The Dutiful Rake (18 page)

‘It will be of the first importance to arrange a suitable match for her,’ went on Lady Fellowes. ‘I am sure Lord Rutherford has so many amiable friends—’

Meg interrupted at once. ‘I beg your pardon, Cousin! I can see someone I wish to speak to most particularly. Pray excuse me.’ With a charming smile she took her leave and looked around desperately for someone she knew.

A deep voice at her elbow said, ‘At a loss, my dear?’

She stared up into her husband’s enigmatic grey eyes.

He possessed himself of her hand and placed it securely on his arm. ‘Never, my dear, make your escape before you have the route thoroughly planned. You may find yourself out of the pan and into the fire.’

‘I don’t know what you are talking about!’ she snapped, furious that he should have been listening and seen through her ploy so easily.

‘Did you not wish to escape from your hypocritical cousin?’

‘Certainly not,’ lied Meg, without the least hesitation. ‘My cousin is perfectly amiable. I merely saw someone I wished to speak to!’

‘Oh? Who is it?’ asked Marcus. ‘I will engage to escort you to your unknown friend.’

‘That, sir, is none of your business!’ Her eyes blazed at him. ‘We have a bargain, do we not?’

‘We do,’ agreed Marcus. ‘Are you bent on fulfilling your side of it?’ Steel-hard eyes bored into her. She met them bravely, shuddering inwardly at what he was suggesting. ‘Again, sir, it is not your business if I am.’

Grey ice chilled her to the bone. ‘I would point out, madam, that there is a little matter of an heir to be settled before you emulate your mother’s career.’ He bowed and left her.

Jack Hamilton, watching this exchange from an alcove, winced. He could not hear what was being said, but he didn’t need to. He knew Marc well enough to know that he was hellbent on digging his own grave. And, to judge by the stricken look on Meg’s face as he bowed and left her, he was doing a first-class job.

Casually he strolled out and greeted Meg. ‘Come and have a glass of champagne, Lady Rutherford. You cannot possibly spend the evening chatting to your cousin and husband!’

He winced again as Meg turned to him and treated him to a brilliant smile. It was as though the hurt child had never existed.

‘How kind of you, Mr Hamilton,’ said Lady Rutherford. ‘I’m dreadfully thirsty. Such a squeeze!’

It was dark…a myriad of greedy hands grasped at her breasts, her thighs…smearing a filthy slime over her…a hard, lustful mouth was forcing itself on hers…smothering her screams…choking her…

Meg awakened, sobbing and sweating in her terror. The fire was nearly out, but it cast enough light for her to avoid the furniture as she unthinkingly headed for the safety and reassurance of Marc’s room. Despite the
coldness between them, she did not think he would deny her the security of his arms.

She stumbled around the edge of the dark bathroom and found the door, groping for the latch. Unhesitatingly she headed for the bed, still shaking with fear as she scrambled in, reaching for Marc.

It took her a moment to realise that the enormous bed was empty, that Marc was not there. At first she could not think. Shock held her in its grip. And then the implications of his absence burst upon her like an exploding shell. He had gone out to seek consolation elsewhere as he had told her he would do. She lay there in his cold, empty bed and wept as though her heart would break until she slept again.

Coming up to bed half an hour later, slightly befuddled from all the brandy he had consumed in his library since he brought Meg home, Marcus stared in amazement at the sight of Meg in his bed. What the devil was she doing there? He cursed the brandy. Better go back downstairs. He was damned if he was going to get into bed with his wife in this disgraceful state! Be an insult to the poor girl.

Accordingly he wandered back downstairs and stretched out on the library sofa where he finally fell into an uncomfortable slumber.

Awakening from another nightmare in the early dawn, Meg found that she was still alone in her husband’s bed and crept back to her own room. Bitter despair held her in its grip. She had driven Marc away and had no idea how to call him back without betraying her love for him. She eventually drifted into an uneasy sleep.

When she finally arose, not in the least refreshed,
Meg dressed herself in her prettiest morning gown and pinched her cheeks to force some colour into them. Lady Rutherford must not show the world a pale face if she were to protect Meg. Resolutely Meg left her chamber in the forlorn hope that breakfast would be of assistance in maintaining her façade.

