Billionaire Romance: MAXIMILIAN (An Alpha Bad Boy Contemporary Mystery Romance) (Mysterious Billionaires Book 3, Anthologies & Collections) (80 page)

Stanbury Manor courtyard,

Later that evening

He is so handsome,
Lillian thought as she observed her betrothed while they paced along the courtyard. The scenery was breathtaking, but he was even more so.
If only he wasn’t sloshed.
She was still deeply conflicted about him, but at least she was not back with their families.

“And how does my fine lady find our humblest of abodes?” He stirred her from her line of thought. She hadn’t realized how obviously she was staring at him.

“It is… it is beyond anything I thought possible, to be frank,” she said, hypnotized by the way his lips moved while he talked.

“I like to throw the occasional party there from time to time. Wild things; I think you will like them. Plenty of people. Lots of shouting, drinking, and everything else you can think of!” He grinned. It was amazing how verbose he was, given the amount of liquor she could smell on him.

“Ahem, future Lord Stanbury, might I ask you a personal question?” She didn’t like what he was implying, so she decided to give him a piece of her mind. If he doesn’t like it, then so be it.
No husband of mine is going to be a scoundrel.

“Not at all,” he answered.

“Despite our name, our family is poor. Now, please do not take this the wrong way, I think you are quite charming, but what could you or your father
possibly
see in a girl like me?” Her mouth smiled as she spoke, but her eyes did not.

He grinned as he voiced his reply. “An explosion of beauty and charm? A mixture of wit and class one seldom sees these days? Exceptional breeding? Take your pick, my dear. The list goes on.”

She stared into his eyes for a little bit more before she spoke again. “Wit? Class? Breeding? Maybe, if you come from one of the rookeries. When compared to the rest of the highborn, I am afraid I am as lowly as the most common of commoners.” She considered what she was about to say again.
I have to come clean. Then, maybe he will as well, and give me a way to understand why he is like this. If not, then at least I will rid myself of this farce of a betrothal.

“I am certain that you’ve already heard of this, but I will tell you regardless. It happened while I was but a babe. My father betrayed my mother’s love, with a married woman, no less. It came out in the open, and he could not handle the shame, so he hung himself.” She paused for a little bit, averted her eyes away from Martin, and kept talking whilst gazing at the moon. “Most of our assets were managed by my father, and we had to liquidate a good part of them after his death. The Ashdown family has been in decline ever since. I grew up with no servants; I did not even have governess or a nanny. My upbringing was wholly down to my mother.” She turned back toward him, expecting some kind of negative reaction.

For a few moments, Martin kept smiling. Then, seemingly out of the blue, his disposition became more serious, and he stopped walking like a drunken person. “And I think she did a marvelous job, Lillian.” He moved his hand toward her cheek, wiping at a tear she had not noticed she had produced.

Did I ruin my makeup? Mother will be furious…
She touched his hand again. So many conflicting feelings. His arm was stable. Highly unusual for a drunk man.
Unless he—

“I know what you are thinking, my dear, sweet Lillian. Indeed, I am not really drunk. Merely splashed with a healthy amount of liquor.” The smile was back on his face again, radiant and divine.

I knew it! But why would he have faked something like that?
Just as she was about to pose the question, one of the servants ran toward them accompanied by another, much larger man. Some more people trailed them, in visible distress.

I really need to have a talk to them about letting people in,
Martin thought, agitated that their conversation had been interrupted. He waited for the men to get closer, yet his gaze inevitably drifted back toward Lillian. Her rose-colored lips and alabaster face turned out to have an even greater effect on him then he expected.
Could it be that my father made the right choice for me? I really like her!

“My Lord! This military officer has demanded access to the estate on urgent business! I’ve tried to turn him down, yet he insisted!” the servant said, as the man behind him marched ever closer. Upon seeing his face, what little color Lillian had under her makeup disappeared completely, and she let out an involuntary gasp.

“Lillian! Do you know this man?” Martin couldn’t help but notice her reaction. Even though he didn’t want to, he had to turn toward the intruder.

“Indeed she does, you rotten scoundrel! You sad excuse for a man! I have been courting the Ashdown heiress here for months, and you snatch her away with but a wave of your foppish hand! And you, Lillian! To think that I thought you were a proper lady! I see now that you are nothing other than a common prostitute. I demand satisfaction, Stanbury, and I demand it now,” he shouted, his eyes red.

So, it seems that my reputation is known to this man, as well.
Martin was serious and composed, so unlike the way he’d appeared just a while ago. “We all want something, sir. That fact does not guarantee that we shall get it, now, does it?”

Instead of saying anything, the captain removed one of his gloves and tossed it at Martin. Not moving at all, the future Lord Stanbury let it hit on his face. “So, sabers at noon, I assume? The yard behind the old barracks on the Thames?” he asked, as if it did not matter at all.
It appears that all important events in my life begin with a challenge to a duel. It is only fitting that it ends with one.

“Sabers at noon, it is,” Captain Hawkins confirmed as he turned around to leave the estate.

