A Scandalous Marriage (23 page)

Devon’s eyes narrowed angrily. It was as she had anticipated: He was disgusted with her. Her hands gripped the edge of the tub. She leaned forward, hiding her face from view.

“Are you sure he is dead, Leah?”

She nodded. It hurt to speak.

“Good. Because otherwise, I’d have to kill him.” His hand rested on her shoulder. His voice close to her ear, he said, “Now I understand why you jump like a skittish colt at the thought of intimacy. You shouldn’t feel that way. The bonding between a man and a woman is a joyous thing. At no other time are you more alive than when you find yourself in your lover’s arms.”

She responded to the conviction in his voice and turned her head to look at him. “I didn’t feel alive.”

“That’s because you weren’t made love to.”

Her hair still hung tangled and wild around her shoulders. He pushed a lock of it back with one hand, carefully tucking it behind her ear. “Making love is like being on a quest. It’s discovering what the French call
le petit mort,
when all the forces in the universe center on that one moment of ecstasy. One day soon, I will introduce you to that moment. And we will find it together.”

She nodded, mesmerized by the conviction in his voice.

“We are man and wife,” he continued. “You are never to feel shame with me. I vowed to protect you, to honor you—and as unconventional as our wedding was, I meant those words.”

She wished now that everything had been different, that she had not let Draycutt have her. That she could be unsullied for Devon.

“Ah, Leah,” he whispered. “When you look so sad, you turn my soul inside out.” His lips covered hers.

Last night, the kiss between them had been an education. But now she knew how to kiss. He had taught her.

Even more important, she had a reason to kiss him.

She offered herself with shy eagerness, and Devon took full advantage. His arm pulled her close, his mouth became more demanding, and when his tongue first stroked hers, she thought she could melt from the pleasure of it.

He kissed her lips, her cheek, her neck. The tickle of his hot breath against her ear almost sent her to the ceiling.

“Touch me, Leah,” he whispered. “Feel how much I want you.”

She ran her hands, still soapy and wet, over his back and his shoulders. But that wasn’t what he wanted.

He guided her hand under the water, running it along his thigh. His skin felt like raw silk beneath her palm.

Her fingers brushed what seemed like steel wrapped in velvet.

He was hard, and she understood what that meant. She couldn’t touch him. She didn’t want to. It was too soon after the baby. She attempted to pull away… but his voice gentled her.

“Don’t be afraid. I won’t jump on you or do anything you don’t want. I just need to feel your skin against mine. Can you understand that? I want to know your touch.”

She relaxed. He kissed her again, urgently. Her hand wrapped around him.

Devon groaned against her mouth. She started to retreat, afraid she’d hurt him.

“No,” he begged and brought her hand back.

He kissed the line of her neck down to her shoulders and across the bodice of her gown. The heat of his mouth against her skin was delicious.

She moaned with happy pleasure. David Draycutt had never given her this.

Devon covered her mouth, his hand covering the place his lips had just explored. Her nipples pressed against his hand, begging for his touch.

At that moment, Ben started crying. In response, her breasts filled to overflowing. She felt the sudden heat and the leaking.

She was mortified—until Devon started laughing, his mouth still covering hers, his hand still covering her breast. The next thing she knew, she was laughing with him. Joyful, carefree laughter. They laughed so hard that she fell back onto the floor and he almost rolled under the water.

“I’m sorry,” she managed to gasp out.

He turned serious then. “Don’t ever apologize.” His hand caressed the side of her face, his fingers lightly touching her brow and her cheeks. “I think at this moment, you are more beautiful than I’ve ever seen you.”

“You said that when I had the baby.”

“Yes, and I will say it tomorrow and the next day and the next—” He kissed her hard and fast one last time. “You make me happy.”

Tears pooled in her eyes. Happy. Yes, that was the word to describe how she felt.

Ben was showing a bit of temper. His cries were angrier than she’d ever heard them. “You’d best see to him.”

Leah nodded, rising. She looked down at her chemise and petticoat. Worn and washed so often that they were almost gray, they hadn’t handled this morning’s dousings well.

“I’m going to buy you a dozen undergarments,” Devon declared. “The best London has to offer. They will be trimmed with lace and ribbons and…” He paused. “Whatever else you want.”

