The Marquis At Midnight (13 page)

Hester came into the room, carefully
shutting the door behind her. She cast an almost wondering look at
Grace, who could not quite meet her eyes.

‘Tea, Hester?’

‘If you please.’

Morvyn waited until Hester was seated before
resuming his own. Unable to help herself, Grace’s eyes flickered
towards him and for a moment their glances met and held. What she
saw there made the color come rushing back to her cheeks once more.
Hastily, she dropped her eyes.

‘What time do you plan on leaving for the
ball tonight,’ Morvyn enquired, picking up his cup and sipping
what, by now, Grace assumed was tepid China black.

‘I am not sure,’ Hester was clearly
recovering her wits. If Morvyn was going to act as if nothing
untoward had happened, then it was good manners that she do the
same. Under the circumstances, there didn’t seem to be a lot she
could say, anyway. ‘Would you care to join us for dinner
first?’

‘Thank you. For six?’

‘Indeed. It is very obliging of you to
escort us, my lord.’

Grace, sipping her own
rapidly cooling tea, felt hysteria bubble just below the surface of
her careful social mask. A few minutes before she had been in
Morvyn’s arms while he made decidedly expert love to her and she’d
hovered on the brink of mindless ecstasy. It had been almost
criminal
the way he had
made her feel; weak kneed, inflamed, lost to everything but his
touch.

And now they were making social
chitchat.

The whole thing seemed entirely mad.

To make matters worse,
despite the shock of discovery and the quite reprehensible manner
in which she had behaved, Grace still found herself wanting him.
The delicious touch of his hands, the hard length of his body when
it was pressed against her own… She wanted
all
of him in the most scandalous way
possible. It was odd, but up until she had met Morvyn, she had
never quite realized what a complete hoyden she was.

The marquis stayed – quite deliberately, in
Grace’s opinion – for another ten minutes before taking his leave,
both ladies watching in silence as he left the room. They did not
speak a word until Morvyn had collected his hat and coat and they
heard the front door close.

Then Hester turned and
stared at Grace as if she had gone mad. ‘You were
kissing
him!’

‘I was
not
kissing him.’ She had not been
kissing him. He had been seducing her where she stood, but at the
moment of discovery Grace was perfectly sure that they had not been
kissing.

‘Well he was certainly doing something to
you.’ Hester returned tartly. ‘Grace Pemberton, what has been going
on? I thought you detested the man?’

‘I
did
. I do. I… Oh, I do not know what
I feel anymore! I had assumed that he was a villain. Indeed, I have
thought of Morvyn as nothing but for the past eighteen months, but
I might have been wrong about that.’ Grace sat down again, rather
heavily. She might very well have been wrong about that. The
knowledge left an uneasy hole where her previous assurance had
been.

‘If I had not come into the room,’ Hester
said quietly, ‘you might, at this moment, be on that sofa with him
doing… doing heaven knows what. Because when I walked in the room
-’

‘Don’t!’ Grace shuddered. ‘Do not speak of
it.’

There was a pause. Then,
impossibly, Grace heard her friend giggle. ‘Come up to London, I
said. Re-enter society and have some fun. That was
not
quite what I meant,
but, oh Grace, you did appear to be having fun.’

Grace groaned. ‘I might very well be going
mad.’

‘Yes, but I’ve always thought Morvyn a
remarkably find looking man. Steady, reliable,’ Hester’s voice
quivered with mirth once again, ‘and now it seems that he has
talents in other areas. Who knew he had such unexpected
depths?’

Despite being genuinely appalled by her own
actions, Grace found that her lips were twitching because, truly,
Hester had a point. The Marquis of Morvyn appeared as the epitome
of thoughtful gravity, everything considered, almost relentless in
his calm, measured outlook.

Well there was certainly
nothing calm or considered about him when he was kissing me.
On the contrary, she had felt his arousal all to
clearly. It had served to inflame her all the more.

Jezebel!

