His Not-So-Sweet Marchioness: A Steamy Victorian Romance Read online

  “Would you believe me if I told you it was one-sided?” He shot her a baleful glare.

  Impervious to his affectation, she pursed her lips in annoyance. “I would not.”

  He huffed and let the glare slip from his craggy features. “I thought as much.”

  “Then why would you ask? Why are you so insistent that we part ways?” Frustration boiled up from deep within her. Were all men so typical? Did they all hide things from the women in their lives? If they were going to work, he must learn to trust her.

  “I am not the right man for you. I shall never be able to be the husband you need, to make you happy.” His head hung between his shoulders as if in defeat.

  “Perhaps you should let me be the judge of that. I may be a woman, but I am intelligent enough to discern who and what is best for me.” She sat upright with her hands clasped tightly in her lap as she fought the urge to go to him and cradle him in her arms. He looked so lost, so distraught, that it broke her heart.

  With a grunt and a shake of his head, he looked up at her once more. “Please. Don’t do this. Don’t force my hand in this. Simply let me go as we had agreed.”

  Perhaps she was being selfish, but for the first time in her life, she was taking something for herself alone. She wanted Flint, and she would have him. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. I care for you. Very deeply.”

  It was as if her words were a dagger that she had shoved into his chest right where his heart resided. Tears welled in her eyes as she took in his stricken countenance. Then he stumbled back a step and turned even paler than when he’d walked into her home. “I’m sorry, Ros.”

  With a pained groan, he turned and fled from her parlor.

  Needing to watch him go, she rose and moved to the window. As the front door slammed behind him, she jumped. Her heart skipped a beat. Her lungs constricted as she tried to breathe, but nothing moved. Her chest seized, surrendering to the pain that laid siege to her body. Then the first tear slipped free. She’d said she cared for him, and he had…apologized. Her heart broke as she watched him running away, but from what she wasn’t sure. From her? Or, from something else?

  Chapter 7

  Ros was dressed and ready to go by the time Julia and Wolf arrived. She stood near the window, watching for Flint as they entered.

  “Good evening, Ros. You look lovely.” Julia swept into the room, bringing a much-needed fresh breath of happiness with her.

  Ros had hoped she would hear such words from Flint, but since he’d not yet appeared, that was rather difficult. “Hello, and thank you.” She smiled as best she could. “That green looks stunning on you.”

  “Thank you. I had to have it when I spotted it at Madame Le Fluer’s.” Julia twirled like a girl in her first ball gown. All the while, Wolf looked on with doting adoration.

  Ros fought back the tears that had been slowly surfacing as the minute hand moved relentlessly forward.

  “Has Flint not arrived yet?” Wolf looked concerned as Julia took in the otherwise empty parlor.

  Ros managed a watery smile. “I’m afraid not.”

  Julia looked worriedly at her and then back to her husband. “Well, I’m sure he’ll be here any moment.”

  A mean little voice in her head countered Julia’s positive words. He’s not coming. He doesn’t want you. “No doubt.”

  A knock came at the door, and Ros whipped around to peer outside, but she couldn’t see who was standing on her doorstep. Johnson appeared a few moments later and presented a note. Plucking the correspondence from the salver, she recognized the masculine hand. With trembling fingers, she opened the note.

  Ros,

  My deepest apologies, but I am running late. Please go on without me, and I shall find you at the Culpepper’s ball shortly.

  Yours,

  Flint

  It was then she noticed a particularly strange odor coming from the page. Warily, she lifted the sheet closer and sniffed. The page held traces of whisky and perfume. Her gut twisted, but she refused to let on that there was an issue. Tucking the note away, she turned to Wolf and Julia. “I’m afraid Flint has been detained. We should press on, and he will catch up with us later.”

  Julia shot her another concerned glance but accepted her statement. “Very well, we should be off. The Culpepper’s ball is going to be an absolute crush!”

  With a pit in her stomach, Ros followed her escorts out. It seemed Flint was going to stand her up for the evening. She highly doubted he would bother to drag himself away from whatever flowery smelling entertainment currently held his attention.