By the end of her solitary breakfast she had made several decisions. Firstly, she must go to Marc and somehow let him know that she had not meant to refuse him her bed, that she had been feeling unwell, which had the merit of being at least partly true. Secondly, she had to tell him about Winterbourne. Ask him what she should do when she met him, and tell him about her nightmare. She felt cold at the thought of confiding so much to anyone but surely, surely to her own husband…

Accordingly she asked Delafield to inform her when his lordship was up and about and repaired to the drawing room to read. She had not been there more than an hour when the door opened and Marcus came in. He was his usual immaculate self, if a little pale, in buff breeches and a dark blue coat. His riding boots were polished to a shine which made Meg blink a little as she absorbed their splendour.

‘Delafield mentioned that you wished to see me, madam.’ He was feeling distinctly scratchy this morning. He had a stiff neck from the night on the sofa and a devilish head from all the brandy. If Meg were about to reproach him for his absence last night, he would have something to say about undutiful wives! He had absolutely no intention of confessing that he had spent the night on the library sofa since he had been far too under the weather to share a bed with her. Especially
since the reason for his condition had been his frustration over her.

In the face of his formality, Meg completely lost sight of the course she had charted for herself and started in the middle. ‘Y…yes. Did you know that Sir Blaise Winterbourne was there last night?’ she asked, keeping her voice as steady as possible.

Marcus softened slightly, his tone gentler. ‘I did know it. I should have warned you. He is everywhere received. Since I had not told Di anything, I could not strike his name from the guest list. It will be impossible to avoid him, I am afraid, but since he is not a friend of mine, you need not fear that I would expect you to receive him.’

Meg nodded. ‘I see.’

She seemed collected enough, thought Marcus. He reverted to his former tone. ‘Is that all you wished to speak to me about?’

She flinched inwardly. Could he just dismiss it like that? She felt cold and sick, as though the nightmare still rode her.

‘No, my lord.’ She drew a deep breath and again started in the wrong place. ‘I…I came to find you last night—’

He interrupted at once. ‘Might I remind you, or perhaps I should say, inform you, that it is a husband’s right and privilege to indicate when he wishes to have congress with his wife.’

She stared up at him, stricken into silence and he went on coldly. ‘You, of course, have the right of veto.’
Which you have exercised.
The words hung unspoken between them. His final comment set the seal on his fate. ‘I would suggest, Lady Rutherford, that you adhere to this convention. You will thus be spared the humil
iation of knowing that you are not the only desirable female in London. Our bargain, you may remember.’

Meg wondered if she were going to be sick. She had meant nothing to him, then. He cared as little for her as Cousin Euphemia had done, had dismissed her just as coldly. All his kindness and tenderness had been nothing more than a ploy to get her into his bed willingly. And even that had probably been to expedite the begetting of an heir. No doubt he found the more experienced Lady Hartleigh far more to his taste. Well, she was welcome to him! Lady Rutherford could stand alone!

‘I beg your pardon, my lord,’ said Lady Rutherford sweetly. ‘You have made your position perfectly clear, for which I thank you. I shall endeavour to keep to my side of our bargain.’ Bitterly hurt, she searched for the worst thing she could possibly think of to say to him. And found it with disastrous ease. ‘You need not fear that I shall again refuse to do my duty. I am perfectly aware that my
right of veto
as you term it, is one that not many husbands would allow me. I would not like you to think that I am ungrateful, or taking advantage of your chivalrous nature.’

She rose gracefully and left the room with her head held high, praying that she would make it safely to her bedchamber before the scalding sensation behind her eyes became a torrent of tears. She had been a fool to think that it would be possible to confide in him, ask for his help. He had made his attitude quite plain. She was nothing to him, less than nothing, and it was as well to know it now, before her foolish heart imagined otherwise.

Marcus stood and watched her go, absolutely
stunned. Was that how she had seen it? Duty? Nothing more? Damn her! She was as cold-hearted and mercenary as any other woman and it was as well to know it now!

O
ver the next month Meg hurled herself into the social gaiety of London. She attended Almack’s, danced the night away at innumerable private balls, attended the opera, collected a court of devoted admirers and succeeded in persuading her husband that he had indeed made a marriage of convenience.

She made innumerable friends, mostly through Diana’s introductions. She found that the people Di presented to her as her own personal friends were kindly, unpretentious and delighted to welcome her to their circles for her own sake.

