To Pleasure a Prince (27 page)

With a sigh, he took her hand. “Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t think so.” He hesitated, but the voices of Regina and the Iversleys clamored in his ear, demanding that she know everything. “But I think the prince believes it.”

Her hand tightened on his. “Is that why you asked if Simon had told me? Because he’s the prince’s friend?”

He winced. “Yes.”

“And is that why you mentioned Simon carrying me off to Carlton House, the night you and Regina were caught together?”

He’d forgotten about that. “Yes.”

Her hand began to tremble. “You think Simon and the prince are up to something having to do with me. That’s why you don’t approve of Simon.”

“I…um…”

“And Regina knows, too, doesn’t she? She was so adamant that we wait two years, and I thought she was merely taking your side, but then the other night she was so angry at Simon for—” She groaned. “Saying that he loved me.” Her eyes filled with tears again. “He doesn’t, does he? He said he did, but he doesn’t.”

“I don’t think so, no.”

“And you knew all along?” she asked, turning an angry gaze on him. “You let me make a fool of myself over him, while all the time—”

“I didn’t know for sure. Regina had me half-convinced he was sincere. She believed he was sincere herself, until the night at Almack’s. And then—”

“Then what?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I want to know every detail. I deserve to know what’s been going on while I’ve been acting like a fool.”

Tears still glistened in her eyes, but now they were angry tears. She looked exactly like their mother had looked the day Marcus had thrown her out. God help Foxmoor now. Perhaps Marcus wouldn’t have to seek vengeance on the man, after all—Louisa might take care of it herself.

“I don’t know all of it,” he began, “only what Regina managed to wheedle out of her brother that night, but according to her…” He explained about the prince and his plans to bring Louisa to court.

With every word, her spine straightened, and her eyes glittered more brightly, until he was sure she would turn into one of the Furies any minute, flying out across England to tear Foxmoor’s head off. Marcus hoped he got to watch.

“And no one saw fit to tell me this,” she bit out. “Even Regina kept it secret.”

The hint of betrayal in her voice made him say hastily, “She had good reason, angel.” He explained what Foxmoor had threatened, and she paled.

“Oh, Lord, the man is truly despicable!” She glared at him. “And don’t say what you’re thinking. Yes, you were right about him, I admit it. But if I had known even a fraction of this—”

“I didn’t have any proof until recently,” he said defensively.

“Yes, but you had reasons for your opinions, which you were apparently voicing freely to everybody but me. And all because you didn’t want me to know about my dubious parentage.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, I know now. The only thing I don’t know is how much of this ‘courtship’ was plotted by His Highness.”

Marcus stared at her blankly. “All of it, I imagine.”

“Not all of it. Yes, the prince might have wanted me at court, but did he tell Simon to kiss me and say he loved me and—”

“He
kissed
you?” Marcus growled, coming up out of his chair. “I’ll tear the bastard limb from limb!”

“You will not.” She rose, too. “We can finally hold our heads up in society, and you are
not
going to ruin that.”

“Pardon me?” he ground out. When had his sweet sister turned so fierce?

“I think Simon deserves a punishment more fitting to his crime.”

“And what exactly might that be?” he asked warily.

Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, I have an idea. But first I need some information. And if His Highness would go to such great lengths to bring me to court, I think he ought to explain himself to my face, don’t you?”

“Certainly not.”

“Hear me out, Marcus. I have a right to know how much of this whole fiasco was due to His Highness’s plotting and how much to Simon’s ambition.”

Her hard tone made him uneasy. “I suppose.”

“I want to meet with the prince. And I want Simon there. Regina, too, since I trust her to say honestly—before His Highness—what her brother revealed to her.”

His heart thundered in his ears. “The only way I’ll allow a meeting between you, Foxmoor, my wife, and His Confounded Highness is if I’m there, too.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He eyed her closely. “Is this some sly way of trying to effect a reconciliation between me and Regina?”

