca was patting her sister’s back, murmuring comforting noises. The door opened and she looked up, her voice anxious as she said, “She won’t
stop crying.” The bed shifted beneath the weight of another person, and Vivianna’s gentle hand smoothed aside Marietta’s tangled hair so that she could see her flushed, damp cheek and swollen eyes.

“Marietta,” she whispered, “my dear. I am so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I do not care if you insult the duke, insult him all you like. I do not care if you insult the whole of London society and poke your tongue out at the queen…Well, perhaps not the queen,” she added cautiously. “But the rest of them don’t matter a jot to me. You are what is important and I think, for a moment there, I forgot that. Forgive me or I will never be able to bear it.”

Marietta turned her face and saw that Vivianna was crying too. With a wail she flung herself into her sister’s arms, and found that Francesca had joined her.

“We need to be together,” Vivianna said, trying to catch her breath on little sobs. “We need to stay together. We’ve always survived by staying together, and if we don’t…if one of us should be hurt again, then we will all be hurt.”

“All for one,” Francesca said in a muffled voice.

Marietta giggled. “And one for all?” she asked, sniffling.

Vivianna nodded seriously. “Exactly.”

There was a tap on the door, and Lil stuck her head around it, eyes widening at the sight of the three sisters with their tear-streaked faces. “Sorry to interrupt, my lady, but there’s a gentleman downstairs to see Miss Marietta, and he don’t look very happy.”

Marietta covered her face. “Not the duke again.”

Lil shook her head. “Not this time, miss. This time it’s his son.”

Max, here? Marietta sat up. “I…I’m in no state. I can’t face him. Not after what his father said.”

“Do you love this man?” Francesca asked her seriously. “This Max? I’ve never seen you like this before, Marietta. Never. I think you must feel something for him.”

Marietta looked bleak. “I don’t know what I feel. I count the moments until I see him again, and I miss him when I’m not with him, and I dream about him at night when I’m asleep.”

Vivianna sighed elaborately. “Oh dear.”

“Is
that
love? But what does it matter if I
do
love him? I can’t marry him—I’ve told him so—and I’m afraid,” her voice trembled. “Remember what it was like when I was left at that inn and I had to find my own way home…I had no money and the wood carter gave me a ride on his wagon, and then Mr. Jardine came and when I-I called out to him he didn’t even recognize me. His face.” The hot tears ran down her cheeks. “The shock on his face. I felt utterly destroyed. I can’t let myself fall so low again, I just can’t!”

Vivianna patted her back comfortingly, but her voice was firm. “Marietta, why do you imagine Lord Roseby would ask you to marry him unless he meant it? He is an aristocrat, despite his damaged reputation, a gentleman with connections and class. Frankly he is not the sort to ask you to marry him unless he sincerely wanted you to be his wife. If you love him, Marietta, then you should think very seriously about accepting.”

Marietta swallowed nervously. “My heart—”

“Oh bother your heart,” Francesca interrupted. “Really, I think you worry too much about getting it broken. You can’t go about with it wrapped in tissue paper like a family heirloom, Marietta. Take it out, dust it off and give it another try.”

“But how can I face him alone? Perhaps his father has spoken to him and persuaded him to withdraw his offer? What if I say y-yes and he’s changed his mind!”

Vivianna hugged her. “We’ll all go,” she said firmly. “Francesca, too. If he has anything to say to you, dear sister, then he can say it to all of us.”

Marietta laughed shakily, but Lil rolled her eyes. “You’d better hurry then,” she said dryly. “He looked like the sort of gentleman who’d only wait so long before he came storming up here after you.”

When she opened the door, the first thing Marietta thought was that Lil was right. Max looked capable of anything. His face was taut and pale, the healing scar standing out dramatically on his temple, and his dark hair blown into wild curls by the wind. He must have walked here from Bedford Square—she did not put it past him. But it was his eyes that caught and held her attention.

They were burning with raw emotion.

“Max?”

“Marietta.” Relief softened his expression briefly, until he saw the other two women behind her. Vivianna and Francesca edged into the room and stood silent and watchful.

“My sisters.” She answered his unspoken question. “Lady Montegomery and Miss Francesca Greentree.”

Max bowed politely, and she smiled to think that he was so much the gentleman that even in circumstances like these he must do the right thing.

“Can we speak alone?” he asked.

“I…no, if you have anything to say I think it should be said before my sisters. Your father has already called here today.”

Max sighed. “My father, yes, I see. He has never had any common sense when it comes to dealing with other people’s emotions. He thinks it is enough to say sorry.” He shook off his melancholy. “I do not ask you to forgive what he said to you, only to consider it in the light of his misguided affection for me.”

