The Dangerous Lord (34 page)

He swung his head around to gaze at her uncertainly. “What I did is so much worse. You say it doesn't matter, but after you've considered all its implications—”

“I will still love you. Once my heart has decided something, it doesn't alter, and my heart is quite certain what it feels about you.”

Picking up her hand, he stared down at it. “You're forgetting that this isn't over yet. If for some reason, we don't have a son in the prescribed time, we lose Chesterley.”

She took heart from the fact that he said “we.” “When I met you I had less than nothing. So how could I complain about having only nothing?”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “You have the strangest way of looking at things.”

“Which is why you love me.” The second she said the words, she wished them unsaid. He hadn't said he loved her, after all.

But he lifted his head, eyes clear and steady. “I do love you, you know. More than anyone in my life. I shouldn't say it and bind you further to me, but it's true. And the thought of losing you tortures me.”

“Oh, Ian,” she said, so happy she could hardly contain it, “you'll never lose me!”

His fingers griped hers tightly. “Listen to me, Felicity. There are other ramifications of the fight with my uncle. If we don't fulfill the terms of the will, I intend to fight it. He's already sucked his own estate dry; I won't let him do the same to Chesterley. But that would mean contesting the will in court, and with a public forum, there's always a risk that this story may come out.”

“We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“There's more. If we do fulfill the terms, my uncle may retaliate. Until you told me what he said to you, I hadn't realized how far he'd go to stop me from inheriting. He's a coward as all bullies are, which is why he has confined himself to telling tales to women I've courted. But if he
finds he has nothing to lose, there's no predicting what he'll say. You may discover yourself cut off from society, your husband vilified, and your brothers and children pitied. I love you too much to want that for you.”

“And I love you too much to let you face it alone.” She squeezed his hands.

His eyes searched hers a long moment. “You seem determined on this course. Very well, here's what I propose. At tonight's ball there will be speculation—some of it distasteful—about why we married so quickly. The old rumors about me will circulate again, thanks to our wedding. If you find you can endure the most vicious gossip—though I know it's only a fraction of what could occur later in our marriage—I'll speak to you no more of separation or divorce.”

She bristled. “I don't need this test to know I want to remain married to you.”

“Don't look at it as a test.” He smiled wanly. “It's your last chance to escape. Though it will tear my heart out to watch you leave, I can endure it if it means your happiness.” His solemn gaze bore into hers. “But if you decide after tonight to remain with me, I'll never let you go, do you hear? You'll be stuck with me for all our lives no matter what my uncle tries. So make your decision carefully.”

“I will. And now you listen to me, Lord St. Clair. When I give you my decision after tonight, you must abide by it. No more of this ‘I know what's best for you' and ‘you might regret it.' We'll start afresh, two people who love each other and who married for that reason alone.”

He hesitated a moment, then sighed. “As always, you drive a hard bargain.”

“Then you agree?”

Bending his head, he pressed a fervent kiss to their clasped hands. “Yes, my love. I agree.”

F
elicity glanced over at Ian as the carriage approached Lord Stratton's town house. He'd been quiet ever since their talk, all through dressing for the ball and the ride here. Now he looked positively somber. She wished he didn't feel compelled to make this test of her love, but she understood it. He couldn't accept her love until he forgave himself, and she would help him do that in time.

Despite his concerns, they were truly married now. She couldn't wait to see Mrs. Box to tell her how content she was with her situation.
More
than content. A lifetime with Ian, free of secrets and uncertainties—what woman wouldn't be ecstatic over the thought?

“What are you smiling about?” he grumbled.

She couldn't resist teasing him. “It's my first ball as the Viscountess St. Clair. If Miss Taylor could gain the confidences of so many people, only think how much material the Viscountess St. Clair can gather for Lord X!”

“Then thank God it's Lord X's name on your bloody
column, that's all I have to say,” he muttered, though a ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Otherwise, I'll be fighting duels every week over it.”

Delighted that his words implied a future for them, she quipped, “Oh, but I'm thinking of using my real name now. When I went to tell Mr. Pilkington I was marrying, he suggested calling it, ‘Her Ladyship's Secrets, by the Viscountess St. Clair.' Doesn't that have a nice ring?”

He raised one eyebrow. “Are you trying to send me to an early grave?”

“Hmm. If you die, I'd be the
Dowager
Viscountess St. Clair. That has a nice ring, too.” When he scowled, she added, “It's a joke, Ian. Must I always explain my jokes to you?”

“When they're not funny, yes.”

He didn't smile, and she regretted teasing him. It would be some time before he felt secure of her, she could see. But she could wait. As long as he loved her.

“Don't worry,” she said softly, “I've no intention of using my real name. I told Pilkington you would never approve. He was disappointed, but when I pointed out that the other choice was having me stop writing for him, he saw it my way.”

That finally brought a smile. “I'm sure he did. Pilkington is no fool. He knows better than to cross swords with you, my love.”