  An hour later, they had made their way inside the ball only to find themselves practically shoulder to shoulder with everyone in society. Wolf spotted a clearing in the crowd up on a raised area overlooking the ballroom. They made their way across the crowd and up the four steps to the sliver of space. They were quite far from the action of the ballroom floor, but it gave them both a lovely view of the event and a bit of breathing room. They had missed the first dance, but considering the only partner she wished to dance with wasn’t likely to be coming, she wasn’t particularly concerned.

  For the next few hours, Ros watched as Julia and Wolf danced while fending off inquiry after inquiry on Flint’s whereabouts. Wolf and Julia returned from another dance, and Ros couldn’t help but notice her sister’s probing stare.

  “Wolf, dearest, could you go and fetch some punch for myself and Ros? I’m feeling rather parched.” Julia smiled at her husband.

  Ros tried to ignore the unspoken dialog, but she’d always been observant. She steeled herself for the coming conversation.

  “All right, Ros, spill. What has occurred between you and Flint?” Julia had morphed from sweet wife to bullying older sister in the blink of an eye.

  Stifling an inappropriate curse, Ros tried for a blank face. “I don’t know what you mean?”

  “Oh, enough with such nonsense. I know you far too well, Ros. You were never a deft hand at dissembling. What is going on with Flint? Where is he?” Julia crossed her arms beneath her breasts and waited.

  Ros considered her options and decided it was pointless to try and hide what was happening. “I don’t actually know where he is.”

  Julia’s gaze narrowed as she drew a breath to speak.

  “Truthfully, I have no idea where he is tonight. But that note he sent stunk of whisky and perfume. I imagine that whatever is detaining him is of a relatively pleasurable nature.” Pain shot through her chest.

  “Oh, no!” Julia leaned over and pulled her sister in for a hug, despite their competing skirts.

  Ros pulled back quickly. “Please, not here. I do not wish to have a cry right here and now. It is horrible enough standing here sans beau.”

  Julia growled a little. “You’re right, of course. No need to make a scene now. But I promise you when I get that man in private, I shall trounce him soundly.”

  Ros tried to smile. Having been on the receiving end of one of her sister’s tirades, she knew Flint had quite the storm coming his way. But it failed to make her feel any better.

  Wolf returned a few minutes later, bearing the warm lemonade often found at these affairs. He tilted one side of his lips up. “They were fresh out of punch.”

  Julia took the tiny glass and sipped the tart drink and her face puckered. With that indicator, Ros decided to skip the beverage.

  “I think I shall go home. This is silly to remain here and ruin the evening for the two of you as well.”

  Julia latched on to her arm. “Absolutely not. You need to dig out your dance card, fill the remainder of it with eligible bachelors, and dance the night away. Flint can go rot.”

  Wolf grunted and let one brow lift in query, but his wife waved him off. “I’ll explain later.”

  Ros shook her head. “I think I’d rather go home.”

  “Go home?” A booming, masculine voice slurred through their conversation. “But I’ve just arrived!”

  Flint stood on the second step up to t
heir little platform weaving back and forth. Ros couldn’t contain the little cry of dismay that escaped.

  “Where have you been?” Julia hissed the question at him.

  Ros had little doubt about where he’d been. From where she stood, she could smell the all too familiar stink of alcohol and perfume. “Don’t be ridiculous, Julia. He’s been at The Market.”

  “Always knew you were a flash one, Ros.” Flint listed forward and then reversed course, only to find the banister before he tipped too far backward.

  Ros pinched the bridge of her nose and drew a deep breath. This was too much to bear, but bear it, she would. At least, until they escaped their prospective audience. If they hurried, they might escape without too much notice. “Wolf, if you will fetch the carriage and bring it around the rear by the garden, Julia and I should be able to steer his drunkenness out the back way and avoid any further embarrassment.”

  Wolf nodded and moved past his friend. He stopped for a moment and said something to Flint that caused the intoxicated man to straighten up for a moment. Then as Wolf departed, Flint seemed to return to swaying. Whatever Wolf said, it’s effects were short-lived.