The same could not be said of her Cousin Henrietta. Meg had no doubt that, had she married a man of lesser consequence, Henrietta would have refused to acknowledge her and would have ensured that Cousin Delian did the same. She actually found herself feeling sorry for Sir Delian. It was plain that he was ruled by his wife and that, left to his own devices, he would not have thought to turn his orphaned little cousin out of her home.

He had tried to explain and apologise to her one morning in the park when he had taken her driving. The
morass of half-sentences, as he attempted to tell Meg he had never meant to leave her destitute, without revealing his wife’s ascendancy, was utterly pathetic.

In the end she stopped him gently. ‘Cousin, there is no need for all this. You acted as you thought best. No one can do otherwise.’

Sir Delian Fellowes swallowed hard. That was exactly the problem. He had
not
acted as he thought best. He never did if Henrietta disagreed. And now he felt guilty, ashamed of his cowardice. Especially since Meg seemed disposed to forgive what had been done to her and include them in her circle of friends despite the obvious disapproval of her husband.

He tugged at his neckcloth with one hand. ‘You are very kind my dear. It…it is more than—’

‘Oh, fustian!’ said Meg cheerfully. ‘I sent Cousin Henrietta a card inviting you and Sophia to join us for dinner and then go on to the opera next week. It is to be my first visit! Do say you will come! I am so looking forward to it. Lady Diana and Sir Toby are to come, as well as Mr Hamilton!’

‘Jack Hamilton?’ asked Sir Delian, suddenly intent.

‘Why, yes.’ Meg was a trifle surprised over his evident approbation.

‘Henrietta will be most obliged,’ said Sir Delian delightedly.

‘Obliged?’

Sir Delian explained. ‘You see, she has been trying for ever to introduce Sophia to his notice.’

‘Oh,’ said Meg hollowly. This was something she hadn’t thought of. She had pondered over whom to invite. To keep the numbers even a single gentleman had been required. Jack Hamilton was the only one she could think of and she hoped devoutly that he would
not think she was attempting to match him with Miss Sophia Fellowes. As far as Meg could see, Sophia was not so very much changed from the arrogant little girl she remembered.

‘Yes, indeed,’ continued Sir Delian. ‘I think I may safely say that we shall all three be delighted to accept your kind invitation, my dear.’

‘How…how lovely,’ achieved Meg, thinking that the opera had better be good if she were to enjoy what promised to be an unexpectedly embarrassing evening. If Sophia made an obvious play to engage Jack’s interest, Marcus would be utterly furious, she thought miserably. She was perfectly aware that he disliked her cousins, and scorned Sir Delian.

She was still worrying when Jack Hamilton approached the phaeton and hailed them.

‘Good afternoon, Lady Rutherford. Sir Delian, your most obedient!’ He smiled up at them lazily. ‘I’m going to steal your fair companion, Sir Delian. Will you walk with me, Lady Rutherford?’

She glanced hesitantly at Sir Delian, not wanting him to think she wished to quit his company, but in truth she found it difficult to think of what to say in the face of his overwhelming guilt.

Sir Delian, however, was perfectly ready to oblige a man whom he definitely did not wish to antagonise. ‘A theft indeed, Hamilton! But I shall forgive you and look forward to seeing you at my cousin’s little opera party next week. Lady Fellowes and I shall be pleased to present our little Sophia to you.’

Meg suppressed a curse with difficulty as she caught Jack’s glance, brimming with laughter.

He helped her down, saying, ‘The pleasure will be all mine. Good afternoon.’

Meg met his eyes ruefully as Sir Delian gave his pair the office and said, ‘Oh, Jack, I mean, Mr Hamilton, I am most dreadfully sorry!’

‘Jack will do very nicely,’ he said laughing. ‘And as for the rest, don’t give it a thought. ‘Tis an inevitable part of being an eligible bachelor. Just ask Marc, he can tell you all about it.’

‘I did
not
mean to expose you to that!’ said Meg indignantly, ignoring the reference to her husband’s erstwhile status as society’s most sought-after
parti
.

‘I never thought you did,’ replied Jack with a chuckle. ‘Tell me, how is Marc? I thought he was a little out of sorts when last I saw him.’