My love. Now that has an even nicer ring to it
, she thought.

The carriage stopped, and they disembarked. He offered her his arm, and she took it with a burst of possessive gladness. They began to climb the stairs, but had scarcely moved halfway up before Jordan came running out to greet them.

“Ian,” he said without preamble, “I've been watching for you.”

The muscles in Ian's arm stiffened beneath her fingers. “What's wrong?”

“Your uncle is here.”

A quick shudder went through Felicity.

Jordan hurried on. “He's heard about your marriage and is…telling tales. About you and Felicity.”

“What kind of tales?” Felicity asked.

Jordan shot her a glance. “Well, for one thing, he found out you're Lord X. He's spread the news of that quite broadly.”

“It appears your new pen name will become necessary after all,” Ian said coolly.

Felicity groaned. “No doubt Mr. Pilkington decided I needed a little push in that direction, and your uncle was handy for his purpose.”

“Yes, but Lennard has twisted it to suit his own purposes, whatever they are,” Jordan said. “He's told everyone that you discovered Ian's darkest secrets as Lord X, so Ian forced you to marry him to keep you quiet. That's why the wedding was so hasty, and why you wrote those comments about Ian's being honest with his wife.”

Felicity winced. Must all her columns return to haunt her? She glanced up at Ian's rigid face. He hated this and blamed himself for it. She could tell.

“There's more, my friend,” Jordan went on. “Your uncle is saying other things as well—about you in particular.”

Ian's arm was like a band of iron under her fingers. “Not the usual gossip, I take it. What's he saying?”

Jordan shrugged. “Lies…rumors…idiocy. I thought you should know.”

“What ‘lies'?” Ian asked firmly.

Jordan's gaze shot to Felicity. “Perhaps we should speak privately, Ian.”

“I have no secrets from her,” Ian retorted. “Tell me.”

“As you wish. He's claiming you forced yourself on his wife, then left England to avoid the scandal of her suicide.
He says you took advantage of both Felicity and your friend Miss Greenaway. He paints you as the worst debaucher who ever lived.”

As Ian jerked away from her to go stand with his fists braced against the stone rails, anger slammed into Felicity. Ian's wretched uncle hadn't even had the decency to wait until he was sure Ian had sired an heir before he attacked. What a sniveling coward—to air his grievances in this despicable manner!

“Is that all?” she snapped at Jordan. “Why doesn't he just accuse Ian of drinking the blood of virgins and torturing women in his dungeon?”

“I warned you this might happen,” Ian said in a low voice meant only for her. “I just didn't expect it so soon.”

“He won't get away with it,” she vowed. “I won't let him.”

“If you try to deny his tales,” Jordan put in, “it'll only make matters worse. They'll think Ian is forcing you to defend him. Ian's always been so mysterious about his past they'll believe anything his uncle says. And the sudden wedding surprised everyone. The best thing for both of you is to brazen it out, say nothing about it. Emily and I will be at your side, as well as Sara and Gideon—”

“No!” Ian whirled around to face them. “My uncle's quarrel is with me. I don't want the rest of you involved. You and Emily and the others should disassociate yourselves from me until this is over. And Felicity, you're going home.”

“The devil I am! Run from that weasel's accusations? Never!”

“I agree, Lady St. Clair.” Jordan crossed his arms over his chest, daring Ian to contradict him. “I'm not ‘disassociating' myself from anyone.”

Ian shot his friend a dark look. “We'll discuss that in a moment. But first I need a word in private with my wife.”

“Of course.” Jordan retreated up the stairs a short distance, still looking affronted.

Ian turned his glittering gaze on her. “I won't have you harmed by this. I won't let my uncle hurt you.”

“And I won't let him hurt
you
. These rumors involve both of us, so I have as much right to fight this battle as you. Besides, I know precisely how to deal with his sort of vermin.” When Ian started to protest, she added softly, “You promised me a chance to prove myself this evening. Well, this is my chance, and I'm taking it.”

“Damn it,
querida
, you've never been the subject of vicious rumor. I have, and I tell you, I won't put you through that. You don't know how cruel people can be!”

“
I
don't know? Have you forgotten to whom you're talking? The best way to fight gossip is with gossip, and as you know, that's my forte. Give me a chance to thwart him, Ian. I can do it. I know I can.” Well, she
thought
she could, anyway. She'd had all afternoon to think about what to do if some of Ian's fears came to pass, and she'd formed a plan. It was risky and might not work, but she had to try.

“You needn't sacrifice your reputation to prove you love me.”

“I don't care about my reputation. Besides, I'm not trying to prove I love you. I'm trying to prove you can trust me. Always. Have faith in me, Ian. I won't betray your darkest secrets.”

“I know that, damn it! But I don't want you involved. I should never have dragged you into this marriage in the first place—”

“Stop it! You've lived so long with this guilt that you think you deserve punishment, and you plan to exact it by denying yourself the pleasures of our love. Well, I'm in this marriage, too. If you punish yourself, you punish me, remember? I won't let you salve your conscience by forcing me from this marriage to live in misery without you. I intend to be very firm on this subject.”