  “Very well. Julia, we’ll need to make this look as natural as possible. I’ll take his arm; you walk on his other side and do the same. Between us, we should be able to keep him steady.” Ros stepped down and got him turned around with his arm tucked safely in her arm. They stepped down two steps and waited for Julia to join them. Then, the three of them went for a stroll.

  By the time they’d gotten Flint down into the garden, a man materialized from the shadows. “It looks like you ladies could use a hand.”

  Julia gasped and stopped, but Ros had no time for anyone. “Not at all. We are getting along just fine if you’ll move aside.”

  Ros made to move past the dark-haired, black-clad man, but Julia was a bit slower, throwing them all off balance.

  “Whoa.” The stranger said as he stepped in to assist. The next Ros knew, Flint had been hoisted over the man’s impressive shoulder, and they were moving quickly toward the rear gate of the garden.

  “Excuse me—not to sound ungrateful—but who are you?” Ros was worried about the unknown man being aware of how intoxicated Flint was.

  “A friend of sorts,” the stranger said and continued on.

  Off-balance, and not a little concerned that the man had waltzed in and taken charge, Ros practically ran to catch up with him. But Julia grabbed her arm and pulled until Ros fell back, and her sister could lean in to whisper, “That’s Mr. Lucifer!”

  Ros wanted to groan. Bloody hell! What was the man doing in the Culpepper’s gardens, and why was he helping them? What did he want from Flint? So many questions popped up that she was practically dazed as she followed the man through the rear gate. Then he deposited Flint in the carriage that Wolf had miraculously arrived with.

  “Lucifer?” Wolf looked as shocked as she felt as he got a glimpse of who was aiding them.

  “Don’t look so shocked, Wolfington. The ladies were clearly struggling with their burden.” Lucifer tipped his hat at them.

  He was a handsome devil…and it was the devil part that worried her.

  Wolf’s face hardened. “I don’t know what you are playing at—”

  “I’m not playing at anything. Merely attending to a small bit of business. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am late for my appointment.” Then with a gallant bow, the infamous Mr. Lucifer disappeared back through the rear garden gate.

  With a confused shake of her head, Ros climbed into the carriage followed by Julia and then Wolf. The three of them rode in silence for a few moments.

  Wolf looked at Flint, worry drawing his brows together. “Did he hit him?”

  “Of course not.” Julia chided her husband. “Mr. Lucifer appeared at a most auspicious moment. Flint was fading fast. If he hadn’t been there to assist us, I imagine Flint would have wound up flat on his back in the Culpepper’s garden until you came to find us.”

  Wolf grunted, clearly unconvinced of Mr. Lucifer’s good Samaritan role. Ros was of a similar mindset. The man was in that garden for no good purpose. She hoped it wasn’t in relation to Flint. Not terribly long-ago Lucifer had pumped Julia for information about Flint. In the aftermath of Wolf and Julia’s wedding and their ultimate happiness, they had all forgotten about that interrogation and what it might mean for Flint. Had he? Could that be why he was seeking to distance himself from her?

  The carriage came to a stop.

  “I had the driver take you home first, Ros. Julia, may I ask that you stay with your sister until I am able to come back to fetch you?” Wolf reached out to caress his wife’s cheek.

  “Of course.” Julia cast a glance at Ros that did not bode well for the next little while. “My sister and I have much to discuss, I think.”

  “Excellent. Don’t be too hard on her. I am certain much of the blame for whatever this is lies squarely on Flint’s shoulders.” Wolf grinned. “The male of our species tends to be a bit foolish when it comes to the women we love.”

  “Too true, but the females can be equally stubborn and hard-headed.” Julia leaned forward and kissed her husband on the lips. “Hurry back to me.”

  “Always.”

  And with that, Julia and Ros exited the vehicle.

  Julia preceded her into the house and turned as soon as they were in the front salon. “I want to know the full story, this instant.”

  Ros sighed and found a seat. “There isn’t much to tell. Flint wishes for me to end our engagement, and I am refusing to do so. Or I was.” She glanced down at her hands and felt her tears returning.

