A Dangerous Man (26 page)

His eyes glittered dangerously in the low light.

She wasn't afraid, though. Even as her fingers went numb
and a stinging pain shot up her arm, she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. "I am going home now," she said
evenly. "If you so-much-as-touch one hair on his golden
head, I will carve out your philandering heart with your own
hunting knife!"

Philandering heart?

Richard rubbed his palm over his stinging cheek as he
watched his wife disappear around the side of the house. Her
words stabbed through the furious haze still clouding his
reason.

What had she meant by that? And why was she crying?

It made no sense when she was the one dallying with another man, her face buried against another man's neck.

Not just any man, but a man she had once thought to
marry, his hands moving circles over her back, his mouth
touching her ear as he murmured seduction.

Richard flexed his fists as he advanced on Alexander. His
muscles grew rigid. His skin tight. "Name your seconds"

"With pleasure," Alexander snarled, his too-handsome face
twisted in a ferocious scowl. Hands on hips, he squared his
shoulders as he glared at Richard. "I've wanted a chance at
you for weeks now. But Leah wanted you. She wants you,
still, though God knows you do not deserve that precious
gift"

No doubt the boy was right, but that mattered not. She was
his wife, and he'd be damned if he let another man touch her.
"And you believe you stand a chance against me?"

"I may be a few years younger than you, but let me reassure you, my lord Duke. I know my way around a brace of dueling pistols, and I am eager for the deed"

Richard couldn't believe he was planning to shoot a young
man, murder a young man, barely twenty-two. A vision of
Leah's anguished face, her expressive eyes glistening with
unshed tears rose up to haunt him. Her tortured voice echoed
through his mind. If you harm one hair on his golden head...

How would he ever tell her he'd murdered her best friend?

He rubbed his hands over his face. "She will never forgive
me"'

"Nor me," Alexander said, the torchlight playing over the
hard angles of his clenched jaw. "But I will take that chance.
She deserves better than you"

"No doubt you are right, but she is mine."

Alexander's lips curled in a vicious sneer. "She is a possession to you. Nothing more. You drag her around Town, then
throw her to the vultures and let them feast on her flesh!"

Richard narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean? If anyone
has so much as spoken an unkind word to her, they will
answer to me!"

"Unkind word? That is rich. Truly rich. Would that be the
case, she could defend herself, but the fancy have much more
subtle ways to inflict their wounds."

"What do you mean?" Richard ground out through his
teeth.

"They never say anything to her. They look right at herand right through her. She doesn't exist. Oh, they wait for you
to turn your back, of course. They cannot be honest in their
campaign against her."

The cut direct. Richard should have known. She hadn't
wanted to come here tonight, but she wouldn't tell him why.
She didn't want him to know how unhappy she was. The cold
taste of self-loathing burned like bitter bile in his throat.

"And of course," Alexander was saying, his voice scathing, his words more lethal than any dueling pistol with their cold
precision. "When all else fails, there are always the rumors.
But rumors only work if you follow her onto the terrace so
she overhears your lies."

Richard swore viciously. He walked to the balustrade, dug
his knuckles into the stone. "What are these rumors?"

"Hmm, there is the one about her buying you with her
money. No, you don't like that one? Let's try this one. She
was pregnant and her father dragged you to the altar with a
gun. But that might not damage her reputation enough, so
let's say she is having an affair with me. And if that doesn't
hurt her enough, let us inform her that her husband keeps a
ladybird. Oh, but that is just not bad enough, so let's add the
juicy tidbit that the husband and slut plot together against
her."

"Enough!" Richard said, holding up his hand. How could
he have been so blind not to have seen? So stupid, not to
have guessed? He knew only too well the cruelty of the ton.
Tension clawed at his gut, tightened his fists, clenched his
teeth. No one would hurt her again. "Who is responsible for
these lies?"

"This last tableau was played out by Lady Montague and
her friends, Lady Elliot, Lady Richmond and Lady Cunningham. Of course, they heard it from their lords."

