The Genuine Article (29 page)

Downstairs, Reginald gave orders to his secretary to search out the marquess, and a servant was sent to find the nightwatch to keep a guard on the house. Satisfied that all was done that could be, Reginald turned to Marian with a frown.

"Well, now that we have scandalized the entire
ton
all at once, what should we do for an encore? Do you wish to return to the ball?"

"Will you let me dance?" she demanded.

"Of course." Reginald caught her hand and pulled her toward the door. "With me only, unless you mean to change that gown."

"I will not change my gown. I paid a fortune for this gown. I mean to wear it every chance I get." Marian hurried down the steps after him.

"Then resign yourself to dancing with me for the rest of your life. I have no intention of watching grown men drool over you as they guide you around the dance floor." Reginald held out his hand to assist her into the waiting carriage.

Marian ignored it and climbed in by herself. "Only children drool. And if there are only children at these affairs, I have no wish to attend them."

Behind them, Charles rolled his eyes and pulled out his watch. He wondered if he had ever been so young as to bicker like this when what he actually meant to do was to haul the young lady in his arms and kiss her mouth shut.

Reginald was struggling with just that urge even though Marian went silent once Charles entered the carriage. The heady scent of the roses at her waist drifted around him, combining with the softer scent of the lemon juice she must have used on her tresses for this occasion.

He wanted to bury his face in her hair and pull her against him and forget everything but the joy of making her his. He knew he had gone beyond rationality but he no longer cared. What was done was done, and he meant to make the best of it. He was quite certain that bedding Marian would be the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Reginald gave a grimace of distaste as the carriage returned to Devonshire House. His thoughts were far from the glittering panoply of guests inside. He wondered if Marian felt the same. He sensed her reluctance as he helped her out.

Charles was the one to break their silence. "We will have to enter together so it is known that the lady was not alone with you all this time. I told Devonshire there was a sudden illness. Perhaps the lady's maid?"

"You had best give the truth to Marian's mother. Their maid is a veritable part of the family. She would be concerned if you tell her the lie." Reginald's voice had returned to the cold and impersonal as he escorted Marian into the house.

"I trust you are prepared to marry quickly, then. Lady Grace will not look kindly on this escapade, even with my accompaniment," the viscount admonished.

Marian gripped Reginald's arm tighter and sent his taut features a look of concern. "I'm sorry. I only wished to keep you from doing something you would regret later."

Her betrothed smiled grimly. "You will be the one who is sorry for ever having anything to do with me. And I shan't tell you that you succeeded in your quest; it will only lead to more impetuousness on your part. But I fully intended to strangle O'Toole."

Marian smiled uncertainly as they returned to the ballroom. Reginald was capable of many layers of communicating. What would she regret and why? Was he sorry that she had prevented him from strangling his valet? Was he prone to acts of violence when enraged? Should she return with him after the ball to prevent him from murdering the poor man?

The prospect of marrying a murderer kept Marian so bemused as they entered the ballroom that she was scarcely aware of the heads turning at their entrance. She smiled politely at the duke as he expressed his concern, allowed Lord Witham to make their explanations, and asked to be led to the ladies' retiring room so she might repair herself. She needed time to gather her courage before facing the crowd again. Or facing Reginald. She wasn't certain which.

When she came out, only Reginald waited for her. His brother must have headed off her mother and sister and their questions. She couldn't read his expression as he watched her approach, but remembering his opinion of her gown, she felt certain he was looking at her bosom. She lowered her gaze and tried not to blush.

"I thought you might like some punch and then a stroll on the balcony before returning to the ballroom. It is quite stifling in there." Reginald took her hand on his arm and led her properly toward the refreshment room.

"It can't be proper to stroll on the balcony," she murmured as he produced a cup of punch for each of them. "Haven't we created enough scandal for one evening?"

"We might as well start out as we mean to go on. Since we have already announced our betrothal, they will just think we are overly romantical. Of course, everyone will be counting the months until our first child is born, but that is common enough."

Marian bestowed a scandalized look on him, but Reginald's expression was quite unruffled as he led her toward the doors to the outside. Their first child? She had barely thought as far as their wedding day, and he was already considering children. The notion thrilled her as she stepped into the coolness of the evening.

"I don't wish to be thought fast," she protested as the door closed behind them. "It leads gentlemen to assume things that aren't proper."

Reginald snorted. "That gown leads them to assume a great many things that aren't proper. I think I'll lock you in the house when we are married."

"I am growing tired of this argument," Marian answered peevishly. "I have excellent taste and this gown is no worse than any other I have seen tonight. If you really mean to be a possessive tyrant, I will rethink this betrothal at once."

Reginald pulled her into his arms. "Too late. The deed is done. Neither of our families will allow us to cry off now. You sealed your fate tonight, my dear. Try not to protest too vigorously as we march up the aisle."

His mouth closed over hers before she could even begin her protests.

Marian began to remember why she wanted this marriage. She liked the possessiveness of Reginald's mouth on hers, the heat of him as he claimed her, the thrill of his hands as they held her. There were other things she liked and admired about this man also, but they escaped her when he held her like this, as did everything else. Her hands slid to his shoulders and clung there as their mouths came together. She was entirely too aware of his hard body as he pressed her against him.