“No.” Her tone softened. “But if I could do it, I would. Her brother might be despicable, but she is not. You’re not letting her association with Simon keep you apart, are you?”

“No.”

“You can trust her, you know.
I
trust her, even after what you told me. She’s never made a promise to me that she didn’t keep, and she’s never lied to me. And I wager if you search your heart, you’ll realize it’s true for you, too.”

He thought back on everything that had happened between him and Regina. Even when she was keeping the truth from him about Foxmoor, she’d never lied. And he couldn’t blame her for her evasions about her inability to read. God knew he’d been evasive as hell about his own past.

He might never be able to trust La Belle Dame Sans Merci, but Regina was
not
La Belle Dame Sans Merci. She showed mercy every time she overlooked his bad temper. She showed mercy every time she argued with him on Louisa’s behalf.

She showed mercy when she said she loved a surly, overprotective idiot unfit to share her air, much less her bed. The question was, did she have any mercy left in her heart for him? After what he’d done to her? After what he’d said? Did he even have the right to
ask
for her mercy?

“In fact,” Louisa added softly, “I’ll wager that you love her. And that’s the most important thing.”

He stared past her to the place at the other end of the dining table where Regina would sit as his wife. If she were here. If he hadn’t driven her away. “I’m not sure I know how to love, Louisa.”

She took his hand. “Don’t be silly. Loving is easy. It’s finding someone to love you back that’s hard.”

Out of the mouths of babes.

She pressed his hand to her heart. “And since you’ve got the hard part done, the least you can do is love her. Because she does love you.” She cast him an impish smile. “Although I’m not entirely sure
why.”

He tried to laugh, but nothing came out. “Damned if
I
know why.”

Did
Regina still love him? She’d said she would be waiting when he came to his senses, but that had been days ago. Before she’d had time to harden her heart against him, to recognize what a beast she’d married.

It would be just like him to discover what was wrong with his life too late to do anything about it. Like a fool, he’d thrown away the best woman he’d ever known, because he’d been too busy trying not to follow in Father’s footsteps.

Trying to keep her from leaving him. But when he’d let his temper get the better of him, he’d given her no choice except to do just that.

Now that she’d seen the worst of him, would she even want to return? To live with him, here or in town or anywhere else? Not if she had an ounce of sense. Too late, he understood what she’d meant when she’d called Castlemaine a prison. Because any place could be a prison if you were there alone, and not by choice.

“Marcus?” Louisa said gently. “Do you think you could set up a meeting between Uncle George, Simon, Regina, and you and me?”

He sighed. “I could. It might take a day or two, though.”

She let out a heavy breath.
“Will
you, then? Will you give me the chance to have my revenge on Simon?”

How he wanted to say no, to keep Louisa locked up here safe. But now he knew what a mistake that was. For Louisa
and
his wife. He wasn’t sure he could do anything about Regina. But it wasn’t too late to do right by his sister.

“Yes, angel. You shall have your meeting.”

Perhaps then even his wife might find some mercy in her heart for him.

Feeling a certain fondness for your charge is perfectly acceptable as long as it doesn’t cloud your judgment.

—Miss Cicely Tremaine,
The Ideal Chaperone

I
t was late in the afternoon when Regina, Cicely, and Katherine sat around the table in the immaculate Iversley schoolroom. Regina pored over a poem by one of Katherine’s favorite poets. A set of carved wooden alphabet blocks were arrayed in front of her.

Regina worked at sounding out the first line. “I…wa-…wa—”

“This is too difficult,” Cicely exclaimed.

“No, it isn’t.” Regina rubbed her fingers over the block with the raised letter that most looked like the next letter. “Oh, ‘n.’ That’s right—it looks like an ‘u’ sometimes, but it’s not.”

For some reason,
feeling
the letters made it easier for her to identify them. She didn’t know why, but after discovering it that day at Castlemaine, she’d known it was the only way she’d ever learn. It helped that both Katherine and Cicely were infinitely patient with her.

She took a breath. “I wan-…wan-dered…l-l-lonely—Lonely?”