"Lady Cunningham?" Richard could almost understand
the malice of the other three, but not Abby Cunningham.

"I will admit, Lady Cunningham was the only one to rise
to Leah's defense" Alexander's voice lost its biting edge. He
sucked in a deep breath, then pushed it out in an audible gust.
"You care about her, don't you?"

In the ballroom, the musicians struck up a lively country
dance. Richard shifted his gaze to the flambeaux lighting
the garden path, the glimmering gold flickering in the darkness reminding him of Leah's eyes, fury glistening with tears. "It seems I owe you an apology. You have been a good friend
to my wife while I have been blind-"

"Don't wait too long to tell her you love her," Alexander
said, the bleakness in his voice as cold as gale winds raging
across the Cornish coast. "I made that mistake, and I shall
regret it for the rest of my life."

Richard met the boy's gaze and saw a reflection of his own
lost youth, his own lost innocence. Prescott was struggling to
understand why the woman he loved had married another.
Through no fault of his own, the boy was suffering.

Any anger or jealousy Richard had felt paled beneath a
sudden, unwanted sympathy. He held out his hand. "For
Leah's sake, I would beg your pardon and ask for your friendship."

Alexander stared at Richard's outstretched hand for a long,
tense moment. Then he sighed, his shoulders sagged. He
looked like a man utterly beaten, but his grip was firm and
strong as he grasped Richard's hand. "What will you do about
this?"

"I have a few ideas. Care to lend your support?"

"Absolutely." Alexander grinned, then winced and grabbed
his chin. "You know, for a duke, you have a powerful punch"

Richard rubbed his cheek. "So does the duchess"

Alex laughed, though the shadows never left his eyes. "I
have never seen her quite so angry. I would not be surprised
if she threw a few more at you when you return home"

"Neither would I," Richard said with a grin. But his amusement quickly died, replaced by shame as he remembered his
reckless words and the outrage that had flashed in her tearstained eyes. He needed to find her, but first, he needed to
seek his revenge.

The two men entered the ballroom. With Alexander by his
side, Richard schooled his features into a controlled mask of
indifference, pushed a cold clarity into his gaze that belied the
brutal fury pulsing through his veins.

At his approach, Margaret stepped forward, her lips curved
in her most seductive smile. "Your Grace," she murmured.

Richard walked up to her, so close, his pumps touched her
satin slippers. He held her gaze long enough for all around
them to realize he was staring into her eyes, then he turned
his back to her without saying a word.

Everyone around them gasped, then an eerie silence swept
over the room as if four hundred people drew a single breath
and held it, straining to hear Richard's next words.

He ignored them all and raised Abby Cunningham's hand
to his lips. His smile was warm and familiar, as was the gleam
in his eyes. "As always, Lady Cunningham, the pleasure of
your company was the one bright spot in an otherwise dreadful evening."

With a slight lift of her brows and a nod of her head, she
returned his smile. "Your Grace. And my compliments to
your lovely wife."

He turned to the men. "My lords Elliot, Richmond, I am
forced to withdraw my support from your proposed steamship
manufactory." His voice was calm, his words clipped.

"What?" Lord Richmond blustered, his jowly cheeks flapping. "Without your support, there won't be a manufactory."

"Surely you realize steam-powered engines are the future
of shipping," Lord Elliot said, clutching his chest, pulling at
his cravat as if it were choking off his breath. "The Savannah
proved that two years ago when she crossed the Atlantic in
twenty-nine days. Think, St. Austin! This is the chance of a
lifetime!"

"Yes, it is," Richard said, the echo of his voice bouncing
off the walls. "More's the pity. Nevertheless, I cannot align
myself with two spineless toads who cannot control their
wives or their wagging tongues. Now, if you will excuse me,
my dear friend Prescott and I have more enjoyable entertainments to attend."

"What did he mean by that, Alice?" Lord Elliot hissed. "If
you have caused trouble for me with the duke .. ."