“He needn’t worry,” Marietta said stiffly. “I won’t marry you, Max. You’re quite safe from my unsavory reputation.”

Max groaned and looked as if he’d like to tear his hair out.

“Marietta, I don’t care about your reputation! We can be happy together. This other nonsense…I can’t bear to think of you throwing yourself away like this.”

“I’m not throwing myself away,” she said quickly. “I’m protecting my heart, Max.”

“I love you.”

There was a tense silence. Francesca caught her breath, and Marietta could imagine what she was thinking—Max as the perfect Byronic hero. Vivianna said, softly, “Lord Roseby, do you know what you are proposing?”

Max’s eyes did not leave Marietta. “I want to marry you. I love you.” He lifted his arms. “What else can I say?”

Tears were stinging her eyes but she held them in. She had the terrible urge to tell him she loved him, too, and throw herself against him. As she teetered on the edge of the precipice, she remembered Oliver and Vivianna’s words, about happiness not being something she should lightly throw away. She had made a bad choice last time, and she had suffered for it, but that did not necessarily mean she would make a bad choice this time. And Max didn’t feel like a mistake; he felt completely and utterly right.

Perhaps the time had come to trust her heart once more.

Tentatively Marietta took a step forward, and it was easier than she had imagined. So she took another. Max was watching her, holding himself still, waiting to see what she would do. When she reached him he still didn’t move, and now it was as if he was afraid of frightening her away.

She reached up and touched his cheek, the most tender of caresses.

“Yes, Max,” she said. Just for a moment it was as if she was falling to earth with a crash, but then the sensation changed and she was floating with happiness.

Max smiled his gorgeous smile. “Marietta,” he breathed, and drew her into his arms in front of her sisters as if he had forgotten they were there. Or perhaps he didn’t care. “You’ll never regret it,” he murmured in her ear.

“I hope
you
never regret it,” she said in a little voice. “I’m glad you’re not going to be a duke, Max, because if you were we would never have met, and I
could never have married you.” And then she gasped as he held her tighter.

As if he would never let her go.

Vivianna cleared her throat. “Lord Roseby, I think you should release my sister now.”

He looked at her, his eyes dazed.

“So that we can congratulate you!” Vivianna added, and came forward with her hands out, her face beaming. Francesca, not far behind, was laughing and saying that when she came to London she never expected to see Marietta agree to be a wife.

By the time he had been welcomed into the Greentree family by Marietta’s two sisters, and then by Lady Greentree, who arrived back from visiting Aunt Helen, and Mr. Jardine, who appeared to be more of a family friend than an employee, Max was exhausted. Oliver drew him aside for a glass of brandy, and to tell him quietly that Marietta was a dear girl and he was very fond of her. Which, Max supposed, meant that if he ever did anything to hurt her he’d be in for it.

“Cornwall will be a long way from her sisters,” Max said, watching the three women laughing and talking, already making plans for the wedding.

Oliver shrugged. “She can always visit them, and they can visit her. If she is happy she won’t notice so much.”

“Yes.” Max smiled.

Just then Marietta caught his eye and her face lit up. She did love him; he could see it. He was happy, truly happy, and if he hadn’t mentioned to her his father’s plans to reinstate him in the bosom of the Val
land family, then it was because he had refused the offer.

Refused it irrevocably!

Besides, if she thought for one moment that he might be a peer again, then she wouldn’t marry him. And Max knew he couldn’t bear to lose her now she was finally his.

The room was shaded, as if its occupant could not bear the sight of the bright sunny spring day. Marietta saw him, a dark shape slumped in his chair.

Aphrodite touched her daughter’s hand, and when Marietta glanced at her, nodded towards him. “He is in pain. The traveling is not easy for him. But he wants to meet you, Marietta, very much. You must be kind to him, and patient,
oui
?”

Marietta nodded and approached her father. She was glad now that she had read the diary last night. To know even that small piece of her father’s past, and that he had a long-standing business relationship with her mother. He had helped her to start Aphrodite’s Club, shared in the costs, but allowed her to run it as she wished. Aphrodite trusted him so completely that even when they were no longer in love she still thought of him as her friend, and asked his opinion on business matters.

He was watching her, his head resting on his hand, his eyes following every step. His legs, withered and useless, were covered by a woolen shawl despite the
warm room. Marietta tried to smile but her lips were trembling. This was her father, she told herself, and she was to know him at last.

“Marietta,” he said, and she saw then that his eyes were blue, like hers, and his hair fair, though graying at the temples. “I am sorry you should see me like this, daughter. The journey to London was painful for me and I am not yet fit for company.”

“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 accepting—”

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!”