Lillian wanted to ask him
why
. Just as she was getting to know her betrothed, just as he was showing some cracks in that unpleasant veneer, fate conspired to take him from her.
The captain is an experienced duelist, and Martin is a laid-back aristocrat.
There was not a chance for him to win. Her eyes teared up again.

Martin was silent too, yet his expression was one of determination.

Stanbury Manor

The next day, morning

Just what have I gotten myself into?

Martin observed the sky-blue shirt he was about to don. It was well worn, but still smart. Most importantly, it used to belong to his grandfather.
And now I am about to die and end his bloodline.
His father hadn’t even tried to prevent him from proceeding with the duel. If anything, he seemed proud. On the other hand, his mother had fallen ill again, this time apparently worse than usual. He took a deep breath and tucked the shirt in before he turned toward the mirror to observe himself. All of his clothing was of the finest blue, which further accentuated his eyes. “At least I will look presentable when I go to face him,” he said to himself, smiling insincerely.

He looked at his reflection a while longer until one of the servants knocked on the door, interrupting him. “What is it? I am busy!” he shouted in a displeased tone.

“It is your betrothed, young master. The future Lady Ashdown has come in person to see you. Shall I ask her to leave?”

Should I send her away?
He pondered on his next course of action. It was due to her honor that he was in this situation, yet he bore her no ill will.
I like her. I really like her. If things were different, I think I would have enjoyed settling down with her.
He could have laughed the entire thing off, used his reputation, and the entire thing would have rolled over.
But what of my betrothed’s reputation?
He just could not have forced himself into doing it.

“Bring her in,” he finally said, sneaking another peek at himself to make sure that he was presentable.
Flawless,
he concluded, wondering how long that would last.

By the time Lillian found her way to his room, he was sitting on his bed and wearing a sincere smile. The sincerity wasn’t due to his eagerness for the duel. He was simply glad to see her, even as distressed as she was.

“You deluded fool! What were you thinking?” she asked the very second she stepped in, not even waiting for the servant to close the door behind her.

“Why, I was thinking of your honor, milady. That man insulted you, and someone has to make it right. And who better to do that than your future husband?” he said, still smiling, albeit this time it was significantly less sincere.

“He is going to kill you, you know? Captain Hawkins is a trained soldier with combat experience. I wish you no insult, but you do not stand a chance. Please, Martin, give up this foolish notion and call off the duel,” Lillian said, still standing near the door.

“And is that supposed to intimidate me? There are worse things than dying in a duel, Lillian,” he said darkly.

“What could possibly be worse than having your life taken from you?”

He lowered his head, staring at the floor for a couple of long moments. When he raised it again, the smile was gone, and his eyes were full of sorrow. “It happened around three years ago. My best friend and I vied for the hand of a girl. I loved her more than anything else in the world, and it was not until I met you that I felt such attraction again.”

Lillian blushed just a little bit, and took an involuntary step forward.

“Eventually, my friend challenged me to a duel, and I foolishly accepted. On the morning the event was supposed to take place, I showed up. He did not. Instead, he had used the opportunity to seduce her in the most dishonorable fashion.” His mouth tightened, as did the muscles in his face. “They’ve betrayed me, the lot of them! And she did not even care about his complete lack of honor, Lillian! On that day I swore that I was to be nothing more than a scoundrel, and life became significantly easier. Then I met you, and things stopped being so simple.” He lowered his head again, staring into the floor.

The next thing he saw were the clothed ankles of his betrothed, standing in front of him.

“I do not care about honor in general, Martin, and I worry even less about mine. At the moment, all I care about is you, and that is the way it shall remain, forevermore,” she said as she touched the sides of his face with her palms, raising his head while she lowered herself on one knee. Then, in a slow and sensual manner, she kissed him on the mouth.

As if he was waiting just for that, Martin rose to his feet like a jack-in--box, and she felt that something
else
had risen as well when he pressed himself against her. They both continued kissing as they shared one long, sensual embrace. Then, Martin grabbed her by the waist, turned around, and threw her on the bed. With desire in his eyes, he ripped the silk from her corset, exposing the bare skin below.

“That… I liked that!” she moaned out in a barely audible manner.

“I will buy you a better one!” he exclaimed as he lowered his trousers, exposing his throbbing manhood for her to see. In a single motion he tore a hole in the middle of her pantaloons, and proceeded to enter her viciously.

The gasp that she let out was equal parts shock and pleasure. Pleased by her reaction, he grabbed her by her spilling breasts and pulled out ever so slightly, before he impaled her again. She squealed again, but the way she rolled her eyes backward told him not to stop. Having positioned himself more comfortably, he continued to repeat the motion. Lillian was slowly starting to enjoy the act, evident as she shamelessly lifted her legs and spread them apart—an act unbefitting a girl of her stature. However, that didn’t make it any less wondrous of a sight, any less than the way she bit the side of her index finger.

Feeling his blood boil, Martin went over to ravage her with new fervency as the fire between both of them expanded through their bodies.

“I…I —oh, my Looord!” she screamed in ecstasy while her body contracted, and her legs slowly started descending. Martin did not say anything. His mind was long gone.

