Wicked Angel (32 page)

It seemed to satisfy Marlaine; she floated to his desk, chattering eagerly as to what she should put in the note, then lightheartedly ticking off the myriad things she needed to do before the wedding. Alex resumed his seat on the couch, listening to the almost childlike way she spoke. He was fond of Marlaine; there was no question in his mind as to that. She was a sweet, caring person, and if she had a fault, it was that she was
too
caring. Nonetheless, he respected her immensely for it. But she just did not fill his soul.

Lauren filled him, to the very brink.

Marlaine did not seem to have the same enthusiasm for life; she was much too concerned with what others might think. It was inconceivable to him that his fiancée would ever allow herself to venture into a field. She would contribute funds to an orphanage but never shelter the children herself. She would abide his kisses, but she would never
ask
him to make love to her. And he seriously doubted she would respond to him with complete abandon.

She was not Lauren.

Bloody hell, Arthur was right. He had responsibilities that far outweighed these unprecedented feelings of love. He almost laughed out loud at the very idea that he, of all people, might have
feelings
of
love
.

What in the hell was love, anyway? Certainly nothing that could justify turning against years of certain beliefs about society, responsibility, and the peerage. Lauren was not of his station. A marriage to her would not consolidate fortunes or create formidable family alliances. Marlaine met these requirements, and she had waited for two years to be married to him. Waited like a good hunting dog, he thought miserably. Remorse washed over him. Whether or not he could have defied convention, it was too damned late. He had made his commitments and had no choice but to honor them. Listening to Marlaine's voice now, he knew he could not forsake her.

"Alex? I would have your opinion on this note," Marlaine said eagerly, and began to read what she had penned to Paddy. Yes, she deserved the wedding she so desperately wanted, the life of a duchess. She deserved far better than the likes of him, but unfortunately, she was unknowingly as mired in this mess as he was.

"That's lovely," he said, smiling thinly as he came to his feet.

"Oh my, look at the time!" Hannah said suddenly. "I promised Hortense to be a fourth at one of her loo tables. Marlaine, dear, I shall send the coach round in time for supper."

"Good afternoon, your grace!" Marlaine called in a singsong voice. Hannah walked to the door, pausing

as she grasped the brass handle. Looking over her shoulder at Alex, her eyes flicked the length of him.

He thought she might speak, but she abruptly smiled and left.

Marlaine looked up from the desk and smiled prettily at Alex when the door shut behind his mother. He reminded himself again that she would make him a good wife. A comfortable wife. He had never imagined or wanted more, just that she would be a good and comfortable—Goddammit, he did not
want
a good and comfortable wife! He wanted a wife that could stir the deepest passions in him! A lover who would move him to give her the stars! He wanted a wife who would make him thank
God
each day he awoke next to her.

He suddenly strode to the desk and roughly pulled Marlaine to her feet. "I missed you," he muttered, and claimed her mouth, searching hungrily for something, anything to cover the open wound in his heart, any signal that she could fill the void. Startled, Marlaine stiffened, her lips sealing tightly shut. Her hands came between them as he restlessly sought to unleash some response within her. He pressed her against him, insistent. But she was unyielding—she pushed hard against him, forcing him to release her.

Breathless, she took an unsteady step backward. "Goodness, darling!"

"I want to make love to you, Marlaine, right here, right now."

Red infused her face, and she anxiously patted her perfect coif as her eyes darted about the carpet.

"Alex, dearest! You would not ask me to do
that
before our wedding, would you?"

"Then marry me now,
today
," he said impulsively, frantic to lose himself in her, to claim her body and soul, to awaken something in her that would make it all bearable. Anything,
anything
that might wrest Lauren from his heart and replace her with the woman he would marry.

"You cannot be serious!" she exclaimed, her alarm evident.

"I am deadly serious. Marry me now," he said, and reached for her. She reacted convulsively, jerking insensibly out of his reach. Alex drew up, his eyes searching her face. She pressed her lips firmly together, focusing on his shoulder.

Good God, she was frightened by him.

