Page 3 of A Marquess of No Importance (Inglorious Scoundrels #3)

M elissande returned to her office and tossed her cloak over the chair by the hearth, shuddering from either the cold or the memories of her confrontation with the beast of Rivendale.

She had always thought of herself as a creature of darkness, but the way the shadows clung to his form, he might as well have commanded them.

No matter… She’d accomplished her mission.

Somewhat.

She had handed him the invitation, and he had accepted it, though he had all but thrown her out of his house. She had fled with her tail tucked between her legs.

He was a frightening man, Melissande had to admit.

Tall, broad-shouldered, and imposing, there was a menacing glint in his eyes and a strange tick in his right cheek. When he scowled, it seemed as if one side of his face never moved, making him look even more sinister.

Melissande wasn’t used to being afraid.

She had grown up as the princess of London’s underbelly. However frightening the men outside her home were, the men surrounding her—protecting her—were scarier.

To the outside world. Not to her.

To her, they were her father, her grandfather, her uncles, and later, her brothers. They were her friends, her allies, her servants, her guards.

She was never afraid to step into the den of thieves because everyone knew that anyone who so much as touched a hair on her head would lose a hand.

She was not afraid of the aristocracy either. If they disrespected her, they would lose the privileges of Hades’ Hell forever, and nobody was bold enough to risk it.

But she had never been one-on-one with an aristocratic man in his house. His domain. Surrounded only by his servants. Alone .

Somehow, she’d never thought the experience would be so unsettling, if not frightening.

Yet it wasn’t just the man himself. His house was dark, dank… empty. It felt as if no one truly lived there, as if it were occupied by ghosts with visitors chained in the empty rooms above.

Now she was being fanciful.

Her imagination must have been stirred by all the Gothic novels she had read. Her great-grandmother had been a writer, after all. Perhaps she had inherited some of that fanciful mind.

Melissande toyed with the ruby ring at her thumb, tracing the Celtic knots that curled around the stone.

It was a symbol of her abandonment and her deep-seated hatred for the aristocracy.

Her half-brother, whom she had just met about a week ago, had given her this heirloom of the Thornton family in exchange for saving the reputation of his beloved, Lydia, the thief she had initially enlisted to steal the ring.

But it sat uncomfortably on her finger. Something she had fought so hard to possess didn’t even feel like it belonged to her.

“Well?” Theo poked her head into the office, her chestnut-brown hair appearing almost red in the firelight. “How was the meeting with the beast?”

Melissande pulled the ring off her finger and rested it on the table while she removed her gloves. “As could be expected.”

Theo raised an eyebrow. “Was it that terrible then?”

Melissande let out a shaky laugh. She was adept at hiding her thoughts and feelings from most of the world, but not from those closest to her. She slipped the ring back onto her thumb.

Theo walked into the room and settled into the chair opposite her.

“No, it wasn’t terrible,” Melissande said, absently shifting the papers scattered across her desk. “He accepted the invitation after a bit of coaxing, although he seems uninterested in ever visiting the hell.”

“An aristocrat?” Theo’s forehead wrinkled in disbelief. “One who isn’t willing to gamble his fortune away? How peculiar.”

Both Theo and Melissande harbored a similar contempt for the aristocracy, rooted in their fathers’ actions.

Melissande’s had tricked her mother into falling in love and then abandoned her once she got with child, while Theo’s father had squandered the family’s fortunes, leaving them destitute and forcing Theo to fend for herself.

With her analytical mind and strategic thinking, Theo refused to be reduced to a governess. But no aristocrat—nay, no man—would hire her for anything else.

Melissande was the first person to recognize Theo’s intelligence and consider her suitable for the role of a bookkeeper. And after a brief interview, she quickly snapped her up, making her not just a bookkeeper but also her right-hand woman in running the gaming hell.

“Perhaps he didn’t appreciate that I came to his house uninvited.”

“That couldn’t be it,” Theo said with a teasing smile. “Any man would be delighted to have that happen.”

Melissande wrinkled her nose. “He didn’t seem very delighted when he ordered me to get out of his house.”

Theo’s mouth fell open momentarily before she pursed her lips shut. “He threw you out without hearing what you had to say?”