Katherine nodded.

Regina’s head throbbed, but she soldiered on. Katherine’s cook had offered a posset that helped when the headache got too bad. But it seemed less painful as the days passed. She was getting used to it, just as Marcus had predicted.

She winced. She
wouldn’t
think of Marcus, not now, not when she’d come so far. Otherwise, she’d start crying, and her head would throb even more. She’d been trying to save her tears for her bed at night.

She didn’t get much sleep.

“ ‘I wandered lonely…as…a…clou-…clou—” Oh, no, more of those pesky d’s. Or b’s. But “cloub” didn’t make sense, so…“ ‘Cloud.’ ‘I wandered lonely as a cloud’?”

Katherine beamed at her. “That’s it. You’ve got it!”

Regina blinked. “I read a sentence from a real poem? Not a primer?”

“Not a primer,” Katherine echoed.

“And I read it by myself.” Hardly able to contain her excitement, Regina leaped from the chair and did a pirouette. “I read a sentence by myself! From a real poem!”

Laughing, Katherine leaped up, too, and they danced around like two schoolgirls. Until Regina glanced over to see Cicely crying quietly, tears streaming down her pale cheeks.

Regina stopped dancing to rush to Cicely’s side. “Dearest, what is wrong? Is it your lungs?”

“No…N-No…” Cicely stammered through her sobs. “A-All these years…you could…have learned.” She dabbed futilely at the flow with the voluminous handkerchief she always had at the ready. “I should…I should have taught you.” She grabbed Regina’s hand and squeezed it painfully. “I failed you. I should never have listened to that doctor. Perhaps then—”

Her heartfelt wail started Regina’s own tears flowing. “Oh, dearest, no. Don’t blame yourself.” She enfolded the older woman in her arms. “I listened to the doctor, too. We both listened. It’s not your fault.”

“It is! You were a child. I was supposed to take care of you!”

“And you
did.
You have always been the perfect teacher and companion.”

“But I should have done better.” Cicely wiped her nose, then started to cry again. “It’s just that…I was so afraid of your being hurt. I never got to have children, and you were such a sweet, fragile mite…I couldn’t have borne it…if anything had happened to you. And the doctor did say—”

“Shh,” Regina murmured, clutching Cicely tight. “I know you always had my best interests at heart.”

Cicely drew back to fix her with a rheumy-eyed gaze. “It’s my fault you had to marry that ogre. If not for me—”

“It’s not your fault in the least, and he’s not an ogre.” Regina patted her cousin’s hand. “Truly, dearest, once you get to know him, you will see that he’s a very good man. Just a little pigheaded sometimes.”

“Aren’t they all?” Katherine said, taking a seat beside them.

Regina glanced at her sister-in-law. “Do they grow less pigheaded in time?”

“Not really. You just learn to get around it.” Katherine smiled. “And they do make up for it in other ways.”

Regina’s answering smile was forced. Although she dearly missed having Marcus in her bed, more than that, she missed his cleverness, his dogged persistence…his outrageousness. She never knew what to expect from him. Every rout, every ball, every party she attended now seemed dull. These days she’d much rather sit here with Cicely and Katherine, struggling through one sentence, than spend an afternoon listening to a lot of idiots converse about the weather.

Oh, Lord, now she even sounded like Marcus. But four days had passed, and she began to worry that he might never come round. Had her defiance been too much for him to accept? Was her marriage to become one of those awful arrangements where her husband lived in the country and she lived in town and they had separate lives?

She couldn’t bear the thought.

A knock came outside the open door to the schoolroom, then a footman thrust his head inside. “My lady? There’s a letter here for Lady Draker. I thought she might want it right away, seeing as how it’s from his lordship.”

Regina blushed. Their argument had been heard by every servant in the house, a mortification she’d had to live with for days. And if Marcus had sent a letter…that couldn’t be good.

Katherine bade the servant enter to give Regina the letter. When Regina took it, it was heavier than she would have thought. Her heart sinking, she broke the seal and opened it. Two keys fell into her lap.