The old barracks

Noon

The crowd was getting restless. Men of power, men of influence, all there to witness the heir of House Stanbury getting murdered in cold blood, and putting up a good show.

Even the Lord Stanbury was there, Martin observed, his expression not betraying a hint of regret or remorse. They were all waiting for Martin to arrive, that much he could see even from the coach’s window. He had insisted on travelling apart from his father, so as to avoid the unpleasant conversation that would have inevitably ensued.
It is better this way
.

With a rumble, the carriage arrived at its destination, and a veritable horde of men swiftly surrounded it to escort the young man to the exact spot of the duel. In anticipation, he looked toward it even before he disembarked. Captain Hawkins was there, ready, willing and able, for the show to begin.

I am not going to disappoint him.
Martin walked down the coach steps and the crowd spread to let him pass. He breathed in, snapped his fingers, and pressed forward.
And the lot of you, I will give you all something to remember!

As he made his way toward what everyone expected to be the place of his death, Martin took a slow, deliberate look around. Everyone stared at him as if he was a fool.
Perhaps I am.
Yet, they were slaves, the lot of them. They were born as slaves, and they would die as slaves, beholden to a system of values they merely aped as opposed to understood.
Unlike them, I have lived freely all this time.

He was six feet away from his opponent now. A second approached him, offering him a choice between several blades. He allowed his gaze to fall on each of them, inspecting them with a bemused expression. Then, as if he were starting over, he ran his hand over all of them once more. He gave Captain Hawkins a quick scan with the side of his eye. Unlike him, the officer had few qualms about which weapon he was about to use, and the saber was already in his hand.

“Are you going to pick a weapon, or are you going to continue prolonging your life in this shameful manner?” the captain asked him, having apparently noticed the way Martin looked at him.

Now is the time,
Martin concluded. For a moment, it appeared as if he had picked his weapon: a long blade with only a slight curve. He held it in his right hand, clenched his fingers, and gave his opponent a stern gaze. Then, out of the blue, he gave it back to the second.

“Just what are you doing, silly boy? Have you no mind at all? You have to choose your weapon!” The captain spoke through his teeth, his anger apparent.

“But, I have already chosen my weapon,” Martin said as he stepped away from his second and toward the captain. Very slowly, and careful so as not to provoke is opponent with any sudden movements, he kept getting closer one step at a time.

“Just what are you talking about, Stanbury? You’ve left your blade by your second. Go back, retrieve it, and let us do this like men!” The crowd was getting unpleasant as well, and Martin could feel everyone’s stares on his skin. He was well used to playing the part of a scoundrel, but this was something else entirely, and he did not feel all that comfortable doing it.
But it has to be done. For her.

“But I don’t need a blade to best you, captain. In fact, all I need is this cloth right here!” he exclaimed as he pulled a silky, skin-colored piece of fabric from his sleeve, all in a non-threatening manner. Something appeared off about it, and it did not seem all that clean, but the captain could not tell from that distance.

“What is that?”

“I could tell you, my dear Captain, but I think you might want to see for yourself,” Martin said as he slowly threw the item toward his opponent. As expected, he caught it effortlessly.

“And how exactly is this going to—“ Captain Hawkins stared at what he held in his left hand, his eyes wide in disbelief. A mere moment later, he started foaming at the mouth, let out a horrendous, beastly sound, and attempted to stab Martin with his sword. Luckily, the seconds were quick enough to grab him by the shoulders and subdue him before he managed to draw any blood. “You pathetic, grotesque, twisted son of a no-good whore! How dare you do something like this? I will have your head, Stanbury! Do you hear me? Your head!” he screamed as the seconds dragged him away.

Smiling, Martin approached the piece of cloth, grabbed it with his right hand, and took a quick look at it, despite knowing full well what it was.
Whoever thought a bloody piece of Lillian’s ripped pantaloons would save my life?
he asked himself as he pocketed the fabric before anyone else could see it for what it was.

“You worthless, disgusting piece of human filth! You can’t even fight me as a man! Goddamn you, your children, and your children’s children! To the depths of hell with the whole of Stanbury line!” The captain refused to stop spouting insults and kept struggling so much that two guards had to come from the side and help with the restraining.

“If he does not calm down soon, I am afraid the duel will have to be cancelled. We are gentlemen, not beasts,” said the referee from the side.

Martin looked at the captain again: he was in an absolute frenzy.
He will not be calming down within the foreseeable future,
he thought as a wicked grin snuck onto his face.
Just a little bit more, and I can come back to Lillian.
Content, he turned back toward the referee, put on the most honest face he could, and spoke. “I will be waiting for a bit more, sir, but I am afraid that I do not have all day.”

As if every word was a strike against his exposed hide, the captain shouted again. “I spit on your manhood, boy! The Stanbury house truly has no honor!” He struggled once more, but the men’s hold on him was simply too firm.

Stylishly, knowing that everyone’s eyes were fixed on him, Martin took on a dramatic pose and donned his smile again. “What did you expect? After all, I
am
a rogue!”

The captain howled like an enraged animal again, unable to contain his fury.

THE END