She laughed at his clowning and went to her son. Ben was very wet. Fortunately, she had two more nappies, but the wash would have to be done. She began changing him, pulling off his nightdress first.

Devon rose from the tub completely at ease with his nakedness. She still wasn’t ready for it. He reached for a towel to wrap around his waist and stepped back behind the screen.

He’d still been aroused. His “stick” was larger and appeared much bolder than Draycutt’s. But instead of fear, she felt pride. Something deep and primal reacted inside of her at the sight of him… and at the image of their bodies joined together. Someday. Someday soon.

Devon dressed, taking his time with it and gifting her with lingering kisses as she changed Ben.

“I’m going down for breakfast. Do you wish to join me or have a tray up here?”

“A tray will do. These are my only undergarments, and I need to dry,” she reminded him pointedly.

He laughed. “I’m sending for Madame Nola.” He referred to London’s premier dressmaker. “I’ll have her here this afternoon.”

“Madame Nola won’t come running,” Leah answered. “She is in constant demand. You have to book fittings weeks in advance.”

“She will come running for me,” Devon assured her. “I supply her silks.”

Leah marveled at the pride in his boast. Perhaps if more noblemen, like her brothers or father, found self-esteem and respect in the fruit of their own labors instead of gambling, they’d all be much happier.

Devon kissed her forehead. “You relax this morning. If you need anything, ring for the maid. And don’t worry about Venetia. I will talk to her. Understand?”

She nodded, and he left the room.

Leah stared at the door long after he’d left. Finally, she whispered what was growing in her heart. “I love you.”

Devon found Venetia in the Morning Room, clearly enjoying a cup of tea while Rex read the morning newspapers.

He greeted Devon. “Congratulations, coz, your name is on everyone’s lips.”

“I live to entertain,” he answered curtly. “Venetia, we must talk.”

“We have nothing to say to each other,” she replied, pouring more cream in her tea. Her hair was perfectly coifed, every pin in place—but he knew Leah had not fabricated her story.

“You have ruined your family,” she continued. “You have only to look at the papers to know how thoroughly.”

“The papers? What do you mean?” Devon snapped. He practically grabbed the paper out of Rex’s hands.

“Look on page three,” Rex advised.

Devon didn’t have to look hard. “Mystery Beauty Is Found” read the headline.

He swore softly. Carruthers had been quicker spreading the story than Devon had anticipated. The information came from Carruthers. There were several paragraphs about the discovery of a Lord C that Lord H—“a noted favorite with the ladies”—had succumbed to the parson’s knot with none other than the lovely Miss Leah Carrollton, “last Season’s Reigning Debutante.”

He tossed the paper down on the table. “It had to be announced.”

“Have you no pride?” his aunt declared. “We are the topic of every table all over London.”

“And tomorrow there will be some other gossip and scandal to occupy the ton’s narrow minds.”

“The Marshalls have never been the object of gossip. Not until you.”

Devon threw himself down in the chair opposite hers, stretching his long legs out to infringe on her space, something he knew from boyhood she didn’t like. “Aunt, you may recite all my faults until the moon falls from the sky and it won’t replace the fact that I will be the marquess of Kirkeby before Rex has a chance at it.”

The color drained from her face. She used rouge. It showed up now as two bright spots on her cheeks.

“You are unworthy.”

Devon placed a fist over his heart. “You wound me.” He sat up, leaning toward her. “And you may say whatever you wish to me or about me,” he said almost pleasantly. “But you will leave my wife and my son alone. When you and Leah are in public together, you will be all that is good and gracious. Am I clear?”

“I won’t. I can’t.”

“You have no choice,” he said silkily, “unless you wish to be cut off.” Vainhope had not left her in good financial straits, and, knowing Rex the way he did, Devon doubted if his cousin was more generous. Plus Venetia wanted to live at Montclef. She had lived most of life here, even while she was married. Devon knew she would do as he wished.

She threw down her teaspoon with such force that it bounced off the table. The action would have seemed comical except that she was so angry. “I’ve no feeling for you.”

