Page 18 of A Whisper Of Desire (The Disgraced Lords #4)
She winced as Rutherford’s hand curled tighter around her arm. “I’ve wasted the season chasing after you.”
“Hardly chasing. You played a game and lost. Fool. I would have married you as soon as you’d asked. What man does that? What man plays with a young girl’s heart, just because you need money? You disgust me.”
Suddenly he was towering over her and he had her trapped against the cold brick wall at her back. Perhaps, as through the season, she’d misjudged him again. He was no gentleman. “Let me pass.”
She tried to push him away, but he kept her pinned with his body. The more she strained, the more he cowed her, until she could feel the silk of her gown tear against the brick.
“Take your hands off the lady before I decide to tell her husband.”
Rutherford stepped away from her immediately and addressed her savior. “I was merely renewing our acquaintance.”
“Liar.” Marisa pushed past him and moved quickly to stand beside her rescuer, whom she recognized as Lord Cumberland, Philip Flagstaff. His sister, Portia, had recently married Maitland’s friend, Libertine Scholar Grayson Devlin, Earl of Blackwood.
A woman was with Lord Cumberland, and she came forward and wrapped a protective arm around Marisa, pulling her away from the men. “Let’s us go to the retiring room and see if we can salvage this beautiful gown.”
As the woman ushered her in through a side door, she looked over her shoulder to see Lord Cumberland dragging Rutherford down the stairs and into the garden.
“Philip will see that Lord Rutherford leaves you alone in future.” She turned to look at Marisa. “Unless, of course, you want to be bothered?”
She merely shook her head, her legs and arms still shaking.
Once inside the lit hall, Marisa recognized the lady helping her.
She was the infamous Duchess of Roxborough, a stunningly beautiful woman, the quintessential English rose—Rose, her name was Rose.
As Marisa recalled, she’d been left a widow at two and twenty, and despite numerous proposals, the rich young widow was renowned for refusing all offers of marriage, instead taking numerous lovers.
“Thank you for helping me. As the new Duchess of Lyttleton, I’d hate to cause a scandal at my first ball.”
“Heaven forbid,” Rose said sarcastically. “I find that a D at the start of one’s title abdicates many sins.”
They continued on in silence and slipped into the retiring room virtually unnoticed. Rose made her sit at the dressing table, and only then did Marisa notice that her hands were still shaking.
Rose began assessing the damage to the back of Marisa’s gown. “There is a slight tear just under your shoulder. You could wear my shawl and that should cover it.”
Removing her shawl, she draped it across Marisa’s shoulders. “Thank you, you’re very kind.” You should ask her about any gossip surrounding Maitland.
Rose took the chair next to her and they sat in silence for a moment.
“Marriage can be overwhelming in the beginning,” Rose offered into the silence.
“I still clearly remember my wedding day, unfortunately.” At Marisa’s gasp, Rose continued.
“My father virtually sold me to the Duke of Roxborough, who was almost three score and ten. The wedding night was far worse than the wedding day,” she said, and shuddered, her voice hitching.
Marisa didn’t answer; she merely reached out and took hold of Rose’s hand.
“It appears that some women are far luckier. My friend Portia was forced to marry Lord Blackwood, a friend of your husband’s, I believe. I’ve just returned from their wedding in Dorset.”
“I met Portia when we recently visited with Lord Markham. She is very much in love.”
“And you are not?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard rumors regarding my rushed marriage.”
Rose squeezed her hand. “I assume you are referring to the incident of being found naked in Lady Dunmire’s guest room with His Grace. Portia confided in me about what is happening with the Libertine Scholars. I believe it was the work of this villainess?”
Marisa merely nodded. “The men think so.”
“I’m sorry you’ve been caught up in their situation. Being forced to marry is not pleasant. As I am sure you know, you could have done a lot worse.”
All Marisa could do was laugh at her truthful words.
“True. I could have been stupid and married Lord Rutherford.” At Rose’s raised eyebrow, Marisa added, “It’s a long story that culminates in me learning he was marrying me for my dowry and the money his father would give him upon his marriage. He has a mistress.”
Turning to the mirror to deal with a stray curl, Rose said, “I hate to say, but most men have had a mistress at some stage of their lives. Some for all of their lives.” She hesitated before adding, “Probably because so few of the ton marry for love.”
