The Temptation of a Gentleman (21 page)

“Please go, Noah.”

Her voice was only the shadow of the lively woman he’d come to care for so much. She took a gown from the closet and pulled it over the shift. When she reached around the back to fasten the buttons she let out a quiet grunt of frustration.

In a few steps, Noah crossed the room. With fingers deft from years of practice, he fastened the back of her gown, then turned her to face him. He searched her eyes for some sign of her reasons for tricking him. He found none.

“
Why
did you do this?”

Her eyes filled with tears, which she blinked away. “I’m short of time. Please, go. I’ll find a way to talk to you again, to explain-”

Noah opened his mouth to protest, but shut it again. He was too frustrated to deal with Marion’s explanations at present. “I can’t leave you with your father. He looked ready to kill, Marion.”

She shook her head in exasperation. “You’ll only make things worse if you stay. You don’t know him. He’ll bluster himself out. I can take care of myself.”

Uttering a curse, Noah stalked to the window and swung out on the ledge. He had been used and it made him feel things he’d never felt before. Helpless, foolish. Had he made others feel this way? He’d certainly manipulated his fair share of people, though his intent had never been unkind.

With a shake of his head, he began crawling down the tree trunk. When he hit the ground, he hurried to Phantom and rode. The wind on his face did nothing to cool his anger. How the hell had he let things go so far with Marion? And why had she felt so compelled to lie and entrap him?

He’d thought they were growing closer, but perhaps that was part of her lie, as well. From her reactions there was no doubt she desired him, but that wasn’t the same as trust. That wasn’t he same as…

He slowed his horse with a startling though he couldn’t help but voice. “Wasn’t the same as what… love?”

Ridiculous. He needed a drink. Probably several. Hell, the whole bottle. Tomorrow he’d go back to Toppleton Square and make the arrangements for Marion’s future. He’d buy her freedom and send her to her aunts. Once she was gone and safe from her father’s cruelty and Lucas’s crude attentions, he wouldn’t have those troublesome questions in his head. He could go back to London and the life he’d planned there without so much as a backwards glance.

***

Marion was shaking. Her hands were shaking, her shoulders were shaking, even her hair was shaking. No matter how confidently she’d told Noah she would be safe with her father, now that she stood in the doorway of the Green Salon looking at the man, she wasn’t sure her prediction would prove correct. She’d never seen Walter Hawthorne so angry.

Her father’s face, which was nearly always red, had darkened to a plum purple. His eyes flashed with an anger and hatred she’d never felt the full force of before. She’d had always known her father didn’t like her, but she’d never known he despised her until that moment.

“Come in and shut the door.”

The fury in his voice made her hesitate. Too afraid not to, she did as she was told. She edged over to a seat by the fire to wait for her father’s tirade to come. There was nothing she could say to explain herself. She didn’t want to explain herself. She wanted nothing more than for her father to disinherit her and allow her to escape to a happier life.

“Just like your mother.” He rose to his full height and shook his head as he poured himself what looked to be a second or third drink. “She ruined everything and now you have, too.”

Her anger moved to the surface at his accusation. “I’m not the one who sold my child. If you put yourself into a bad situation, you certainly used me in the worst way possible to get yourself out.”

Her father’s eyes narrowed. “What do you know about that, girl?”

“I heard you.” She jumped to her feet. “I heard you sell not just my hand in marriage to Lucas, but my body. Well, my body belongs to Noah Jordan now, and even I know that transaction cannot be made twice.”

Her father’s hand swung before she could react and smacked across her cheek, sending her sprawling to the floor. For a moment, Marion lay still in shock. Even through all the cold years between them, Walter Hawthorne had never struck her. He’d ignored her, yes. Screamed at her, yes. But never touched her.

Her face stung at his hard blow. Slowly, she eased up to a sitting position to peer up at him from the floor.

“Shut your mouth, you worthless child!” He downed his drink as if she were nothing more than a dog needing a disciplinary kick.

“I’m ruined, Papa.” Using the arm of the settee, she pulled herself back to her feet. “You can beat me all you like, but you cannot recapture what I’ve given away tonight.”

For a moment her father only glared at her, but then his face softened and he began to laugh. Marion winced at the hollow, humorless sound. It didn’t bode well.

“You stupid girl,” he said. “You think you’ve saved yourself from Josiah Lucas’s hands by giving that body of yours to another man?”

She remained silent. By God, she would keep her tongue and some shred of her dignity through this trial.

“Well, you’re wrong.” He clapped his hands together. “Only three people in this world know what a moll you’ve made of yourself tonight. There’s me, and I’ll certainly not tell a soul. There’s Noah Jordan. Now that he’s had a taste of you, he’ll certainly not come back a second time. He admitted he collects virgins. He’ll probably be glad that you marry another and I don’t call him out.”

Her father crossed the room faster than she’d ever seen his heavy frame move. He lifted her up and backed her into the wall, knocking the breath from her lungs with the force of the push. “If you say one thing, you’ll join your rotting mother in the afterlife, do you understand me, girly?”

A tear slipped from Marion’s eye and rolled down her cheek before she could hold it back. She searched her father’s eyes for any affection, any love he might have once felt for her and saw nothing. No feeling. Nothing but anger. Hatred.