“Oh, no, he heard me.” Melissande stood and walked toward a window. “Against his will, might I add. But there was this palpable tension in him throughout my visit.”

She touched the plant tucked in the corner of the windowsill. The poor thing needed some water.

Theo frowned. “Perhaps he isn’t impressed by the fact that a woman is the proprietress of a gaming hell? If that’s his only issue, he’ll be strolling through the doors in a few weeks once his battle between pride and desire to gamble at the most infamous gaming hell in the country is settled.”

Melissande sighed as she poured water from a nearby pitcher into a glass, then tipped it over the dry soil of the long-limbed cactus. “I don’t have weeks.”

“You have months.” Theo paused, narrowing her eyes. “Is that poor plant still alive?”

Melissande grimaced. “It looks alive.”

“When did you water it last?”

“When I remembered it last.” Melissande shrugged and sank back into her chair behind the desk. “And three months isn’t enough if I won’t see a man for weeks at a time.”

“Oh, please.” Theo flicked her hand in airy dismissal. “You can seduce a man faster than you can kill a cactus.”

Melissande snorted a laugh before her mood turned somber.

She had rarely truly needed to seduce anyone. Men seemed to fall at her feet with just a smile. Of course, it had something to do with her notoriety, her coquettish laugh, and her fortune.

Men professed love to her after less than a week of knowing her and asked to court her after a single meeting. That’s why she was so cocky and confident in the wager she’d set.

“It’s not me that’s the issue,” she said bitterly.

“It’s the marquess, who seems immune to my charm…

or any charm, for that matter.” But wasn’t that what she wanted?

A challenge. Just a few nights ago, at her own masquerade no less, hadn’t she boasted that she could seduce even the coldest man alive and make him fall hopelessly in love with her?

“What does he look like?” Theo asked, and an involuntary shiver ran through Melissande.

“He is… I haven’t had a chance to study him properly—”

“Oh, please,” Theo interrupted with a flick of her wrist. “You notice everything.”

“I do. But it was dark; the only light came from the sconces on the wall behind him, throwing shadows across his face. In that light, he seemed…” She paused, contemplating whether to reveal her true feelings, and decided to proceed. “Frightening.”

Theo leaned back in her chair. “Interesting. I don’t think you’ve ever described anyone that way, not even the worst criminals you’ve encountered.”

Melissande grimaced. “Those criminals were never frightening or even menacing to me. Just repulsive.”

“Huh.” Theo studied Melissande with a curious gaze, and Melissande shifted uncomfortably under her friend’s careful scrutiny.

“Who dared to frighten you?” A harsh but almost melodic voice sounded from the threshold, carrying the faint lilt of his Welsh roots.

Melissande turned toward the door and saw Gareth Owens’ hulking form blocking it. Gareth was her guard, a croupier, and anything else she needed him to be, including a close friend. If Theo was her right hand, then Gareth was her left.

Cerberus, Gareth’s large, dark-coated mastiff, barged into the room and approached Melissande, his tail wagging.

“No one,” Melissande said, immediately reaching for the pup.

“Rivendale,” Theo said at the same time.

Melissande rolled her eyes at her friend.

“It’s no secret that you’re trying to seduce him.” Theo lifted her shoulder in a shrug.

“And you’re still going to do that after he frightened you?” Gareth stepped inside the room, his voice dropping an octave lower, a slight growl rattling his words. His R’s were more pronounced now, his accent showing more when he was less controlled, more emotional. “What did he do?”

“Nothing.” Melissande didn’t look up, her attention absorbed by Bear—that’s what everyone called Cerberus. Derived from the second syllable of his name, it became a popular nickname since it reflected his massive stature and spotted brown coat.

“He yelled at her to get out,” Theo jumped in again.

“Theo!” Both Melissande and Bear turned toward her.

“Don’t tell me things if you want to lie about them later,” her friend replied, pursing her lips to suppress a smile, her hands raised by her sides in mock surrender.

“Woof,” Bear agreed.

“Traitor,” Melissande muttered, though she continued scratching behind Bear’s ear as he lay his head on her lap. “He didn’t yell, but he was rude. And he has a… rough demeanor, if you will.”

“What does that mean?” Gareth approached her desk, resting his hip against it and crossing his arms over his chest, a frown marring his weathered face.