That brought him up short. He regarded her thoughtfully. “I wouldn't want you to live in misery, my love.” He brushed his thumb over her chin, then sighed. “Very well. When you put it that way, I have little choice in the matter.”

Her heart soaring, she grabbed his palm and kissed it, then glanced up to where Jordan paced the top of the stairs, shooting them long, exasperated glances. “That goes for your friends, too, Ian. They believe in you as I do, and they don't want to lose your friendship. They want to help. You need their help, whether you admit it or not. It's one thing for Edgar Lennard to libel his nephew. It's quite another for him to libel the Viscount St. Clair, the Earl and Countess of Blackmore, and the Earl and Countess of Worthing. If you let them stand beside you, it will only help your case.”

He groaned. “You're asking me to let them suffer on my account. At least you have a full knowledge of why this is happening; they don't. I have no right to ask for their help when they don't know the truth.”

“Then tell them the truth. You can trust them, you know. They're good people. They'll only think more of you for your honesty. I promise they won't disappoint you.” Clasping his lapels, she gave him a reassuring smile. “Nor will I.”

The light of the gas lamps flickered over his torn expression. Slowly he swept his hand along her cheek in a gentle caress. “You couldn't disappoint me if you walked into that ballroom, stripped yourself naked, and stuck your tongue out at everyone.”

Some of the tension left her. Maybe there was hope for her husband after all. “I suppose that might work,” she quipped, “but it's much too cold this evening. I think I'll try my plan first, if you don't mind.”

“My God,” he said hoarsely, “what did I do to deserve you?”

“The same thing I did to deserve you—nothing. You were yourself. And that's enough.”

She smiled at him, and without warning, he dragged her against him and kissed her long and deep. When he released her, she stared up at him dazed. “What was that for?”

“For luck.”

“Luck?” she said loftily. “I don't
need
luck. I'll have you know I'm the Viscountess St. Clair, soon to be the most notorious female writer of gossip in London. If
I
can't turn rumor to my advantage, who can?”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “I beg your pardon. I didn't mean to question your capabilities.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we go in and face the snakes, my lady?”

She tilted her chin up proudly as she hooked her hand in his elbow. “By all means, my lord.”

Jordan awaited them at the top of the stairs. The three of them entered Lord Stratton's town house together and were shown to the ballroom by a footman. When she and Ian were announced, there was a general stir in the room.

She swallowed. This wasn't like the time she'd fled through a ballroom after Ian's kiss. This time, the gossip could ruin her. And Ian. Indeed, if her plan failed, she might leave her husband worse off than before. She glanced up at Ian, then took strength from his arrogant expression. If he could face down this crowd with defiance, then so could she.

As they walked inside, Emily and Sara joined them, looking anxious. But before she could say anything to allay their worries, she spotted Lady Brumley heading toward her with half the gossips in tow. Her hands grew clammy.

Turning to Ian, she whispered, “Why don't you and Jordan go off somewhere and talk? I can handle this better without you standing there frowning at everyone and convincing them that you are indeed the Devil Incarnate.”

That brought a smile to his lips. “Was I frowning?”

“Glowering, more like.” She drew her hand from his el
bow. “Go on now. Talk to your friend—you'll feel better afterward. I'll be fine.”

His gaze bore into hers, serious again. “I love you.”

“Good. Keep that thought in mind.” Because after what she was about to do, he might want to strangle her. Especially if it didn't work.

Jordan and Ian had scarcely left her for one of the card rooms when Lady Brumley and her entourage were upon them. It was now or never.

“My dear girl!” Lady Brumley exclaimed, eyes bright with pleasure. “So glad to see you here! And married, too! What a shock! We've been hearing the most amazing stories, but as I've told everyone, it's all nonsense.”

“Stories? About me?” Felicity asked in her most innocent tone, wondering if she could pull this off.

Sara and Emily shook their heads as if to warn her, but she ignored them. She had to try this. Otherwise, Ian would continue to suffer at the hands of the gossips.

“Some troublemaking creature insists that you're Lord X.” Lady Brumley kissed the air on either side of Felicity's cheeks. “I told them it couldn't be true.”

“But it
is
true, my dear Lady Brumley,” Felicity replied. “Now that I'm married, I see no reason to keep it a secret.”

That clearly took everyone by surprise, not so much because it confirmed the gossip, but because she didn't seem disturbed that her identify had been revealed.

“Is Lord St. Clair forcing you to end the column?” someone asked.

“No, indeed.” She forced a bright smile to her face. “My husband likes my column, you know. In fact, we discussed it on our way here. I'm thinking of calling it ‘Secrets of a Viscountess.' Ian says the title's misleading, since it's not supposed to be
my
secrets, but I think it has a lovely ring. What do you think?”