Page 46 of A Whisper Of Desire (The Disgraced Lords #4)

Chapter Twenty-One

T he guests were all seated in the drawing room for pre-dinner drinks.

Marisa smiled and chattered as if her world had not been destroyed.

She could barely bring herself to look at Maitland.

She knew she had to be strong. She would have to walk away and give him the means to obtain an heir.

Priscilla’s strength helped her. She drew on her sacrifice and decided that tomorrow she would talk with Sebastian.

Her brother would not like the idea of her being divorced, but she knew Maitland would always provide for her.

Besides, she had her dowry, and she’d take Clarence and Simon with her.

She would devote her life to the orphanages of London, as she would never remarry.

Her heart would always belong to Maitland.

“Are you sure you’re feeling up to this, Marisa? You look a bit peaky.”

She pasted on a smile before turning to Beatrice. “I’m perfectly fine. I thought I’d go stir-crazy being cooped up like a hen in a henhouse for all these weeks. I intend to enjoy myself tonight.”

Just then Beatrice gave a small squeal. “The baby kicked. Here, feel.” She grabbed Marisa’s hand and placed it on her protruding stomach.

Marisa couldn’t feel anything, and then, oh, a strong thump hit her hand. She looked at Beatrice in awe. Such a strong little kick. She kept her hand there, waiting for more. “With strength like that, I’m sure it’s a boy.”

The look of joy on Beatrice’s face took Marisa’s breath away. “I bet you’ll be feeling as bloated and as uncomfortable as me soon, but in these moments it’s so worth it.”

She felt Maitland’s start from across the room. Saw him begin to move toward her, pain and pity filling his eyes. She couldn’t stand the pity.

Beatrice looked between them and her smile died. “I’m sorry, have I said something wrong?”

Marisa patted Beatrice’s hand. “No. Let’s just say the villainess has taken more from Maitland and me than you know.” With that she stood and asked to be excused.

She walked blindly from the room, needing some air to cool the dark anger building inside of her. She made her way through Maitland’s study to the adjoining terrace and threw open the doors with such force she thought for one moment she might have shattered the glass.

She heard footsteps behind her, and she hoped it wasn’t Maitland. A shudder rocked her. She couldn’t bear to see that look in his eyes.

“I gather what the doctor told you wasn’t good news.”

Priscilla.

“No.”

The woman came and stood beside her. They both looked out into the darkening night. After a dark silence Marisa spoke.

“The injury was more severe than Maitland or anyone told me. They had to take my womb.”

She held Priscilla’s indrawn breath. “You—you can’t give Maitland children. ”

When would that sentence not ever send her body into spasms of pain? “No.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Do?”

Priscilla fidgeted beside her. “You can’t let that happen. He has to have children. That is why I refused to marry him. I sacrificed everything so that one day he could marry and have children. Just being in his life was enough for me. I wanted him to be happy.”

A sob slipped from between her lips, and she swung round into Priscilla’s arms. “I want that too. I suggested a divorce, but he won’t hear of it.”

“You must make him see. Do you think it was easy to get Maitland to walk away after what his father did to me? But I persevered and succeeded. I talked his father into marrying me instead.”

“I’m not sure what else I can do. I can’t petition for a divorce, I have no grounds, and if Maitland opposed, no one would grant the divorce anyway. Other than run away, I see no other option. Running away would not leave him free to remarry. I’d have to be dead.”

She felt Priscilla tense. Silence filled the night air. “We will have to think of something.”

They stood together in shared misery until Marisa gathered herself and pulled out of her embrace. “I should get back to my guests. This is not duchess-type behavior.”

“Go. I’ll stay for a moment longer.”

Marisa moved back inside and called through the door, “Thank you for telling me I’m right.”

When she walked with her head held high back into the drawing room, Maitland made to come to her, but she waved him away.

He must have told them, because she could see the looks of pity on their faces—all except Hadley.

His face was a mass of anger; she’d never seen him this way.

The pitying looks were what she would have to face for the rest of her life unless she could convince Maitland to divorce her.

Hadley approached and handed her a glass of what she could smell was whiskey. “Drink. You look like you need it.” He watched her take a tentative sip. “We will get you your revenge, that I promise.”

She squeezed his hand and he led her back to her seat. Once she was comfortable, Arend began telling them everything he’d learned about Fleur de Lily.