“That’s been obvious. But after Grandfather, my word is law, and if you expect to continue to live off the generosity of the Kirkeby title, then you will accept my conditions.”

Her eyes went cold with fury, and he had a glimpse of the woman who had threatened Leah.

He continued. “Grandfather is going to make a recovery.”

She blinked, surprised at his change of subject and its import. The thought flitted through Devon’s mind that he had forgotten to tell Leah. His “distraction” had apparently worked for him more than it had for her.

Rex sat up straight at the news. “You are certain?”

Devon nodded. “Grandfather will be with us for a good while longer. We must live in peace, Venetia, for his sake.”

Her jaw tightened. Her frown grew even more fierce.

Devon softened his tone. “I know how proud you are, and for most of my life I have avoided your path.

But I can’t any longer. I won’t.” His smile included Rex as he said those final words. His cousin’s face was a study of bored interest.

“Devon.” Leah’s voice surprised him from the doorway.

He turned, rising to his feet. She was dressed in the blue velvet he had purchased at the inn. Her hair was styled in curls that fell down around her shoulders. Pride swelled in his chest at her regal bearing.

Venetia would be wise to learn a lesson or two from Leah.

“Are you here to join us for breakfast?” he asked.

She shook her head. A sleeping Ben was cradled on her shoulder. Her eyes looked like they were ready to swallow her face whole. A maid waited anxiously behind her.

Intuition warned him that all wasn’t as it seemed. “Is something wrong?”

“I have visitors.” She glanced anxiously from Rex to his mother and then said, “My parents are here.

They want to see me.”

“Here?” Venetia said, her tone rising. “They’ve come here?”

Devon ignored her. “Where are they?”

The maid answered. “In the ivory receiving room, my lord.”

Good. That was the room reserved for special visitors. He nodded to a footman. “Prepare some refreshment for our guests. Have Wills himself serve us.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Devon ushered Leah out of the Morning Room and away from Rex and Venetia’s interested hearing.

She was shaky. “It will be all right,” he assured her. “Perhaps you would like the maid to take Ben upstairs—”

“No.”

Devon glanced at the maid. She was not one of the older servants that he knew. “You may go. We will be fine.”

The maid curtsied and left. Devon escorted Leah toward the Ivory Room. “If you don’t wish to see them, you don’t have to.”

Leah was too panicked to think straight. “But I did tell them I was in London. It’s what I wanted, but it’s so soon… They know Ben is not your child. At least, Mother does. I don’t know whom else she may have told. Thinking about it, she probably didn’t tell Father. Oh, Devon, what if he doesn’t even know about the baby?”

Devon stopped, his claim for his son his first concern. “Is there anyone else, anyone in the whole world who also knows the truth?”

Leah thought a moment. “Old Edith.”

“She won’t say anything. But what about friends? Did you confide this to anyone?”

Her lips twisted into a rueful smile. “The competition is so fierce during the Season no one trusts anyone else. I can count my true friends on one hand. Tess Hamlin is one, and she is off in Wales. Anne Burnett is another. Her aunt hired her out as a companion in Sussex before I knew I was pregnant.”

“Then let us go meet your mother and hear what she has to say.”

He started forward, but still she hung back.

“What is it, Leah?”

“I just—” she started and then broke off.

“What?”

Leah didn’t speak for a moment. When she did find her voice, it was tight with suppressed emotion.

“My mother. I trusted her. She was my closest friend. But it is because she wanted to take my baby from me, to make me marry a man who is repulsive to me, that I ran from the marriage. How can I face her now?”

“You don’t have to. I will send her away now.” He would have turned and done exactly that except her hand caught his arm and held him back.

“She’s my mother,” Leah explained to his unasked question. “She’s the grandmother of our child.”

Devon understood now. Deep in her heart, Leah needed reconciliation. Had he not come to London to do the same with his grandfather?

“Then see her.”

Leah drew a breath and released it before nodding agreement. “I think I would like to see them alone first.”

“Of course. Whatever you wish. I’ll wait outside.”

Together, they walked to the Ivory Room. Outside the door, Devon asked, “Do you want me to hold Ben?”

Leah started to hand him to Devon and then changed her mind. “No. I want her to see that what I protected from her plan was worth my giving up everything.”