Meg hesitated. She hadn’t actually seen Marcus for three days. Well, not to speak to, at all events. She had seen him at a ball the previous evening. He had greeted her politely and then gone on his way. He had next been seen dancing with Lady Hartleigh. A casual inquiry an hour or so later had elicited the information that he had taken his leave early. As had Lady Hartleigh.

Aware that Jack was watching her closely, she said unconcernedly, ‘Oh, Marcus is well enough, I believe. He is always very busy.’ Adroitly she changed the subject. ‘I am so glad you are to come to the opera with us. I shall be able to ask you all sorts of questions.’ Determinedly she kept the conversation focused on opera until Jack had escorted her home.

Jack was deep in thought as he left Meg. He’d noted her slim fingers clutching the dainty pink reticule and the slight firming of her lips, the gallant tilt of the chin as she lied to him. He’d had the impression that Marc was not spending much time in his countess’s company. What he hadn’t been sure of was how the countess felt
about it. He had his answer. And there was not a damn thing he could do about it, except extend a hand of chivalrous friendship to her.

A slight smile curved his lips. That, of course, might be enough to bring Marc to his senses! If he thought his best friend was after his wife…Jack felt a twinge of unholy amusement at the prospect of Marc’s outrage. The only difficulty would be how to mislead Marc without Meg, or indeed anyone else, getting the wrong idea—Meg especially. Marcus might have offered his bride a
carte blanche
to conduct discreet
affaires,
but Jack was morally certain she would never do so and would shrink from such a thing, and anyone who suggested it, in horror.

This little expedition to the opera should serve his turn very nicely. He spared a moment’s compunction for the false hopes he was going to raise in Miss Fellowes’s breast and in the more ample bosom of her mama. Oh, well! There must be some casualties in a war.

Just as Meg had feared, her first appearance at the opera was not an unalloyed pleasure. To begin with, it was plain that Marcus viewed the inclusion of the Fellowes with extreme disapprobation. It was not that he was rude to them or even inattentive. Quite the opposite. He was extremely polite. Nothing could have exceeded his civility to Sir Delian and Lady Fellowes, or to Miss Fellowes. But it was such a contrast to the easy, unceremonious manners he used towards his sister, Sir Toby and Jack Hamilton, that Meg wanted to throw something at him. Especially since he was equally polite to her!

To her immense surprise, it seemed that Jack
Hamilton was quite taken with Miss Fellowes. He certainly spent a great deal of time flirting with her in the most unexceptionable way. Meg began to feel rather nervous since it was plain that Marcus was viewing this with a rather jaundiced eye.

He took advantage of an appallingly long and dull anecdote related by Lady Fellowes to draw Meg aside and say, ‘If you are attempting to fulfil your cousins’ hopes by introducing Miss Fellowes to an eligible bachelor, might I request that you leave my close friends off your list of victims?’

For a moment anger blazed in those expressive eyes, but she dropped her lids swiftly to veil her fury. ‘Oh? Do you not think Mr Hamilton can take care of himself? It appears to me that he is very well pleased with his company.’ Her tone was light and unconcerned and her eyes, when she raised them to Marcus’s face, betokened only innocent inquiry.

Marcus’s temper slipped its leash somewhat. ‘That’s because he’s too damned polite to appear anything else!’

Meg seemed to consider this for a moment. ‘Really? What a pity it isn’t catching. Do excuse me, my lord. I must attend to our guests.’ She favoured Marcus with a glittering smile, calculated to make him want to wring her neck, and went to speak with her cousin Sophia. How dare he! To think that she would hatch vulgar, hateful schemes like that! He ought to know her better! Meg conveniently ignored the fact that she had been doing her level best to ensure that Marcus did not know her, that of late weeks he had seen only Lady Rutherford.

There was a snap in her step as she approached her
cousin and Jack Hamilton, her flushed cheeks and over-bright eyes a clear sign of temper.

Jack looked up at her approach with an encouraging smile that insensibly soothed her ruffled emotions. ‘Ah, Meg. Come and add your voice to mine. I am trying to persuade Miss Fellowes to walk in the park with me one day. Perhaps you would care to join us as her chaperon?’ His eyes quizzed Meg mischievously.

‘A chaperon? Me?’ Meg chuckled. ‘What do I have to do?’

‘Oh, just walk with us. Lose yourself at a prearranged signal. Feign deafness, blindness and generally act as though you aren’t there!’