“It’s the name that was used by one of the most sought-after courtesans in Paris several years ago. The timing of her rise to fame matches the dates of our fathers’ ‘incident,’ I have termed it.”

“Is that where you have been these past weeks: Paris?” Sebastian asked.

Arend nodded.

Hadley leaned forward, excitement almost causing him to spill his drink. “So you have a name? You learned her identity?”

“Sadly, no.” There was a collective sigh at Arend’s reply. “We knew it wouldn’t be that easy. A woman with her background who perhaps wants to leave that life behind will have covered her identity well.”

“So we know nothing.” Marisa’s bitter words stilled everyone.

“Not so. I have learned that she accepted a proposal of marriage.” He paused. “To an Englishman of means.”

“Of means? What the hell does ‘of means’ mean? That doesn’t narrow the field, so to speak.” Grayson inquired sarcastically.

“If you would let me finish.”

Grayson straightened his cravat. “Sorry, I’m just a bit riled up from Maitland and Marisa’s news. I want her caught.” He reached for Portia’s hand, caressing it in his.

“I found one of Angelo’s ‘friends.’ He admitted that Angelo had been in Paris seeking the same information.

He remembers this woman. She would be around mid-twenties now.

He can’t tell me hair coloring or anything, because she used to dye her hair, but he does remember that she was English, not French.

Her French accent was terrible. He also told me that she was the favorite of an English earl, but he could not remember the name. ”

“By Jove, that narrows our search down quite considerably.”

“Christian, let’s not get too excited. Who is to say she is still with said earl? Besides, we can’t go round accusing the wife of an earl. We still need proof.”

Trust Maitland to bring their hopes crashing down. Thankfully, the awkward silence was broken by Brunton announcing dinner was served. Marisa took the arm Maitland held out for her, and he covered her hand with his, rubbing her glove as if wanting to ward off the cold that owned her body.

She wanted to take her mind off the horror that was her situation, and as she took her seat opposite Hadley, she smiled and said, “Isobel tells me an old flame of yours is back in London and asking after you.”

Hadley looked amused. “That doesn’t really narrow her name down for me.”

A giggle, her first since this afternoon, escaped. “Cad,” she scolded lightheartedly. “Lady Evangeline, you heartbreaker.”

The napkin he was unfolding for his lap dropped to the table, forgotten, and his eyes darkened. “She is in London?”

Marisa noted the tension in his jaw and her smile dimmed as her curiosity piqued.

“I believe so. She’s just out of mourning, and has decided to spend some time in London.

There is still a month left in the season.

” She wanted to ask more, but from the look on Hadley’s face that probably wasn’t a good idea.

When had she ever listened to her inner caution?

“You know her well? I can’t remember ever meeting her.”

Hadley looked at her and sighed. “You’ll not leave me alone unless I answer, will you?”

Marisa merely smiled politely and shrugged.

“I knew Evangeline several years ago.”

Marisa waited. “And? There has to be more, your reaction to her name a clue.”

“I foolishly gave her my heart, but she up and married a wealthy, elderly viscount. It seemed that a mere poor second son of a duke was obviously not attractive enough for her needs.”

She was sorry she’d asked. It was obvious his hurt still ran deep. “I’m sorry. I will try to avoid her, then. It may be difficult for you to avoid her, as it would seem she is seeking you out. Lady Evangeline has asked Isobel to acquire your social calendar.”

His mouth firmed, but he said nothing further. She now wanted to meet Evangeline. What sort of woman would give up a man like Hadley to marry an old viscount? Well, a mercenary one, obviously.

It had been an excellent idea to go ahead with the dinner. She actually forgot her troubles, listening to the laughter and chatter round the table. However, sometimes she could feel Maitland’s eyes boring into her from the other end of the table, concern etched behind his stare.

They forwent the formalities of the ladies leaving the men to drink their port alone and settled back into the drawing room.

It was Christian who asked “So where to from here?”

Arend drew out a sheet of paper. “I’ve taken the time to make a list of married earls with living wives. I’ve yet to ascertain the ages of these wives. There are one hundred fifty earls with wives still alive.”

He handed the list to Maitland.

“Let’s go through the list together and see if our combined knowledge can eliminate a few names.”

Everyone agreed with Maitland’s suggestion. He called out the name of an earl, and if anyone knew of the family, they either added the name to a suspect list or crossed their name off.