Perplexed, she stared at the letter, one short sheet of Marcus’s bold scrawl.

“Shall I read it for you?” Cicely asked.

She wanted desperately to say no. Much as she loved and trusted her cousin—and Katherine, too—she hated having either of them read something so personal. But it would take her half a day at least to puzzle it out herself, especially with Marcus’s poor penmanship. Besides, he had to know she’d be asking Cicely to read it. So it couldn’t be terribly personal.

Her heart sank further. “Yes, please read it,” she told Cicely, handing it over.

Donning her spectacles, Cicely began to read. “ ‘Dear wife, I heard that you are staying with my friends. Forgive me for not making it clear, but I never intended for you to be without a home. I’m enclosing the keys to the town house. You may go there with Cicely if you wish.”

Regina moaned. “He’s making this banishment permanent, drat him.”

“I don’t think so,” Cicely said hastily. “He writes, ‘Please tell the servants to prepare the house for Louisa and me. We’re arriving in town tomorrow.’ ”

Regina’s heart began to race. Had he come to his senses? But then why send a letter and not come here himself?

“Tomorrow?” Katherine exclaimed. “He thinks he can just trot into town as if nothing happened, and you will welcome him with open arms?”

“There’s more,” Cicely said. But before she could go on, an irate voice sounded from downstairs.

“I don’t care what the devil you say—I know she’s here. Now call my sishter…sister…down here this minute, or I’ll bloody well…I’ll bloody well…I’ll go looking for her.”

“Oh, dear,” Cicely muttered. “Simon is here.”

Katherine frowned. “He sounds drunk, too.”

“Regina!” Simon called up the stairs. “Damn you, Regina, come down here!”

“Drunk or insane,” Regina muttered as she rose and hurried to the door. She moved to the stairs and glowered down at her brother. “Go away!”

Simon stumbled up a step. “I’m not going ’way until you tell me what’s going on.”

He
was
drunk, for heaven’s sake. And Simon rarely drank at all. Two footmen appeared to grab his arms, and he began to struggle. “Let go of me, you asses! I’m here on state business. State business, I tell you!”

State business?

They started dragging him toward the door.

“It’s all right,” Regina said. “Let him go.” This was too odd to ignore, especially on the heels of Marcus’s announcement that he was coming to town.

The footmen released him, and Simon steadied himself clumsily, straightening his coat and grumbling under his breath.

She continued down the stairs. “What are you doing here, Simon? I thought you had gone to the country.”

“Because of what Iversley said? Hell, no. I’m not running away. Let your bloody husband call me out. Just let him. I’ll take his bloody head off.”

“You’re not capable of taking anyone’s head off at the moment.” Grabbing him by the arm, she steered him to the parlor.

“Fetch His Grace some cold water,” she called out to a footman. Perhaps if she dunked his head in it—

“I’m fine.” He snatched his arm away. “I can walk by myself, damn it. And why are you here? You’re supposed to be keeping your bloody husband occupied.”

“Unfortunately, that became impossible after you tried to abduct his sister,” she said coldly. “That’s when he got angry and banished me from his home.”

“What?” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Can’t be. You’re supposed to come, too. And that wouldn’t make sense. Not if he’s angry.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she muttered, unable to make any sense out of his ramblings. She waited until they were in the parlor and he was sprawled upon a settee before she tried to get anything more out of him. “Now, what’s this about me going somewhere?”

“To Carlton House. For a meeting. With your husband and Louisa.”

Katherine appeared in the doorway. “He’s right. Marcus’s letter says that he hopes you’ll allow him to accompany you tomorrow afternoon to Carlton House for a private meeting with His Highness and Louisa.”

“And me,” Simon snapped. “What’s going on? What does Draker have up his sleeve now, damn it?”

“I have no idea.” Her mind was reeling. Marcus hadn’t seen the prince in years and had been adamant about never allowing Louisa into His Highness’s presence. So what could it possibly mean?

