‘Drew.’ A hand touched his arm and stopped him. ‘Come to my room tonight.’
As he faced Lady Worton, her hand moved from his arm to his crotch and caressed him through the fabric of his pantaloons.
He had just bathed in innocence and now he was soiled with sin again.
He’d lied when he’d said he was entirely unwanted – women of his mother’s ilk desired his presence, but only in their beds.
He removed Lady Worton’s hand. ‘I am not inclined tonight, Bets. Find another toy.’
He did not wait for her reply. He was so damned bored of his life. He had been born into it like a whore into a brothel. He had not chosen this life; it had chosen him. For years he had enjoyed the sex, the money and gifts the women gave him. But now he wanted choice, and the only way to achieve it was to marry money.
‘Drew!’ Another of his friends, Peter, caught his attention, lifting a hand.
‘Peter. You’re late. Where were you?’
‘I, my friend, have been…’
Drew listened to Peter recounting the experiences of his evening, as he faced the room, looking past Peter’s shoulder. Miss Marlow was not dancing. She stood with her father, brother and a woman he did not recognise. It looked as though Mary was receiving at worst a scolding, at best a warning.
Drew looked at Peter. ‘Who is that with Pembroke?’
The Pembroke women, including Miss Marlow, were all dark-haired, it was one of the strongest characteristics of their beauty; jet-black hair, pale skin and pale blue eyes, but this woman was blonde.
‘Pembroke’s wife.’
Good Lord. He had not expected Pembroke to marry for years. He was not like his sister, he was no more innocent than Drew and he did not need money. They had travelled in the same circles on the grand tour. Pembroke had been one of the women’s toys too. He had walked away from the demimonde a while ago, though. Now he looked down on the men he used to call friends. Men like Drew, who had no choice but to live that way.
‘Why?’ Peter asked, his hand resting on Drew’s shoulder.
‘I simply wondered.’
‘I thought you were interested in the sister. You will hardly have a chance there if you pitch for the man’s wife.’
‘I have no more interest in married women.’
Mary’s mother was speaking to her now. Mary glanced across the room, and he knew, even though he had no evidence of it, that her eyes were seeking him. An odd sensation leapt in his chest. He would have said it was his heart, but like Pembroke, he did not really have one. That had been kicked far too many times in his life.
Mary’s gaze had not found him. Instead, she faced her mother and said something in return, the fingers of the hand he could see forming a little fist as she expressed some forceful point of view.
‘Stop drooling over the fair Miss Marlow, and come and play cards.’
‘I ought not, I have no money.’
‘If you need funds I’ll lend you more. Come and play. Mark and Harry are in a game so I need you for my pair.’
‘Very well.’
Drew played a few hands of cards at the tables with his friends for an hour. They did not normally attend such affairs, but Derwent’s wife was in his mother’s set, and so any young man with poor morals had been encouraged to attend. After the ball the night would end in an orgy, but by then he and his friends would be gone. He had never liked those kinds of games.
‘I am out.’ He’d played for long enough. If he wished to escape his current life, he must return to the task of fulfilling his plan.
‘Settle what you owe before you leave.’
Fortune had played against him. Drew looked at Peter who nodded as his hand moved to his pocket.
Drew rose. ‘Good evening, gentleman,’ he said, then shared a look with Peter that said, I shall see you in a while .
It was all well and good to have a generous wealthy friend, but how could a man respect himself when he lived off his friend like a leech, or from the services he rendered to flesh-hungry wives. The devil take this life. He no longer wished for it.
If he’d been born in different circumstances his father might have paid for a commission in the army or a placement in the clergy. The Marquis of Framlington had given Drew his name and begrudgingly paid for Drew’s bed and board through his years of schooling, but that was all he would do to save face. Then Drew had learned a way to earn freedom from his false father’s house. If only he’d known then that he was tying himself up in a new hell.
He should have saved the money the women gave him and paid for a commission himself. He’d been too young, and too greedy. He’d squandered it at card tables. His losses and debts had built up and sucked him into the power of his mother’s friends. They’d been paying the duns on his behalf for years, never enough to clear the debt, just enough to make him come back.
He returned to the ballroom and looked for Miss Marlow. He spotted her instantly. Her dark curls bounced on her shoulders as she skipped through the steps of another country dance. He truly liked the girl.