  “Why does he wish to break?” Julia looked as confused as Ros felt about the whole thing.

  “That is the problem. He keeps telling me that he isn’t the man for me. That he can’t be the husband I need. It’s ridiculous tripe, but he’ll not listen. Not even when I told him that I care for him.” Her voice cracked on the last admission.

  Then Julia was by her side on the settee and crooning to her. “Oh, my poor Ros.”

  They sat there and rocked for a while as she let the pain of Flint’s rejection out. Until tonight she hadn’t realized how desperate he was to escape her. And suddenly, she couldn’t help but wonder what was so wrong with her that he refused to marry her. That he didn’t want her.

  But she knew deep down it wasn’t her, not really. There was something wrong with him. Something that was preventing him from loving her. In the end, she didn’t want a man if she had to force him to be with her. And that was what she faced.

  As her tears lessened, she asked her sister, “Do you know what it could be that is keeping him from me?”

  Julia shook her head. “No, I have no idea. But, if he is willing to go to such lengths to push you away, then perhaps you should consider letting him go.”

  Ros sighed. “I know. Just as I refuse to have my choices taken from me, I cannot take them from him. No matter how much it hurts.”

  Then her tears returned, and she contemplated his friendship with her brother-in-law. How would she ever face Flint again? Would the rest of her life be filled with awkward gatherings where they all pretended none of this occurred?

  Chapter 8

  Flint rolled over, his hands flying to his head. He was quite certain that if he didn’t hold it, the thing would split in two, spilling its contents all over his bed. The reoccurring spike of pain did not pair well with his desert-dry mouth and the roiling nausea in his belly. He groaned.

  “I imagine you aren’t feeling up to snuff.” The sardonic tone of Wolf’s words drove him to attempt to crack one lid open. A bright light seared his eye, which caused him to wince and retreat back behind his closed eyelids.

  “My God, have you no soul? Do something about that blinding morning sun,” he ground out from between gritted teeth as he hid under the covers.

  “Morning? Ha!” His friend’s laughter was not welcome. “You missed that joy by nearly ten hours. It is late
afternoon and pushing toward evening.”

  He groaned again. “What do you want, Wolf?”

  His friend’s boots slapped the ground with a sound that felt as though a hammer had struck the spike currently lodged in his skull.

  “What I want is to make sure you are well, and then to find out what the bloody hell you were thinking showing up to the Culpepper’s ball so pissed that you could barely stand and stinking of another woman’s perfume?”

  Flint didn’t particularly feel like explaining things to Wolf, but it seemed he may not have a choice. His friend looked well and truly furious, not that Flint could blame him. He cracked his lids open. “Well, that was me trying to make it easier for Ros to break with me. She seemed reluctant last we spoke.”

  “You bloody fool.” Wolf shook his head.

  Sprawling on his back, he let one arm flop over his closed eyes. “I can’t be what she needs, the man she needs. It’s simply not safe for her to be with me.”

  “Bollocks. You are a good man. You may have a taste for a bit more violence than the rest of us, but at your core, you are not a bad person.” Wolf cursed softly. “Though I don’t imagine it matters much.”

  A piece of paper smacked against his chest, causing Flint to shift his arm and look down. “What is that?”

  “A missive from your betrothed.”

  Flint eyed the sealed note with both finality and trepidation. He needed her to break off their engagement. It had been his entire goal the night before. But he also dreaded the moment Ros would no longer be part of his life. She had brought a light, a radiance into his world that he had never thought to experience.

  Sitting up, he carefully arranged the pillows behind him. Then he broke the seal on the note.

  Dear Flint,

  As you know, I have no desire to end our association. However, the events of last night have made it more than clear that you do not feel the same. I am saddened that I pushed you to such an extreme display in order to make your wishes clear. I certainly would not wish to be forced to do something against my will, as it seems I am forcing you. Please accept my sincere apologies for being so difficult, but I felt it was important to fight for what I wanted. Now I see that perhaps I fought too hard. I shall release you from your commitment to me, and wish you the best in your future endeavors.