“I asked Maitland if he had a mistress before we married. He denied it, but Rutherford says I should ask him about Priscilla.” Marisa watched for Rose’s reaction and Rose’s hands halted briefly in their tidying of her hair. “You know of the Dowager Lyttleton?” Marisa asked her new friend.
“She is two years older than I.” Rose turned from the mirror. “I have heard the rumors, though, but that is all they are, rumors. I’ve never met the dowager duchess, because since her marriage she has never come to town. She prefers to stay in Hampshire.”
Marisa swallowed her pride. “Would you mind telling me the rumors? I’d like to be prepared.”
“The past is often best left behind. People make mistakes. They do things they regret.”
As she watched Rose pinch her cheeks, Marisa was certain Rose was referring to herself.
“Take me, for instance. When I became a widow I thanked God and swore I’d never marry again and become any man’s property. So I took lovers and enjoyed the scandalous reputation. I regret my behavior now.”
“May I inquire as to why?”
“The man I’ve been in love with all of my adult life no longer sees me as marriage material. He might have once, but now that he’s become the earl, my reputation speaks for itself”—tears flooded Rose’s eyes—“I am no longer suitable to be his countess.”
“Lord Cumberland?”
Rose wiped her tears away. “He loves me in his own way, but not enough to overlook my past.”
They were lovers. Why were men so dense? Rose would make a wonderful wife. She was kind, intelligent, and beautiful. “Perhaps it might be time to walk away and see if absence makes him reevaluate your relationship.”
“I doubt he has any idea I want anything more. He knows I’ve turned down countless proposals.”
“Then tell him. You may find he’s been wishing to offer for you, but thinks he’ll be rejected too.”
“A very sensible suggestion. Let me return the favor. Why not ask your husband about the rumors?” Rose sighed when Marisa said nothing.
“ Apparently the young Marquess of Carr, as Maitland was while his father lived, met and fell in love with Priscilla Whedon, the widow of Baron Ligonier. Priscilla was, and now likely still is, a great beauty, and unfortunately, Maitland’s father took one look and decided he must have her. ”
“I’ve heard that Maitland’s father was not a nice man, hence why Maitland is being targeted, but his own son’s heart’s desire . . .” The idea that Maitland had loved this woman and could still be in love with her made Marisa’s heart cramp.
“It gets worse. He used Maitland’s name to entice her to a meeting and then compromised her to the point where she was left with no choice but to marry Maitland’s father. Does that sound familiar?”
That is what had happened to Marisa, but Maitland did the honorable thing and asked for her hand. “Did Maitland not step up to protect her? If he loved her, surely he was the alternative, her savior.”
“She would not marry Maitland. She married the father. I do not understand why, you’ll have to ask her.”
Marisa’s face heated. She was not about to do that. Suddenly the idea of a beautiful woman sharing her husband’s house for years, a woman he had loved, filled her with dread. Had she also shared his bed? Was he still in love with her?
“Maitland’s father died a month after the wedding and she has remained at the estate ever since.
She already had a child from her marriage with the baron, and she bore a child from her marriage to the late duke.
I don’t mean to hurt you but rather prepare you.
The rumor is that Maitland and Priscilla are, and have always been, lovers, even before the death of Maitland’s father.
The rumor is that the daughter could be his, and that is why a woman as beautiful as Priscilla has never remarried. ”
No wonder Maitland was so determined to do the honorable thing and wed Marisa; he’d had to watch Priscilla marry a cad. “I wonder, if these rumors are true, why he has never married her?”
“That’s something you need to ask your husband and why I don’t believe the rumors of an affair.”
If the child was Maitland’s, he was too honorable not to have married Priscilla. However, that did not mean they were not having an affair or had not had an affair. She rubbed her temples. This was so confusing.
“Don’t make my mistake; don’t hide your feelings. It’s too late for me, but it’s not for you. Talk with your husband and start your marriage on truth, not innuendo.”
Sound advice. Advice was easy to give but far harder to follow.
Maitland was still virtually a stranger, and to her surprise Marisa was finding that where courage was concerned, she lacked it when it came to confronting her husband.
She wasn’t scared of him, merely intimidated.
He exuded confidence and influence, whereas she was a young woman with a lot to learn.
Look how easily Rutherford had fooled her.
Quite frankly, this experience had shattered her self-confidence. How did one weed through the lies and recognize the truth? Could she trust any man’s good character?
Sebastian trusted Maitland, so perhaps she should too. She needed to talk with her brother. He would tell her the truth about these rumors.