What A Gentleman Wants (28 page)

“
You
thought this would spare me?” Her voice rose incredulously, and Marcus closed his eyes as she repeated every argument Hannah had made. To think you were indifferent and unhappy in your marriage? To think your bride had left you, and you cared nothing for keeping her?“

A telling silence filled the room. Marcus made no reply, refusing to cover for his brother any longer. Rosalind drew a long breath. “But I would never have blamed David,” she said in wonder. “I would have scolded you, and been disappointed in you, but never once thought David at fault. Oh, Marcus, how could you?”

“Habit,” he muttered, tossing back the last of his drink. No one knew how many times he had saved David, not even David. From the examinations he took in his brother’s stead at Eton to the fortune in gambling debts paid and the angry husbands paid off and intimidated, Marcus had always acted to preserve the family name, and David’s along with it He had thought this would be no different, but it was. David had tried to wreck Hannah’s life this time, and Marcus couldn’t pretend that was a trifle to be brushed aside with a bank draft and some placating words. David deserved to suffer, and Marcus wouldn’t mind administering the suffering himself this time.

“And David— Oh, I cannot even imagine what he was thinking!”‘ Rosalind’s voice rose as she paced back and forth. “I’ve a mind to go take a switch to him myself. What a trick to play on someone! And to lie to all of us! I hardly know him anymore— Oh!” She seized a glass from the sideboard and flung in into the fireplace with a small crash of broken glass. The fire licked hungrily at the shards of fine crystal.

Marcus refilled his glass and said nothing.

“This cannot be allowed,” said Rosalind firmly when she had mastered herself again. “You’ve got to make amends, and David as well, though what he deserves will little repay what Hannah’s lost.”

Marcus had a guess what Rosalind was going to say. And to tell the truth, the thought of marrying Hannah sounded rather appealing. In fact, it had a great deal more than a little appeal. If Rosalind encouraged her, even told her she must, Hannah might overlook all the things she disliked about him and his life, and accept him. Or at least give him a chance; that was probably as much as he had a right to hope for, after what he’d put her through. That was all he deserved, and, Marcus vowed, all he would need. For the first time in his life, he waited with bated breath for his stepmother to suggest he marry.

“You’ve got to let her go.”

He started, nearly dropping his whiskey. “What?”

“Tomorrow,” said Rosalind. “She was persuaded to come to London under false pretenses, and should be allowed to return at once. Now that I look back, there were several signs she wanted to leave—oh, goodness, I was so blind, insisting everything would be all right if she only stayed!”

“She wants to go home?” he echoed numbly. He had really thought she was warming to life in London, and to him. Naturally she had wanted to leave at first, but he hadn’t heard a word from her about it in some time. And at the same time, he had stopped thinking about when she would be gone. He couldn’t imagine life without her now.

“What is there to keep her here now?”

Marcus said nothing. There was nothing
to
say. What was there to keep her now? No need to deceive Rosalind or Celia, no facade to present to the ton. David would be sure to venture out and dine on the tale sooner or later, if it hadn’t already leaked from the servants’ quarters, and then life in London would become a torment for Hannah. He desperately wanted a reason to argue, but didn’t have one. “She’s lived as my wife,” he murmured.

Rosalind sucked in her breath. “Has she? Have you and she—?”

“No!” He lowered his voice. “I meant she’s been presented to society as my duchess.”

“Ah.” Rosalind sighed. “Then you have to let her go. She’s not your wife, and having lied about it for two months won’t change the fact that you have no claim on her.”

Marcus stared out the window, cold and desolate inside.
I do have a claim on her
, he wanted to shout
I lied until I believed it for truth. I’m used to her, and I like her, and I want her to stay
. But that was what he wanted. What did Hannah want? He had bent her to his will once before, when she wanted to leave. He hadn’t cared what she wanted then. But now… “Of course. I’ll tell her tonight.”

Hannah asked Lily to bring her dinner to the nursery on a tray. She didn’t know if the family would dine together as if nothing had happened, but she didn’t want to risk it. She played with Molly for a while, trying not to think of what must happen next. The servants must be gossiping like mad about this afternoon’s spectacle. They would all know she was an imposter, and soon all of London would as well.