“Why? Why are you doing this?” she begged. “You’re my father, doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Nothing.” He let go of her arms, and she hit the floor with both feet and stumbled before catching herself on the edge of a table nearby. “I’ve raised you, I’ve supported you, and you
will
repay me now by fulfilling this bargain.”

“No!” She couldn’t find air, like she was drowning.

“In fact,” he continued, taking yet another drink. “Your little performance tonight has only earned you an accelerated destiny. When Lucas returns from his business, I’ll send him to you. Before the dawn, you’ll lay in that bed of yours and pretend to lose your maidenhead to him.”

He leaned down with a sneer. “It shouldn’t be hard to pretend, surely you remember how painful it was when Woodbury ran you through.”

She turned her face away from his putrid breath and lewd words. “I won’t do it. I won’t.”

With a bark of anger, he grabbed her by her tangled hair and dragged her from the room. Marion squealed at the rush of pain through her scalp as he pulled her up the stairs and down the hall. Once in her room, he let her go, but only to hit her again. This time the blow was with a closed fist that sent her careening toward her bed. She remained laying on the floor, too shocked and frightened to move for fear she’d provoke more of her father’s drunken, infuriated battering.

“Good night, daughter.”

He turned and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her. With horror, she heard him insert the key in the lock. She leapt to her feet and flew across the room, throwing herself against the door. But the lock was already bolted and she was trapped.

“No!” she screamed against the wooden barrier. “Please, Papa let me out! Don’t do this to me!”

Her only answer was her father’s footsteps fading farther and farther away down the hall. Marion slid to the floor in a pool, too shocked and in pain to cry or scream or even think.

Chapter Seventeen

How long had she been lying there? An hour? Two? Or perhaps only a few moments. Marion couldn’t say, but it seemed as if an eternity had passed since her father had bolted her into her room… her destiny.

With effort, she pulled herself to her feet and crossed to the mirror at her dressing table. Already her face was red from the two blows her father had dealt her. In an hour or two they would be nasty bruises, reminders of what had been said and done that night.

Tears collected in her eyes, but she blinked them back. She wouldn’t cry. The best thing she could do for herself now was get out and quickly. At any moment Josiah Lucas could barge through her door and all would be lost.

With deft movements, she put on her boots. As she pushed her hair back into a bun, she surveyed her options. The door was locked, there would be no escape that way this night. Her only other choice was the window. If Noah had come and gone that way, that meant she could do the same.

Noah. The thought of him made the pain in her heart even greater. He had been so furious when he left her bed, the anger in his eyes had made them a piercing blue that had stabbed into her soul. But even though he was furious, he would surely help her now if she went to him.

And there was nowhere else to go.

With a shiver, she pushed the window wide open and looked down. She was three dizzying floors above the hard ground below with not even a bush or hedge to break her fall. If she couldn’t manage to get down by way of the tree, she would probably kill herself in the process.

“What other choice do I have?” Staying and waiting for Lucas to return home and rape her seemed a fate worse than death.

With her head pounding from her father’s blows, she slung her foot on to the outside window ledge. It was much narrower than she’d estimated and it felt as if her foot could slip off at any moment. She gripped the shutters and yanked her other foot out.

“Don’t look down, Marion,” she whispered.

Focusing on the nearby tree limb, she shivered. Noah made this exercise look easy, even fun, but she could see now just how difficult it was. The limb was a good body length away from the ledge. She had no choice but to jump for it.

She fidgeted on the ledge, trying to get up the nerve to make the leap. It seemed almost impossible. She had almost decided to give up and go back inside when she thought of Josiah Lucas putting his hands on her, kissing her the way Noah had kissed her just hours before. Her determination returned threefold.

“One.” She let go of the shutter. “Two.” She measured the distance in her mind. “Three.”

Marion leapt and hit the tree limb with the entire length of her middle. The impact knocked the air out of her for a painful moment. She scrambled to get a hold on the surprisingly slippery branch and managed only after she’d torn three fingernails on her left hand.

With her fingertips stinging and her lungs burning, she somehow managed to pull her body up further on the branch. Finally, after several failed attempts, she was able to hook a leg over and found herself sitting precariously, looking down at the earth far below.

She was trembling as she inched her way toward the main trunk of the enormous tree. Though half her work was done, she still had to get to the ground, and the old trunk didn’t appear to have many foot or handholds.

She clawed at the trunk for a handhold first, digging her ravaged nails into the wood and hanging on for dear life. Then she dropped a foot down and began the frightening task of finding a place for her boot to rest. Inch by terrifying inch, she worked her way down the tree, pausing when the sweat on her brow dripped down her forehead and into her eyes. But she never stopped for long because at any moment her father or Lucas’s face could appear in the window above and all her plans would be dashed.

Halfway down, exhaustion began to set in. Her arms grew weak and trembled whenever she paused for a breath and her legs threatened to give.

“Just ten feet more, Marion.”

She heard the catch in her voice and hated the weakness that made her so afraid. Firming her right arm’s grip on a branch, she wiped her forehead and nose on the arm of her gown. She was long past behaving like a lady. Just as she was about to continue her flight, her foot slipped. With only one arm supporting her, her fingers lost their grip.

And she fell.

She scrambled to grab the tree, but couldn’t get a firm hold. With a twist, a grunt, and a painful crunch, she landed on her left side on the cool grass.