At any other time, he might have found her maidenly angst amusing. But at this moment, he found it bloody irritating. He calmly watched the alarm and dread widen her brown eyes. There was no desire there, no need of him. Only fear. He abruptly turned and walked away from the desk, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. "No, of course I am not serious. I'm just happy to have you back. Go on with your plans, why don't you? There is something I must do, but I shall return shortly." He walked out of the library without looking back.

Vauxhall Gardens was out of the question. Everything, all that he desired was out of the question the moment Marlaine had walked through that door. He had no choice but to send a note.

Marlaine charitably attributed his behavior to a groom's jitters, and was in the process of making a list of things to do when Finch showed Lady Paddington and Mrs. Clark into the library.

"Lady Paddington! I just this moment dispatched a note to your home informing you I had returned!"

Marlaine exclaimed happily.

"Oh, I knew you had come. Mrs. Clark and I had heard from Lady Thistlecourt, who heard from—

"The duchess," Mrs. Clark interjected.

"The duchess. What wonderful news that your grandmother has taken a turn for the better! And not a moment too soon, if you ask me!" Lady Paddington declared. She seated herself, her voluminous, stiff satin skirts rustling loudly as she situated herself just so.

"Not a moment too soon?" Marlaine asked politely, coming from behind the desk. Mrs. Clark shot Lady Paddington a frown.

"Did I say that?" Lady Paddington laughed, and looked contritely at Mrs. Clark.

Confused, Marlaine looked at the two women. "Pardon, but did I miss something?"

"Well, of course not! You were only gone a
week
, what on earth could happen in a single
week?
" Lady Paddington fairly shouted.

"Clara!" Mrs. Clark snapped.

"
What?
" Lady Paddington responded gruffly.

Marlaine's stomach lurched oddly; she slowly lowered herself onto the couch. Mrs. Clark looked askance at Marlaine, then attempted a smile. "Lady Paddington is not quite herself today," she said apologetically.

"I am very much myself, thank you. I just thought the poor girl might have heard some of the ugly rumors flying about, and I thought to tell her straight on that there is not a shred of truth to them!" Lady Paddington insisted.

Marlaine's stomach did another queer flip. "Rumors?" she asked, very certain she did not want to hear them.

"Oh, it's all
rubbish!
A man may escort a woman to an opera. It's done all the time, I tell you!"

"I am quite sure I do not know what you mean. Of course men escort women to operas. Is there some question?" Marlaine asked, swallowing past a growing sense of disaster.

Lady Paddington brushed the lap of her gown very carefully. "No, at least not in
my
mind. Why, just last week, his grace escorted Lady Fairlane to the opera, and no one thought a
thing
of that."

"Well of course not! Lord Fairlane was called away unexpectedly and Lady Fairlane had been so looking forward to the event. Alex was being kind," Marlaine said.

"He is very kind," Mrs. Clark agreed. "They cannot take
that
from him."

"And he kindly escorted Countess Bergen last evening. Honestly, you would think Parliament had passed some sort of law against simple acts of kindness the way the
ton
goes on and on!" Lady Paddington said angrily.

Her announcement dropped Marlaine's stomach to her toes; her heart began to beat erratically. He had said he would be a good husband. He had all but promised in her father's garden to stop this infatuation.

She could no longer deceive herself. Instinctively, she knew—had known for weeks—that this infatuation was somehow different. A surge of anger suddenly shot through her as she recalled the way he had kissed her this very afternoon. Although she did not know
how
, she knew his behavior was related in some way to the countess. "The duke accompanied Countess Bergen to the opera last evening?" she heard herself ask.

"My dear, you will not
think
of it. It is silly, idle chatter, nothing more. Sutherland is a good boy, a very good boy," Lady Paddington averred so strongly, that Marlaine could not help wondering whom she was trying to convince.

"No talk about
him
, of course," Mrs. Clark quickly replied.

"Oh no!" Lady Paddington confirmed. "But there are some who think the countess should not have accompanied him. It was really indelicate, particularly when the object of her affections—"

"You mean her
escort
—"

"Particularly when her
escort
was waiting on pins and needles for the return of his fiancée."