“Did the letter say anything else?” she asked Katherine.

Like
I love you?
Or even
forgive me?

Cicely appeared behind Katherine. “No. I’m sorry.”

“Draker means to ruin me with His Highness, I know it,” Simon grumbled. “That’s why he’s taking Louisa there. And if she tells the prince about—” He closed his eyes. “God save me, I’m in trouble.”

“Good. You deserve it.”

All Regina could think about was Marcus. What this meant for their marriage. What he was trying to tell her with this cursory note, if anything.

She turned to her brother. “Did you come in the phaeton?”

“Certainly.”

“And I suppose you drove yourself? Good.” She headed for the door. “I’m taking the phaeton.”

“What?” He stumbled to his feet and nearly tripped over a tea table. “You can’t—”

“You’re in no condition to be tooling it about town anyway, and I mean to go to Castlemaine this instant.”

“Have you ever driven a phaeton?” Katherine asked.

“Simon has let me take the reins a few times, yes.”

Katherine lifted one eyebrow. “Perhaps you ought to wait until Alec returns from Tattersall’s and let him take you out there in the carriage.”

“No, indeed.” She swept past Katherine and Cicely. “If I show up alone, Marcus will not dare to bar me from the house. He wouldn’t want me driving back to town in the dark by myself.”

“You don’t really think he’s going to hold to that threat now, do you?” Katherine asked as she followed her into the hall.

“I truly have no idea. After his note and the keys…” She let the footman help her into her coat. “I only know I cannot sit here another minute wondering what he’s thinking. I have to end this, once and for all.”

But as Regina headed off in the phaeton, she couldn’t settle her taut nerves. It was a long two hours to Castlemaine, and she fretted over every mile. By giving her the keys to the town house, was Marcus acknowledging her freedom? Or asking for his own? Why hadn’t he come himself?

Then again, the man was so cursedly proud, he could never admit he was wrong. Perhaps this meeting with the prince was meant to be his final denouncement of the man and all his friends, Regina and Simon included.

But he was taking Louisa with him, and he’d been so adamant about not telling her the truth. Had he changed his mind? Or had she figured it out? Or might both of them now be bent on vengeance against His Highness and all his friends, Regina and Simon included? Except that he meant to stay in the town house with her, and that made no sense if it was vengeance he wanted.

By the time she reached Castlemaine, she’d worked herself up into a state of high dudgeon. So help him, if he had told his butler to bar her from the place, she would drive the phaeton right through the halls of his precious Castlemaine and have the horses dance on his head!

But no one made a murmur as she drew up in front. A startled groom hurried to take her reins and help her down. An equally startled footman opened the door, and a distinctly ruffled butler met her in the hall.

It suddenly occurred to her that she had never been formally introduced to Marcus’s staff. The last time she’d spoken to the butler, upon her first visit to Castlemaine, he actually
had
tried to bar her from the place.

She didn’t even know his name. “I…um…am Lady Draker.”

The butler colored deeply. “Yes, I know, my lady. Young James here will take your coat.” He gestured to the gawking footman, who scurried to do his duty.

She let out a breath. “I need to speak to my husband. Do you know if he’s here?”

“Yes, my lady. He asked not to be disturbed, but…well…he went down to the dungeon about two hours ago, carrying a bottle of Irish whisky and a painting, and frankly, I’m a bit worried.”

He wasn’t the only one worried. The dungeon couldn’t be good for anyone, but especially not a man who’d once spent three days in it.

Then the butler’s other words sank in. “He went down there with a painting?”

“I’m afraid so, my lady. That horrible one of a dragon by Mr. Blake.” He leaned close. “We all hate it. It’s very ugly. But his lordship insists on keeping it in his bedchamber—except when he takes it to the dungeon. Whenever he’s in a foul mood.”

“Right.” He’d once mentioned going to the dungeon to vent his temper. If he’d been closeted down there for two hours, it must be some temper. She swallowed. “All the same, I believe I should go down there.”