Page 17 of A Whisper Of Desire (The Disgraced Lords #4)

Chapter Eight

S usan finished pinning the last curl on her head and Marisa gave her a warm smile.

She was excited about the ball. It was her first appearance as the Duchess of Lyttleton and she was looking forward to conversing with her friends.

There would be awkward questions about Rutherford, but she and Helen had come up with a story.

She was tired of waiting for Lord Rutherford to make up his mind, and Maitland came in and swept her off her feet.

She fell head over heels in love with him.

Not quite as much of a lie as it may seem.

She had a feeling she was falling for him; even if one day and one night of marriage was not long enough to be sure.

Her earlier talk with Beatrice had been rather disappointing.

Beatrice said the night of their wedding she and Sebastian discussed how the marriage should work.

She suggested Marisa sit down and talk to Maitland about what she desired in the marriage.

If sharing his bed each night was important to her, then she should make him realize that.

A chance to talk with Maitland would be a fine thing. By the time she’d taken tea with Helen and Beatrice, then met with the staff and let Mrs. Heyer, the housekeeper, introduce her to the large house, she’d had to hurry with her toiletry in order to be ready for the ball.

Taking on her duties gave her the courage to do what must be done.

She had to grow up and take half the responsibility for this marriage.

Maitland couldn’t read her mind. She would have to explain to him what she desired.

The idea of coaxing a man who kept his emotions on a tight rein to reveal his feelings did not sit well in her stomach.

It was fluttering as if she’d swallowed a buzzing bee.

She made her way to the staircase and was about to descend, when she spied Maitland waiting for her in the entrance hall. He was pacing, slapping his gloves against his thigh. He looked like a caged panther, dark and sleek, with suppressed power and hidden danger.

Her heart quivered as she soaked in the vision of potent masculinity below.

Why had she never noticed how broad his shoulders were, how his black hair gleamed in the light and how the curls beckoned her fingers to tug them?

She felt a jolt down to her toes. Her breath faltered and a buzzing began in her ears.

At that moment he looked up and his frown disappeared and a genuine smile lit his face as he watched her descend. He was so handsome. She was a lucky woman.

He moved to greet her at the bottom of the stairs, placing a kiss on her cheek.

“I will be proud to escort such a beautiful woman tonight, and to share with the ton how lucky I am to have you as my wife.” His husky voice sent heat licking over her skin.

“What a lovely thing to say, thank you. You look very handsome tonight yourself.”

He tucked her hand over his arm and escorted her to his carriage. As they settled on the squabs, Marisa asked, “What are you going to tell people about our rushed wedding? No doubt Lady Dunmire has told, well, everyone.”

“I will say it was a prudent choice to align two great families. No one will raise an eyebrow at the logic of this match.”

“So romantic.”

He looked at her as if she were a child. “A duke does not marry for love. There are far more important considerations. If we try to say it’s a love match no one will believe it. They will think we are hiding some big scandal.”

She turned away to look out of the carriage window. She looked at the houses they passed, wondering at the couples that lived in them. Were the couples that lived there happy? Were they marriages of convenience or were they homes filled with love? Finally she turned to look at her husband.

“Rutherford is likely to be there. Do you think he will cause a scene?”

“I doubt it. He’s young and he never formally proposed, and if we appear happy, no one will think it strange that you accepted me instead. I am a duke and he merely a marquess in waiting.”

She would like a quiet word with Rutherford. The cad. The one thing she did know was she was better off being married to Maitland, a man who didn’t love her but respected her, than to Rutherford, a man who simply disrespected everything about her.

She held tightly to Maitland’s arm as they waited at the top of the stairs to be announced at Lord and Lady Hutchinson’s ball.

When the butler announced the Duke and Duchess of Lyttleton, it appeared that the chatting below stopped and all heads turned their way.

The moment of stillness passed as quickly as it came, and by the time they reached the ballroom floor the couple was surrounded by well-wishers, including Beatrice and Sebastian, Hadley and Helen, and Arend.

“I will see you for the first waltz and I’d like to take you into supper,” Maitland said before he added, “The men and I will be in the card room, should you require me for anything.”