“It means he’s rude and uncouth—”

“Rude and uncouth are the same thing,” Theo interrupted.

“Do you want to tell the story?” Melissande playfully snapped at her friend, causing Bear to give her a sidelong glance as he whimpered. “Because it seems like you do.” She continued patting the dog, and he relaxed against her lap.

Theo rose gracefully from her chair with a chuckle. “Very well, spin your tale as you like. I won’t interfere any longer.” She turned to leave but paused mid-motion. “Tell me this one thing, though. Is he good-looking?”

Melissande found herself caught off guard by the question.

Was he? His face had been shadowed, but what she’d seen wasn’t awful to look at.

There was a strange asymmetry to his features, as if one part didn’t move or age or…

something. Something was off, and it made him look unsettling. But was he handsome?

He was tall and statuesque, holding himself with regal poise like any aristocrat, she supposed.

And his body—well, that wasn’t the question, was it?

His body was rather enticing, she had to be honest with herself.

She wouldn’t mind running her hands along his chest and up his shoulders.

His breeches tightly hugged his thighs, and it had taken all her willpower not to stare indecently at his crotch, though she couldn’t see much in the dark.

She had rarely, if ever, had lascivious thoughts about men in this way.

She was not a blushing maiden; she was the proprietress of a hell and a brothel. She was surrounded by handsome, beautifully sculpted men all the time. Her friend Gareth was one such specimen, if not the finest of them all.

But she had never desired to see what he looked like under his clothes.

Of course, she’d jested with men and flirted with them frequently, hinting at the possibility of bedsport, but she rarely meant it.

This time was different.

She was frightened by him yet also drawn to him.

Was she truly frightened? Or was she merely unsettled by the feelings he had evoked in her?

It was strange. She had seen him for all of five minutes and barely remembered his face.

She had heard his voice, though. And what a beautiful voice it was—low, smooth, smoky, with a hint of a growl. Was she attracted to his voice? Was he like a siren beckoning her closer, only to shatter her over his rigid, unyielding edges?

Whatever it was, she was certain that once she saw him in the light of day and spoke to him for more than five minutes, the infatuation—if that’s what it was—would disappear.

“No,” she finally answered. “I do not think he is good-looking. But I wouldn’t call him plain or unsightly either.”

Theo and Gareth exchanged a curious glance.

“What would you call him then?” Gareth prodded.

Melissande thought for a beat and licked her lips. “My next conquest.”

Theo let out a laugh and exited the room.

A moment of silence followed as Melissande tried to recall exactly what Rivendale looked like and wondered what it was about him that was so enticing.

Gareth studied her in the meantime, patiently waiting for her attention to return to him. “Now, tell me the truth,” he asked when she finally looked at him once again. “Do you think you ventured out of your depth in this case?”

“No,” she replied with a scoff, putting on the confidence she didn’t genuinely feel. “I am completely in control.”

He sighed. “You know you don’t have to make these otsensatious wagers—”

“Ostentatious,” she corrected with a smile.

“Aye, that,” Gareth agreed with a good-natured chuckle, then added with a shrug, “I heard you use the word the other day. I still don’t know what it means, but it seems to fit.”

“It means making a spectacle of oneself precisely so that others will notice.”

He huffed and nodded, looking very satisfied with himself, then grinned. “That’s exactly what I meant. You know you don’t have to do this. You can always just live a quiet… simple life like the rest of your family.” He paused. “Perhaps start a family of your own.”

Melissande swallowed. This wasn’t the first time Gareth had suggested something like this to her. And she knew the meaning beneath his words. She could start a family with him .

He didn’t duck his head or avert his gaze, but she did. She had to.

They were friends. Good friends. Best friends.

And she knew that no matter what, Gareth would always be there for her, and she would always be there for him.

She loved him. She truly did.

Just not in the way Gareth wanted her to.

“You know that’s not in my nature,” she finally said with a soft smile.

“Fine.” He clapped a hand against his knee and got up. Bear whimpered and raised his head, his tail wagging, ready to follow his master out the door. “I see you’re not going to back down. What are you going to do next, then?”

Melissande paused in thought, then a lazy smile tugged at her lips. “Knock the breath out of him.”