They were neither of them aware of their audience until a dark figure lounging against a far rail asserted himself.

"And here I thought it was my dramatic cape that you wished to admire, cousin. When will you to learn to keep away from this mongrel?"

The caped figure stepped into the patterns of light from the ballroom window. A hood hid his face in shadow, and only a glimmer of white linen could be seen through the folds of dark cloth as he propped his arms akimbo on his hips. But neither Marian or Reginald had any doubts as to his identity.

The Marquess of Effingham had come to London.

Chapter 24

Reginald pulled Marian behind him. "Relation or no, I am tired of your intrusion into what is none of your affair. Unless you have come to return Marian's necklace and the missing diamonds, you would do better to make yourself scarce."

Behind him, Marian gasped. Reginald felt her struggling to interfere, but he stopped her with his arm, keeping her at a safe distance from the American.

Hidden behind the folds of his cape, the marquess's expression couldn't readily be determined, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice as he replied. "You have a very good eye. The diamonds were needed. They will be replaced as soon as I can generate a flow of cash from the estate. In truth, I did not think the ladies would miss them. So you have caught me out in this. But I sent Michael back with the necklace. I still believe it to be mine, but I could not wish to unduly upset the ladies. Michael is generally obedient to a direct order. Is that not the necklace my cousin is wearing?"

Marian's fingers closed around Reginald's arm. He liked the feel of them there, and he didn't protest when she stepped to his side. Somehow, the fact that she clung to him was reassuring.

"That is the copy that your blasted valet ferreted from its hiding place. Undoubtedly he thought to rob us both. He returned the original to my keeping, then replaced it before it reached Marian's hands, probably thinking I would not notice once she was wearing it." Reginald didn't mention that he almost hadn't, distracted as he had been by Marian's more natural assets.

The marquess sighed in exasperation. "I will wring his neck this time. I have warned him often enough that his light fingers would get him into trouble. You are only half-right. Michael won't steal from me. He has a warped sense of justice developed over years I won't bore you by describing. He is probably waiting to see if you will discover the switch, and if you don't, he will feel quite comfortable in returning the original to me. His loyalty is commendable, even if his morals aren't. I will see that the necklace is returned."

"Oh dear, do you think we ought—" Marian's question was interrupted by the arrival of the duke and Reginald's brother. The plight of the valet was momentarily forgotten as the two new arrivals discovered the cloaked figure in the shadows.

"Ahh, you are chaperoned. Lady Grace was concerned." The duke sent Marian and Reginald a laughing glance, then turned his attention back to the man in the shadows. "Have I had the pleasure?"

"Effingham. I believe your invitation was open?" The voice behind the hood was gruff.

Delight crossed the young duke's face. "Effingham! I should have known you would be here to look out for your cousin's interests. I don't suppose you have time to discuss those artifacts you mentioned in your letters? Or if we could meet at my club tomorrow...?"

Charles grimaced and turned to the young couple he had come seeking. "The two of you had better make an appearance in the ballroom before the gossips have you half way to Scotland. Lady Grace is losing that beautiful patience of hers."

"Oh, but we must tell the marquess—"

Reginald caught Marian's arm. "We don't need to tell the marquess anything. He hasn't proven he can be trusted any more than his valet." He started toward the ballroom doors.

Unimpeded by the British etiquette of dealing with a duke, the marquess abruptly ended his conversation to step in front of them, halting their progress. "Why is it I get the impression the lady has been trying to tell me something?"

"Because the lady is of a more pleasant temperament than I am. Considering the scolds she is capable of giving, I never thought to say that, but the truth will out. If you will excuse us, the lady owes me several dances." Reginald started around the caped figure blocking his way.

Charles coughed discreetly. "I say, Reggie, you might at least make a proper introduction before you leave me out here."

Reginald scowled. "Gavin Lawrence, Marquess of Effingham; Charles Montague, Viscount Witham. Now, if you'll excuse us—"

Since the marquess was again blocking their escape, Charles tried to smooth the social waters. "Effingham! I was hoping we would have a chance to meet before the nuptials. Where are you staying? I would like to pay my addresses on the morrow, if I might."

There was a note of harassment in the American's voice as he tried to fend off a duke and a viscount determined to do their duties while keeping an eye on the young couple who looked decidedly guilty of something. "I'm only here for the evening to look in on my cousin. Marian, if you would, I'd like to have a word with you."

Marian sent Reginald a questioning look. Pleased that she turned to him for his opinion rather than giving in to her cousin, Reginald managed an almost conciliatory reply. "He will come to no harm where he is. I will hand him over to your cousin as soon as I have the necklace in my hands again, I promise."

The duke and the viscount looked vaguely bemused when the marquess grabbed for Reginald's cravat at this seemingly irrelevant comment.

"Where is he, Montague? What have you done to him? He's not much of a brother, but he's the only one I have. I'll deal with him, not you."

Reginald caught the man's wrists at his throat and twisted. A popping noise of bone rubbing bone forced the marquess to jerk from his captor's grasp and curl his hands into a fist. Before he could throw the punch, the duke and Charles caught his arms.