‘I have no idea what happened,’ she
confessed with a sigh. ‘I have no idea how we came to be… I mean,
we were talking. He told me about Justin and...’ Grace broke off.
Justin.

Hester tilted her head enquiringly. ‘Yes? He
said something about Justin?’

So Grace told her. About Arceneau and how
her husband had unwittingly contributed to the death of so many
English soldiers. The whole thing came tumbling out because there
was no friend she trusted more than Hester, for all that she could
be bird-witted upon occasion, and she needed to speak of it and
share her hurt.

‘Oh Grace,’ Hester murmured. ‘I am so sorry
that both of you had to go through so much pain. People make
mistakes, trust the wrong people. We both know it. Poor Justin. He
trusted his cousin and then discovered the consequences. You could
not have done anything about it.’

‘He could not talk to me about it.’

‘In truth, I believe most men could not.
That his cousin could have done something like that. It must have
been such a shocking betrayal. It does rather make sense of his
accident. Most men of honor would have behaved in such a
manner.’

Grace knew it was true. She did. She just
didn’t know how to feel about it. And now Morvyn, the one man she
had felt secure in despising, had made love to her. She was almost
certain he had every intention of doing so again and she wouldn’t
do a thing to stop him.

Somehow, her world had turned itself upside
down.

‘Porter asked him to escort us tonight?’ she
said quietly.

Hester nodded. ‘Do you think that odd? Do
you think he is using Morvyn to spy on me?’

Grace rolled her eyes. ‘Of course not. He
genuinely feels that he has been far too preoccupied and he is
feeling bad about it. Morvyn is a good friend of his. It seems
perfectly natural to me that he would ask his friend to accompany
you.’

‘Us,’ Hester said wickedly. ‘He will be
accompanying us. Something that I am sure will make him very
happy.’

‘You are enjoying this, aren’t you?’

‘Seeing two people who have always been
pillars of restraint fall into each other’s arms? Perhaps just a
little bit, now that I am over the shock.’

‘I have no idea what came over me, but I
will be sure to behave with more propriety in my future meetings
with the marquis.’

‘If you are both in public, that might be an
excellent idea.’

Grace flushed. ‘I swear, if you say anything
while he is here...’

Hester leaned forward to pat her friend’s
hand soothingly. ‘I promise you, nothing but innuendo and sly
comments, uttered with extreme discretion, of course.’

‘You, Hester Woodward, are a very unpleasant
woman.’

‘Hard as it is to imagine, it has been said
before.’

Morvyn left the Woodward residence in a
state of semi-shock, so taken aback by what had happened with Grace
that he could barely make sense of his thoughts. He continued to
recall how she had felt in his arms; warm and pliant and infinitely
womanly. She had melted beneath his hands and he had… Well, he had
barely been able to reign himself in.

If Lady Woodward had not arrived…

Would he have stopped with nothing more than
caresses? It seemed doubtful, not when his body was crying out to
take her, to make her his, once and for all. Such primal urges were
so far beyond his usual temperament and behavior that he could only
think himself mad. Or obsessed.

Strangely, he had a suspicion that his
sister would thoroughly approve of the afternoons events. She would
consider it romantic or some such nonsense. Morvyn, on the other
hand, considered it an unlooked for upheaval in what was a
perfectly sensible life. He had no objection to wooing Grace
Pemberton, none at all. He just wished that he was capable of doing
so without losing control of his senses.

Whatever the reason behind this sudden
madness, Morvyn allowed himself to feel the happiness that must
come when finding a woman who could make a man forget the world,
with just one look.

Was it love? Walking briskly away from
Curzon Street, Morvyn strode forward without really seeing his
surroundings, caught up in introspection. What he felt for Grace
was love, of course it was, but it was a great deal more complex
than that. Grace aroused a tangle of emotions within him, each of
them bewildering and wonderful. Somehow, he had fallen in love with
her in a matter of days. It upended all of his preconceptions, the
belief he’d held for years that love only came with friendship and
familiarity. From this point on he would have to be the first to
admit that love was a force far greater than he had ever
anticipated. There was nothing mawkish or orange blossom about his
regard for Grace. What he was experiencing was far more profound
than that, this feeling that, after two and thirty years, he had
finally met the woman who would surely complete him.