Richard smiled as he walked away. He'd let them suffer
through their present misery for a few days. Then he would
graciously offer to reconsider his decision, provided the men
brought their wives to heel and offered very loud, very public
support for Leah's position in society.

For the benefit of the gossipmongers, Richard laughed and
joked with Prescott as he stalked toward the door. Anyone observing the two men would have no doubt that they were boon
companions and any rumors of an assignation between the
boy and Leah would be denied.

How could it be true if Richard befriended him?

His smile died as he reached the pavement. Leah had taken
the carriage, so he sent a footman to hire a hack. He paced beneath the street lamps as he waited, all the while haunted by
Prescott's anguished words and his probing questions.

Do you love her?

Leah stomped across her room to the connecting door. She
grabbed the key and gave it a vicious twist.

Of all the nerve! To accuse her of dallying with another
man when all along he was the one who kept a mistress on the
side.

Pain gripped her chest until she could scarce draw breath.
Each tick of the mantel clock marked the tortuous beat of her
heart. She collapsed against the wall, crushed the heels of her
hands against her eyes, but she couldn't stop the vision of
Richard clutching Margaret in his arms, his mouth devouring
hers in a passionate kiss.

Now she understood the haunted look in Richard's eyes
following her injury and every time she'd questioned him
about how she had fallen. He had feared discovery, feared she
would remember his fondling and kissing another woman.

Oh, God. Her skin grew cold, even as fury burned in her
belly. She raised a shaking hand to her lips, felt his mouth
upon hers as surely as if he were kissing her now, the sultry
sweep of his tongue as he tasted and teased her, the crush of
his hands upon her breasts. The physical side of marriage was
so special, so intimate, so personal!

How could he give to another what should only be hers?

As if her thoughts weren't painful enough, her mind's eye
tortured her with images of Margaret in bed with Richard,
stroking her hands over his naked body, clinging to his powerful hips, swallowing his groan as he shuddered his release.

Never had she imagined he would be unfaithful to her. She
had never even considered it. How could she have been so
stupid? So naive? She had thought he was beginning to care
for her, but she was wrong. She was no more to him than a
body in the night!

Well, she would see about that. She was his wife. He was
hers. And she was not going to share him with anyone.

His chamber door crashed open and she jumped. Her heart
pounded as she listened to his footsteps stomp across his room.

The handle on the connecting door jiggled. Then he
pounded on the wood. "Leah, I want to talk to you"

She did not reply. She thought perhaps she should wait
until morning when she might be calmer, slightly more rational.

Or perhaps he was right. Perhaps it was better to face his
treachery now while she had anger to sustain her.

She twisted the key, ripped open the door, then paced to the
far wall, putting the length of the room between them. She
couldn't bear the thought of his hands upon her, not after they
had touched another. But he would not let her retreat. He
strode toward her, sleek as a panther stalking his prey.

When she turned to run, he wrapped his arms around her
waist. She opened her mouth to argue, but he shifted her into
his left arm, covered her lips with his right hand.

"I know what you heard at the Elliots' tonight," he said, his
voice tender and low, his thumb stroking over her cheek, his
eyes as impenetrable as the midnight sky. "And I am heartily
sorry. I have been stupid. Blind in my arrogance. I thought
simply because you are my wife, you would receive the respect you deserve. I should have known better. Polite society.
The word is a joke. But I've put a stop to the rumors"

She breathed his scent of jasmine and amber and a stabbing pain sliced through her gut. Did Margaret enjoy the
scent of his cologne as much as Leah did? Did he kiss her hair
and stroke her skin, whisper seductive words in her ear?

"I know the truth," she said, her voice quivering. "I know
about you and Lady Montague"

"Leah, I cannot change the past"

Her weakness made her furious. Desperate to escape, she
clawed at his hands. "I saw you together. The night of my
injury. I saw you. Holding her. Kissing her!"

"It is not what you think." He turned her in his embrace,
forced her to meet his gaze. "Leah, I understand your anger,
but you are wrong. Margaret is not my mistress."

"I saw you together, at Lady Cunningham's ball."