Lily came to retrieve the tray. She kept her eyes averted, as if she didn’t want to look at Hannah, and Hannah was both relieved and mortified. It was a sign she should leave as soon as possible, if even the servants couldn’t bear the sight of her. So when Molly went to bed, Hannah went back to her own room.

There was too much to do. In less than two months Rosalind had filled the wardrobe with more clothes than Hannah would ever need, even though Marcus had said she could keep them. But her heart twisted as she studied the beautiful gowns and lacy shawls, the delicate shoes and all the gloves, stockings, bonnets, and other things a duchess must have. Her own plain clothing that she had brought from Middleborough had long since been buried behind all the finery.

She pulled out a nightdress at random, caressing the soft silk. It was the basest kind of vanity, but she liked wearing gorgeous clothes. She loved the feel of silk next to her skin. She loved being beautiful. She loved… she loved… She turned the silky gown over, sighing as she recognized the gown she had worn the night Marcus kissed her.

Oh, dear.

Who would have guessed that they would turn out to be so much alike under it all? Who would have guessed that her feelings could take such a complete turnabout regarding him?

It all made her head ache. She dressed for bed, hoping sleep would calm her thoughts and emotions. There would be time for packing tomorrow.

There was a rapid tapping at her door just as she was about to put out the lamps. Hannah went to open it, surprised to see Celia.

“What is it?” she started to ask, but the younger girl slipped into the room and closed the door, her eyes huge.

“Marcus has told Mama everything, and she’s told him he has to let you leave,” Celia said rapidly. “She’s trying to push him into admitting that he loves you, regardless of David’s tricks, but it won’t work, not on Marcus. Oh, Hannah, you’ve got to tell him!”

“Calm down,” said Hannah with authority. “What are you talking about?”

Celia sucked in a huge breath and held it for a moment “Marcus told Mama what David did. All of it, how he pretended to marry you, and brought you to London and left you in his mistress’s house, and then wrote Marcus that his new duchess had been delivered.

Carotene Linden

Mama was so angry, I thought she might go upstairs and thrash David herself. And then—“

“How do you know all that?” Hannah asked sharply. Oh, heavens—this would be even worse than she’d expected.

Celia shook her head. “I listened at the door. Honestly, I couldn’t not listen! Oh, Hannah, what you must think of us, after the way we badgered you! And when I think—”

“Celia.” Hannah squeezed her hands to get the girl’s attention. “That’s none of your concern, or your mother’s. It is between Marc—your brothers, and if you have any affection for them, you won’t repeat anything you heard.”

“Of course I won’t!” she cried. “But Mama is going to push Marcus into a corner, and he’ll never admit it if you don’t say something first! I know you shouldn’t have to, but if you love him, you have to, or he’s going to send you away!”

Hannah released Celia’s hands, staring at her. “Oh.”

“Back to your home, Hannah. Mama is telling him he has to send you home, since you’re not really his wife. She thinks he won’t be able to do it, and will admit he loves you to keep you. Because you do love him, don’t you? You don’t want to leave, do you?” Celia was crying now, silvery tears streaking down her face.

“No,” said Hannah very quietly. “I don’t.”

“And you do love him?” Hannah said nothing. Celia grabbed her by the arms. “You do, don’t you?” she demanded, on the brink of hysteria. Still Hannah said nothing. Celia sniffed, men burst into loud, noisy sobs as she flung herself into Hannah’s arms. “Oh, Hannah! I’m going to miss you so.”

And I will miss you
, thought Hannah, so heartsick she almost burst into tears herself. She would miss Celia, and Rosalind, and most of all Marcus. She would miss everything about this life she had expected to hate. It was a bitter irony that she was allowed to leave, now that she didn’t want to. She wrapped her arms around Celia and let the girl cry.

She managed to get Celia calmed, and sent her to her room to wash her face. Then she sat down and thought. Celia’s account rang true; Hannah had known all along Rosalind was determined to see Marcus happy with her, and it scored her heart to realize how much she had begun unconsciously cheering Rosalind’s efforts. She knew she had fallen in love with him—not when, not how, and sometimes not even why—but she had.