Miss Fellowes simpered in a sickening way, batting her lashes at Jack’s outrageous parody of the duties of a chaperon. ‘Dear Mr Hamilton, you are the most dreadful flirt!’

‘Am I?’ A tone of surprise crept into his voice. ‘Good God! I thought I was doing quite well. It just shows how you can be mistaken! Meg, my sweet, I shall have to practise on you.’

This casual endearment smote on Marcus with stunning effect. He couldn’t quite believe his ears. That Jack Hamilton of all men should be flirting with the Countess of Rutherford stunned him. He turned slightly to see how Meg had reacted and nearly choked on his Madeira. She had laid her hand on Jack’s arm and was laughing up at him in the most natural, unaffected way. As though she were used to such over-familiar endearments!

The emotions that ripped through Marcus were utterly overwhelming. The urge to drag Meg away from Jack forcibly blazed in his heart. A remark from Lady
Fellowes, who was claiming his attention, recalled him to his surroundings.

‘Dear Sophia is enjoying herself so much, Lord Rutherford. So kind of you to invite us. But then, we are family, are we not? You must give us the pleasure of entertaining you and dear little Meg very soon.’

Rutherford returned a civil, if automatic and uncommitted reply. Meg and Jack? Oh, surely not! Jack wouldn’t do a thing like that!
Would he?
And Meg? He couldn’t quite believe it. We had a bargain, he reminded himself. I told her she was free to seek love elsewhere, that I would not give it. That I didn’t want hers.

So why the hell was he feeling as though he wanted to give Jack a leveller and wring Meg’s elegant creamy throat? At the thought of touching Meg’s throat a surge of pure desire roared through him. His fingers tingled at the memory of the soft skin, that deliciously skittering pulse that throbbed below her ear. With an internal curse he tore his mind away from the primitive and wholly discreditable visions it was conjuring up.

‘Such a charming gentleman,’ Lady Fellowes was saying. ‘So much address. I vow he is quite a favourite of mine.’

Marcus smiled rigidly. Address? Jack? Too bloody much for his money! About the only thing he wanted to address to Jack right now was a cartel of war.

At this inopportune moment Delafield announced dinner and Marcus practically ground his teeth in rage as he watched his best friend take his bride into dinner. Which was all perfectly acceptable and above board, of course; if only Meg hadn’t looked at him so glowingly, hadn’t seemed so utterly content in his company.

It was probably just as well that the length of the table made it impossible for Lord Rutherford to hear
much of the laughing conversation which flourished between Mr Hamilton, Miss Fellowes and Lady Rutherford. To judge by Lady Rutherford’s laughing eyes and sparkling smile, not to mention Miss Fellowes’s rather frequent recourse to her ivory brise fan, it was excessively entertaining to both of them.

Unavailingly Marcus told himself that Jack would never serve him such a turn. That he was flirting with Meg to cover his attentions to Miss Fellowes. But why on earth would he bother flirting with Miss Fellowes? She was just the sort of arch, simpering, society virgin that Jack detested. Which left the unwelcome possibility that Miss Fellowes, not Meg, was the stalking horse.

By the time they left for the King’s Theatre his temper was in a lamentable state. They went in two carriages and somehow Jack had managed to arrange it so that he went in one with Meg, Di and Miss Fellowes, while Marcus ended up with Sir Toby, Sir Delian and Lady Fellowes. Upon their arrival in the Haymarket it was perfectly plain to any observer that Lady Rutherford was entirely happy with her escort.

Marcus drew a deep breath as he politely offered his arm to escort Miss Fellowes to the box he rented. He had made a bargain with Meg. If she chose to act according to the terms he had set, then he would have to accept it. No matter how much it hurt. But Jack? Surely it was just flirtation!

As they entered the box Meg gazed about in wonder. The theatre was full. The boxes reserved for the wealthy shimmered and glittered with silks, satins and jewels. Below in the pit the less well-off milled about, awaiting the rise of the curtain.

‘Goodness,’ exclaimed Lady Fellowes, peering across
the theatre. ‘There is my cousin Winterbourne! Now who is he with? Oh, yes! That’s Lady Hartleigh’s box. Hmmph! It’s a mystery to me how that woman contrives on her jointure. That box must have cost above five hundred pounds!’