"Oh, and he
was
, my dear, you can rest assured of that!" Mrs. Clark interjected. "He has no interest in
her
, none whatsoever!"

"I have always maintained that if a woman can lose eighteen rounds of loo in one setting, there is something not quite right," Lady Paddington sniffed.

Marlaine barely heard Mrs. Clark's opinion of that. She was too engrossed in keeping a sudden swell of nausea at bay.

At the Haddington Road Infirmary, a distracted Lauren listened to Mr. Peavey for what seemed hours, hardly able to concentrate long enough to form a sentence. All she could think of was Alex. Throughout the afternoon and on the return trip home, she tried to imagine what he was doing, if he was thinking

about her. She closed her eyes and saw the way his dark hair curled above his collar, his broad hand resting on hers, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he laughed. She saw the smoldering way he looked at her as he had thrust into her. An involuntary tremble coursed through her, and she rubbed her hands vigorously against her arms.

Once again at Russell Square, she dressed very carefully for the evening. The pale pink brocade gown she chose seemed a little overdone for Vauxhall Gardens, she thought, and burst into gay laughter. She could meet him in the middle of the pumpkin field for all she cared,
anywhere
, as long as she saw him again.

At half past six, she fairly flew outside to wave down a passing hack and cheerfully gave the driver the direction to Lady Darfield's. Arriving at the Audley Street mansion, she smiled broadly at the Darfield's butler when he showed her to the green sitting room where Abbey was on the floor, playing with Alexa.

Her friend clambered to her feet when Jones announced her. "Lauren! What a wonderful surprise!" she exclaimed, greeting her with a fond hug. "I had not expected you! I am so glad you have come. Michael and I have spent the entire day preparing for our return to Blessing Park, and I could sorely use some company."

"I should have sent a note around, but I was hoping you might do me an enormous favor," Lauren said, clasping her friend's hands.

"Of course! What is it?"

"Would you
please
help me with my hair?"

"Your
hair?
" Abbey laughed. "My, my, Countess Bergen, I have never known you to be overly concerned with your hair!"

"I know, I know, but I want it to look, well,
special
." She dropped Abbey's hands and pivoted around.

"What do you think?"

"I think I have been dying to get my hands on those curls for quite some time! What is the occasion?"

Lauren hesitated. Funny, she had not thought of this awkwardness before now. "Uh, it's a… nothing," she blurted.

Abbey's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Nothing, is it?" She suddenly jerked Lauren's cloak open, eyeing her gown. "Oh, my! It's
beautiful!
All right,
don't
tell me, but I can easily guess!" she exclaimed, planting her hands on her hips.

"You can?" Lauren asked fearfully.

"Of course! You are in
love
, Lauren Hill Bergen, and do not think for a moment that you can deny it!

Really, it's not as if he hasn't made his affections widely known!" she exclaimed, and stooped to pick up Alexa.

Lauren suddenly could not breathe. Had Abbey heard the talk Ethan had mentioned? Dear God, how did she
know?
"I—I do not know what you mean," she said shakily.

Abbey laughed, hoisting Alexa onto her hip. "Honestly, Lauren,
everyone
knows Count Bergen is wild for you! Oh, I am so happy for you, I truly am! It is going to happen, is it not?"

Astounded and relieved Abbey thought her affections were for Magnus, Lauren laughed uneasily. "Is

what
going to happen?"

"Why, marriage, of course!" Abbey laughed.

"Marriage?"

"You mean he has not
offered
for you?" Abbey asked, incredulous.

"No! I mean, yes—I mean—"

"Lady Marlaine calling, madam," Jones said from the doorway.

"Oh,
wonderful!
We shall have a little party, shall we? A celebration of sorts! Two weddings in one year!" Abbey giggled delightedly. "Please show Lady Marlaine in," she said to Jones, then turned an endearing grin to Lauren. "You must promise you won't say a word until I come back from the nursery, do you promise? Hold onto every single thought!" she exclaimed happily, and fairly skipped out of the room, explaining to Alexa that mummy was going to have a tea party.