And the most ironic thing was, he had never
even realized that her absence had left a hole within him until
this moment.

The thought that he would be seeing her
again in a matter of hours brought a smile to his lips. More than
that, it brought a quickening to his body that counseled speed in
this courtship for he wanted Grace more than was seemly. As pretty
as she had been in the pink dress that she had worn today, he hand
wanted nothing more than to be rid of it so that he could get to
the ripe, willing flesh beneath. His body stirred to life again,
stimulated by the thought, and he grimaced and thanked God he was
wearing a coat.

To divert his mind, he turned his thoughts
to the presence of Lovington in the Woodward household. Clearly
there was something happening with the man. Why had he been at the
Woodward house? What business could he possibly have there? Morvyn
had not cared for Grace’s heightened color when she had emerged
from the drawing room, nor the oily way the man had oozed up behind
her. The more Morvyn saw of him, the more he acknowledged that
Lovington was bad news. Certainly, his persistent presence in the
vicinity of Grace or Hester deserved attention. Porter had
certainly expressed an interest in the man’s activities. Should
Morvyn mention that Lovington was hovering around Curzon Street
and, more specifically, Hester Woodward? Lovington had an unsavory
reputation, especially when it came to the ladies. Perhaps not.
Morvyn had the impression that things had been tense between the
Woodward’s and he had no intention of causing trouble.

However, there was no reason why he should
not take an interest. Especially as Grace had now come into
Lovington’s orbit. The idea of Grace being made unhappy by anything
was vastly unpleasant. Soon, she would not have to worry about
having to deal with the likes of Lovington. When they were married,
such concerns would naturally fall away and at least Lady Morvyn
should be happy. He was finally getting married. She would be
getting the grandchildren she felt she so richly deserved.

Grace spent the rest of the afternoon
alternately wondering what on earth she was doing and longing for
the time to pass so she could see Morvyn again. It was a strange
feeling, somewhere between dread and desperate desire. As nervous
as the prospect of seeing the man who had almost seduced her in her
friend’s drawing room made her, Grace found herself counting the
minutes.

Dressed in a new gown of Pomona green French
silk, she barely recognized the face staring back at her from the
mirror as Lucy did her hair. She looked wide-eyed and excited.
Absurdly excited, like a green girl who was preparing to meet her
beau.

You are five and twenty years of age, Grace
Pemberton. You are far too mature to be feeling like this! Where is
your dignity? Your decorum?

That was a very good question. Perhaps she
would go looking for it after she had attended the forthcoming ball
in the company of the man who had the ability to reduce her to the
status of willing wanton with just a look.

The marquis arrived promptly and Grace let
her eyes devour him hungrily as he greeted Hester, dropping them
demurely when he turned to her.

‘Lady Pemberton,’ he murmured, not even
attempting to disguise the frank heat in his eyes as they moved
over her, lingering on her mouth.

She blushed. Naturally. ‘Lord Morvyn.’

Hester spoke, sounding amused. ‘Shall we
dine?’

Grace met Morvyn’s gray eyes and knew what
he was hungry for. It certainly wasn’t food. Hurriedly, she turned
and followed Hester towards the dining room.

Grace made the discovery, as they donned
their cloaks to leave an hour and a half later, that it was
difficult to concentrate on food when all one could concentrate was
on the man across the table. It certainly could not have been good
for the digestion, her constant inattention, but all she could
really focus on was Morvyn. Every move, every gesture. She was
unnaturally aware of everything he did.

It continued on in the carriage when the
marquis seemed to seize whatever chance he could to touch Grace. He
sat next to her in the carriage, his thigh only inches from her
own, and she did not know if the heat she felt from his body was
imaginary or real. Perhaps it was merely her own feverish
imagination or her equally feverish body.