But he was going to let her go, Celia said. Rosalind’s manipulations wouldn’t work on him, he would send her home just to prove he could. If he didn’t love her enough to humble his pride and ask her to stay, didn’t it leave her no choice but to go?

Well, I could always tell him I want to stay
, she reasoned.
There’s no reason why he must humble his pride first. It might make a difference. It might not. If it doesn’t, then I’ll know. If it does
…

Then I’ll know.

He knocked on her door an hour later. Her heart leaped into her throat, but Hannah squeezed her trembling hands together and responded at once. “Come in.”

He stepped into the room, his jacket and waistcoat gone. He looked tired. “You weren’t at dinner.”

She managed a half smile. “I thought it would be awkward.”

“Right.” He sighed, rubbing his jaw. “I’ve told Rosalind everything.”

“Celia came and told me,” she said in a low voice. He nodded.

“I thought that was her shadow outside the room.” He hesitated. “No one holds anything against you. Rosalind knows I forced you to play the part, and to lie to her. She knows David brought you to London under false pretenses, and that you have been an honest woman every moment.” He stopped again. “No one will hold you here any longer. You have but to say when, and I’ll have the carriage prepared to take you home.”

She cleared her throat. “Is that what Rosalind said you should do?”

“Yes.”

“Is that what you want to do?” she whispered. His chest filled, and something kindled in his eyes, but then the light died, and he let out his breath.

“I promised you could leave when our charade was over. I will not break my word and keep you here against your will. You are free to go at any time you wish.” Hannah’s knees gave out, and she collapsed onto the dressing table chair. This was it. If she said nothing, he would let her walk away. If she said something, he still might send her away.

“What if I didn’t want to go?” She could barely bring herself to look at him. What if he said she should leave? What if he reminded her that she had promised to leave?

He was quiet for a long time. “I won’t make you go, if you don’t wish to.” Was that hope in his voice? It could be. It might be.

She raised her eyes to him. “I want to stay.” He didn’t move. “Marcus…”

“Yes?” His voice sounded hoarse, but it might just be the blood roaring in her ears.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to stay,” Marcus said, without knowing when he had decided it was true. She turned, half rising from her seat. He never knew how he had thought her ordinary. “Forever.”

With a choked gasp, she put out her hand, and he crossed the room in two strides, yanking her into his arms and burying his face in her hair. Her arms slid around him, and he shuddered as he kissed her neck.

“Will you?” he demanded, pressing kisses up her jaw and around her ear. “Will you stay?”

“I will,” she said, placing her hands on his cheeks and drawing his lips to hers.

“Forever?” he demanded against her mouth, holding her against him so that she realized his intent. He couldn’t take it any longer, living this close to her and not touching her, kissing her, loving her. She pulled back, her glorious blue gaze as hot as lightening.

“Yes.” And she moved against him, letting him know he was welcome—even required—to make love to her.

With one arm he lashed out, sweeping perfume botdes and brushes from the dressing table before lifting her onto it. Her knees parted, and he pressed between them, wanting to drive himself into her until neidier existed alone anymore. He kissed her desperately, his hands shaking as they raced over her, too wild with urgency to linger anywhere. God in heaven, how long has he wanted this, to have her straining against him, her legs around his hips, her own hands gripping him with the same desire?

Hannah felt his hands sweep her nightgown up her thighs and she trembled. The fact that she had never stood beside him in a church and spoken her vows didn’t matter, something that ought to have surprised her but didn’t. He wanted her to stay, forever. From Marcus, it was a statement as meaningful as a wedding vow might be to another. He had no reason now to keep pretending she was his wife unless he wanted it to be so.

“My God, I’ve wanted you for so long,” he groaned in a rough voice, cupping the curve of her breast, his thumb rough and insistent over her silk-covered nipple. Hannah moaned, wriggling closer, reaching for the fastenings of his trousers. She hadn’t undressed a man in a long time, and her hands shook. Finally the material gave way, and she slid her palms flat over his hips, around to his back, pulling him closer. The trousers loosened, slipped, and his bare flesh met hers, thigh to thigh. He sucked in his breath, then pressed against her, and Hannah tilted her hips in silent, desperate urging.