But it would be safer not to put all his eggs in one basket. He scanned the other debutantes in the room. There was an auburn-haired lady he’d danced with at previous balls. She was not as pleasing on the eye as Miss Marlow but her dowry was substantial. He moved towards the set she was among, preparing to take her hand for the next dance.
A woman was spun out of the last turn of the current dance and collided with him.
It was Pembroke’s newly acquired wife.
Her gaze met his, as her chest rose and fell with her quickened breaths.
She had blue eyes, but they were not pale like her sister-in-law’s.
Damn it , but he was tempted to play a game. If he settled on Miss Marlow, then Pembroke would most likely fight him all the way.
She turned back to her partner.
Drew saw Pembroke speaking with Lady Elizabeth Ponsonby, Drew’s eldest sister. She was older than Pembroke too, by a long way. She married young and adopted their mother’s unfaithful way of life. He knew Pembroke and she had had a liaison for a while. She was the one who had pulled Pembroke into the demimonde. Pembroke had been as innocent and stupid as his little sister. Like a baby presented to the women in a linen cloth – here is another young male for you to mislead.
Drew never spoke to Elizabeth or acknowledged their connection.
Yet, if Elizabeth was interested in Pembroke again, she would not let him escape easily, which gave Drew time.
‘Your Grace.’ He caught the hand of the Duke of Pembroke’s young bride before she could walk away. ‘Would you dance with me?’
Her large blue eyes displayed her confusion, but, like her sister-in-law, she was too polite, and na?ve, to deny him.
Of all the dances, it was a waltz.
He brought her close, so her breasts pressed to his chest. She stepped back, setting two inches between them.
This was going to be amusing at least.
He spun her several times, holding her securely as her hold was so light it felt as though she were trying not to touch him at all.
‘Where did you meet the Duke of Pembroke?’ he asked.
‘At Pembroke Place, Lord Framlington. I lived near his family home.’
She did know who he was then. He had misjudged her.
‘Is your marriage as blissful as you hoped…’ He was being sarcastic.
Her mouth opened, but she said nothing, unsure how to respond. Well, there it was then, another cold, loveless, society marriage that would end in sin and shame. He did not plan that for himself. He hoped for more in the marriage he sought, but first and foremost he sought a woman who would be loyal. He may have cuckolded dozens, but he did not wish for that from his wife, and he would honour her with loyalty too.
Drew saw Pembroke conversing in whispers with Elizabeth, already perhaps agreeing to play his poor wife false. Drew felt a sudden urge to punish Pembroke; he had won this beautiful woman and even now was treating her poorly. In time she’d run out of patience and turn elsewhere too, and that is how innocents became debauched.
She looked away from him as they turned, her head turning so she could keep looking at Pembroke.
Drew had been brought up to be wicked. He leaned to the Duchess’s ear as they spun. ‘Pembroke is dull. Perhaps when you tire of him you might think of me. I would be willing to warm your bed if it is cold.’ It was a joke, a silly spur-of-the-moment move.
The woman snapped her head back, a look of horror on her face, as though he’d slapped her. ‘I will never tire of my husband.’
She had not kept her voice low, not caring if others heard, and she walked away in the middle of their dance, completely ignoring the risk of scandal.
Her outburst could have left him feeling vexed. It did not, he wished a woman would stand up for him as adamantly. She truly cared for Pembroke.
He moved back and joined those at the edge of the dancing.
Pembroke met his wife not far away. He had disposed of Elizabeth. He looked at Drew with thunderclouds in his eyes as he walked through the dancers.
Pembroke did not show emotions. Drew believed him to be as unmovable as stone. When Peter told him Pembroke had married, Drew thought he’d selected a Duchess. But the look in Pembroke’s eyes, the anger, implied the man felt as much for his wife as his wife felt for him.
Drew had made a mistake.
Fortunately, before Pembroke collided with any couples the dance came to an end. The last note played as his fingers closed around Drew’s throat with a force that said she is mine. Then he hissed, ‘I had already made a note this evening to warn you not to dance or speak to my sister. Now I am also warning you to stay away from my wife or I will kill you.’ The hand at his throat pushed Drew back a step before letting go.
Drew smiled and straightened the knot of his neckcloth. He felt like laughing.
He would not have guessed that Pembroke had a heart. Nor that he would be able to make a woman fall for him so deeply.
