Page 10 of Marrying a Marquess (Widows of Mayfair #3)

She knew both men could be gallant and friendly—Nick openly and Latham hesitantly.

But both of them also had a dark side. She had recognized Nick’s at a young age.

From her vantage point, he didn’t let many people close to him.

After the incident that was gossiped about, he became worse.

It was as though he couldn’t open up to anyone or let anyone in.

He guarded his emotions, and his smiles rarely reached his eyes.

She didn’t know Latham all that well, but she knew he had nearly ruined his life and bankrupted the barony, which was why he needed to marry and marry well.

She didn’t know the extent of the depravity he had fallen into.

Could there be more than the drinking, gambling, and his propensity for lightskirts?

How badly had he slipped into the darkness?

She was most curious to find out and perhaps she would ask him soon.

Either way she looked, her suitors were enigmas, and she would need to puzzle them out. Dig into them until they released their secrets, their darkness, and joined the sunshine.

“What a beautiful night,” Priscilla remarked as they approached a bench. She sat down, adjusting her skirts.

“It is,” Latham joined her on the bench, his hands resting on his thighs. Thighs that filled out his breeches nicely, if she were being honest. “If I’m not being too forward, I was wondering if I could call you Priscilla when we are in private?”

Her hands tightened around her fan as she realized she didn’t even know his name. “Yes. May I call you by your given name as well?”

“Yes. It’s David.”

“David.”

“I’m named after my grandfather on my mother’s side. He was a great man. Loved his family and the Crown.” He paused, leaned back against the bench, and sighed. “I worry that he is watching from Heaven and shaking his head at how I’ve messed up everything. He was the Marquess of Gloucester.”

Her heart pained at the sadness and self-hatred she heard in his voice.

She placed her hand on one of his and gently squeezed.

“If he is watching, I’m quite convinced he is proud of you for overcoming your vices and working hard to make everything right again.

” She squeezed his hand again. “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.

You should be proud of yourself for turning your life around. ”

He snorted. “Yes, well, if it weren’t for James, I would probably be dead. Either by a duel of honor, because I had none, or by drinking myself to death. Or by hundreds of other ways.”

“Caldwell is a good brother to have. Thankfully, he came back to London when he did.”

“Yes. That is my only saving grace.”

She turned toward him, their knees bumping, and she cupped his cheeks. Suddenly, she had the urge to kiss him. To kiss all his pain away. Did that make her a bad person for kissing Nick one moment and then kissing the baron next?

They both leaned toward each other at the same time until their lips met.

The kiss was gentle. His lips were soft and firm, which was a contradiction she knew.

His arms cupped her cheeks and tilted her head to deepen the kiss.

She exhaled into his mouth as his tongue swept inside, tasting her.

With her eyes closed, his large, warm hands resting on her cheeks, his tongue twirling around the inside of her mouth, her body relaxed, and her insides tingled. He pulled back.

“Forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive. I initiated the kiss. I wanted you to kiss me.”

He kissed her again, not as deeply, but it was no less enjoyable.

“We should go back before your mother starts to wonder where you have gone,” he said, standing with his hand out.

Taking his hand, she let him assist her in rising from the bench. “Thank you.”

“Are you still willing to go for a ride in the park tomorrow?” he asked, uncertainty vibrating in his voice.

“Yes. I’m looking forward to it.”

He bowed once they went through the doors into the ballroom, the musicians playing a waltz. “Until tomorrow.” He brought her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips across her fingers, causing her to sigh.

Her eyes followed him as he walked around the room, exiting toward the staircase, which she knew brought him down to the entry hall and outside. Feeling exhausted all of a sudden, she shuffled her feet to her mother and said, “May we go? ”

“Indeed, we may,” her mother replied.

The ride home in the carriage was silent. Her mother nodded off and Priscilla was glad, because she knew her mother, and if she were awake, she would inquire about what transpired in the gardens with Nick and Latham. And Priscilla wasn’t in any mood to discuss it.

When they arrived home, she bid her mother goodnight and made her way to her chambers where her maid waited for her to help her prepare for bed.

Lying beneath the pretty blue floral coverlet with Snowball purring loudly beside her, she touched her lips as she remembered kissing two men that night.

Nick’s kisses made her lose all reason. The world had disappeared, and nothing had existed but the two of them.

It was dizzying, and she’d almost panicked at the feelings bombarding her from all angles.

It was amazing and terrifying at the same time.

Handing over control to another person didn’t come easily to her.

However, she had given over control to Nick.

When his thigh gave her unimaginable pleasure, that was the only thing she had thought about.

Nothing else mattered but using his thigh to her advantage.

Was that selfish? Perhaps. It also frightened her to be so lost to her surroundings that only her needs prevailed.

As for kissing David, at first, it was sweet and gentle, a light caress.

When it deepened, her body had tingled in all the right places, but the sensations didn’t take over her every thought or desire.

He didn’t try to touch her or arouse her in any way, but she did learn one valuable lesson: She would welcome David’s advances.

If she married him, the marriage bed would not be a chore.

She believed she would enjoy his touch. And she wouldn’t lose her mind over his caresses, which would be good.

Being with Nick—her inner being taking over, pushing all reason aside—frightened her.

He could wield such power over her, and that was worrisome.

During her wedding night with Jasper, she did not lose control the two times they made love.

The first time was uncomfortable, and the second time she was so worried about it hurting, she couldn’t relax.

So she didn’t have much to go on, but she believed she would enjoy the marriage act with whomever she married, be it Nick, David, or some other as-yet-unnamed gentleman.

Not long later she had trouble keeping her eyes open and succumbed to the pull of sleep tugging her under.

*

His chest puffed out with pride, Latham left the dreadful musicale and made his way to his mistress’s home.

He’d accomplished what he set out to do.

Get Lady Priscilla to agree to a courtship.

And with any luck, she would agree to a marriage proposal.

Yes, he needed funds, which was why he was considering marriage.

However, marrying Lady Priscilla wouldn’t be a hardship.

He was attracted to her, and the kiss they’d shared affected him more than he thought possible. His blood ran hot when he was close to her. Her tall, lithe body had curves he wanted to explore. He could envision her long legs wrapped around his waist as he sank into her warm heat.

He exited his coach and hurried up the stairs as the butler opened the door with a sour look. “Good evening, Baron. My mistress awaits you in her boudoir.”

Thinking about Lady Priscilla had his body ready, and he ran up the stairs to the welcome arms of his mistress.