With that, the men left the ladies and Marisa was free to answer all the questions about her unexpected marriage from the other young ladies who’d been debutantes with her.

Most of them had become engaged or married during the season and didn’t see anything out of the ordinary about her brother insisting she marry his friend the duke.

Her dance card, as usual, quickly filled up.

Maitland dutifully arrived for the first waltz and she found it difficult to focus on her steps.

The feel of his arms about her sent images racing into her head of the things he’d done to her last night.

She looked forward to more of the same tonight, and scandalously she’d moved closer to him as he’d twirled her around the floor, his powerful thighs feeling solid through the thin silk of her dress.

For one moment she thought she’d felt something else solid pushing against her stomach when they briefly brushed each other.

Her face had heated, while Maitland had shown no reaction at all. She must have imagined it.

Later, a few of her friends, including Helen, decided to escape onto the terrace for a breath of fresh night air before supper was called.

Marisa was content to lean against the balustrade and listen to the excited chatter.

Helen was the current topic of conversation, with her friends trying to wangle who had taken her fancy.

Marisa smiled at Helen’s skilled deflection.

She knew her sister harbored a crush on Lord Fullerton.

Her heart ached because she thought Hadley a decent man, but he was totally oblivious to Helen’s crush, and because of that he inadvertently encouraged her feelings.

She wondered if she should have a word with him or, better yet, get Maitland to have a word.

Lost in thought, wondering if there was a way she could bring Hadley and Helen together, she didn’t hear the footsteps approach until a whiff of sandalwood invaded her nostrils. She knew that scent, and if she were a cat her hackles would have definitely risen.

“Good evening, Your Grace.” The sarcasm loaded in those words was evident. “You don’t appear to be too heartbroken over the end of our relationship.”

Perfect, he was drunk. His breath reeked of whiskey. He would never approach her if he wasn’t, or would he? She looked him over. She really didn’t know him at all. The Rutherford she fell in love with was an illusion.

She gathered her courage and kept her temper with reluctance.

She did not wish to make a scene. “Good evening, Lord Rutherford. We did not have a relationship, what we had was a litany of your lies,” she hissed under her breath, moving farther into the shadowed area away from the other ladies, not wishing them to overhear.

She looked at Rutherford, and it was as if looking at a stranger.

How had she ever thought this man handsome?

She could see it now, the eyes that darted about and didn’t look you squarely in the face.

The air of entitlement, that he was better than anyone else, when really he was a quivering coward inside, a coward who would accost a woman alone on a terrace.

“He told you, then. It’s all lies. I swear. He stole you from me. He’s in there now, accepting cigars and slaps on the back for making such a good marriage. It should have been me. ”

“You can swear on your mother’s life and I’d still not believe you. Why would His Grace lie? He is handsome, rich, and a duke. He could have any woman he chose for his wife.”

“Not you. I had you.”

“Only because I was young, stupid, and a fool. You never loved me. If you had, you’d not have disrespected me by having a mistress.”

Rutherford loomed large in the darkening night and she felt a moment of alarm. She hoped he was still a gentleman.

“You think Lyttleton doesn’t have a mistress?”

Marisa tried not to let her faith in Maitland waver. “What are you implying?” Maitland had sworn, before they married, that he did not.

“I have your attention now.” A gloating gleam entered his eyes. “Ask him about Priscilla.”

Marisa didn’t understand. “His stepmother?” Her eyes widened at the insinuation. “You’re disgusting.” She made to move round him.

He grabbed her arm, halting her progress.

“Have you ever met Priscilla?” Rutherford saw the answer in her eyes.

“She might be closer to your husband’s age, but she is still an exceedingly beautiful woman.

Some say her daughter is actually Maitland’s.

That they were having an affair long before Maitland’s father died.

” Her stomach fell and it must have shown on her face.

“Why do you think His Grace keeps her ensconced at his estate in Hampshire? Ask around. The gossips will confirm what I say.”

“Gossip, that is all it is. Why are you doing this? You didn’t love me, so why does it matter that I married another?” She knew why: money. Would he admit it?