Drew merely nodded, then turned away. He saw Miss Marlow being returned to her parents by her latest partner. She glanced over her shoulder, as though she felt his gaze. He raised a hand. She sent him a tentative smile.
She had not heeded her brother’s and her father’s warnings.
He returned to the fake marble pillar and watched.
Several of the men in the knot of the Pembroke family group rested their hands at their wives’ waists, and the couples stood close, barely inches between them. Some of them had been married for years…
The Earl of Barrington turned and said something to his wife, then kissed her lips. Barrington was Mary’s uncle on her father’s side, and Drew had heard he’d been a rake, as wicked as they came, until he married. Now he was never in town unless he was with his wife.
Wiltshire, another Duke, The Duke of Arundel, who was as hard-nosed as Pembroke, laughed about something. Then mid-conversation he turned, looked at his wife, lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them. He continued the conversation with others as if it were nothing odd.
Drew saw Mary’s father lean and say something in his wife’s ear. She smiled at him, shook her head, then kissed his cheek.
They were all affectionate. Every couple. He was looking at his idea of utopia. Of course it could be false. But if it were real…
If it were true then there was no doubt about his choice. If Miss Marlow was as capable of constancy as the other women in her family, why would he choose another? She was his plan.
After tonight, they would wrap her up and keep her away from him. But never mind, he could take his time, his need for her dowry was not desperate, he had a little more credit he could call on, and he wanted what the Pembrokes had. Commitment. Constancy. Even affection. Perhaps, he would have all of that with Mary.
‘Are you ready to retire?’ Peter’s hand settled on Drew’s shoulder.
He also had a friend with generous pockets.
‘Yes.’ Drew looked at his friends, Peter, Harry and Mark, his brothers… His family. ‘Did you fare better than I?’
‘The richest of us did,’ Mark quipped. ‘The man who does not need it.’
‘I won back your losses and more,’ Peter clarified. ‘So, I say that earns us a drink and a pretty bird of paradise each.’
‘I’ll take the drink, but I shall pass on the whore.’ The thought of lying with any woman other than the one he’d chosen to be his wife was abhorrent.
‘Then I shall have yours as well as mine,’ Harry joked.
As they walked out of the ballroom, Drew asked Peter, ‘What do you know of the Pembroke sisters and their daughters…?’
* * *
Mary was sitting on her bed, with her knees bent up and hugged in her arms. Her bare toes peeped from beneath her nightgown. Her mother had dismissed the maid and helped Mary undress.
‘Mama, why did you choose to marry Papa?’
She was placing Mary’s earbobs into their box. She turned. ‘Why do you ask?’
Because a particular gentleman’s hazel eyes hovered in her mind, along with the lilt of his smile.
There you have me. Perhaps I am not a gentleman…
That, her brother John had told her father, and her father had told her. Lord Framlington is a fortune hunter. A rake. Avoid him.
Judge me by the man you see… he had said.
‘When I met your father…’ her mother sat on the bed, ‘our eyes met across a table and I just knew he was right for me.’ Her skin had pinked with a blush.
‘Do you think I will know?’
‘I hope you will. I hope you find a man who will love you with all his heart.’
Lord Framlington’s eyes, his face, returned to her mind. There was something fascinating about him. He was different to any other man who had spoken to her.
‘You have been quiet tonight; did you not enjoy the evening?’
Mary smiled. ‘I enjoyed myself.’
‘Come along then, jump into bed and let me tuck you in.’
‘I am too old to be tucked into bed.’
‘You will never be too old,’ her mother teased.
After she got into bed, her mother kissed her cheek, then tucked the sheet tightly beneath the mattress. ‘Sleep well. I love you, Mary.’ Her cold fingertips touched Mary’s cheek.
‘I love you too, Mama.’
Her mother extinguished the candles in the candelabrum, collected a single candle burning in a holder and walked to the door. ‘Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight.’
She left the room, the light disappearing with her.
Mary saw Lord Framlington in the darkness. He’d stood against a pillar watching her for most of the evening. He had looked… lonely, sad. She ought to feel nothing for him. She ought to never think of him again. He had been courting her dowry, nothing more.
Yet there was something about him, she had continually wanted to look at him.
I like and admire you… he had said.
Her thoughts drifted into dreams and he joined her there…