“No!” Beth could imagine nothing worse than to be kissed with hate. Shepulled harder. “Let me go!” It was hopeless.
“I have a bargain for you,” he said with a smile she distrusted.
Beth stilled. “What is it?”
He ran a finger down her cheek. Beth flinched. His smile became evenwider and colder. “I will refrain from forcing my unwelcome attentions onyou, sweeting, and from throwing your disgusting exploits in your face, ifyou will act your part to the full.”
“I am,” Beth protested.
“I want you to dress properly, assume the appropriate manner for afuture marchioness, and give all the appearance of being in love.”
Beth shuddered. “You are asking for total submission.”
He drew her even closer, turning slightly so that he pressed againsther sensitive breasts, and smiled a conqueror’s smile. “In return, youare free of my attentions except for polite public performances. Thatiswhat you want, isn’t it, Elizabeth?”
Beth had absolutely no choice. She needed to escape from this situationbefore it once more ripped out of control. “I agree. Let go of me.”
He released her at last. “So be it.”
Beth moved quickly to leave the stables, to leave him. His handfastened around her arm. Beth jerked around like a scalded cat. “Gently,my dear. Our pact begins here. Dry your eyes.” He offered a handkerchiefand Beth used it to wipe the tears. Dear Lord, what now?
Then he extended his arm and she laid her hand upon it. Sedately, aproper lord and his lady, they walked back to the house.
Jarvis watched them go. He’d thought he’d lost his place, perhaps hislife, for a moment there, but he couldn’t stand by and do nothing. He’dperched the marquess on his first pony and taught him nearly all he knewabout horses. Arden was a good lad, but he’d always had the devil’s owntemper when crossed. Back in those days, Jarvis had held the duke’spermission to cuff him if he were stupid. He remembered taking his ridingcrop to the marquess one day when the boy had worked out one of his rageson a horse.
The lad had then run to his father, and the duke had come out toinspect the poor mare. Then he’d ordered Jarvis to give the lad six morestrokes there in the stable yard. There’d been no more trouble after that,and the marquess had not held a grudge. Pity there was no one to take awhip to him now, treating a pleasant lady like Miss Armitage so. Lovers’quarrel indeed. Funny kind of love.
There was talk in the servants’ hall about those two, though no onecould figure out what was going on. Some thought the marquess had givenher one in the basket, so to speak, but there wasn’t that much hurry aboutgetting them wed. They certainly didn’t act like lovebirds, though.
Miss Armitage was a very well-liked lady as far as the staff went ?pleasant, ladylike, but with no airs and graces. But hardly the marquess’stype. Hardly his type at all.
Jarvis shook his head as he went back to care for his horses. Nags hadmore sense than people any day.
Chapter Seven
contents -previous |next
When she separated from the taciturn marquess, Beth took refuge in thelibrary.
He seemed to believe she was a virgin and yet it had not greatly helpedmatters. She had no idea what he thought she had done. A solid educationincluding the unexpurgated classics had left her, she thought, wellinformed about men and women and what they did together. The reality,however, was like thinking knowledge of a bathtub adequate preparation fora life at sea.
She had not wished to be kissed in hate. What would it be like if shehad to share a marriage bed in that spirit?
Tears threatened again, and again she pressed them back ruthlessly. Shewould not degenerate into a watering pot. She wished desperately that shehad someone in whom to confide, someone to turn to for advice. It couldnot be Miss Mallory, for she would simply tell her to return home and giveup all notion of the marriage. And besides, Beth had to suppose thatlady’s worldly wisdom to be as flawed as her own.
The duchess was the only married woman available to her, and she couldnot bring herself to lay the whole sordid mess before the marquess’smother.
Her only choice seemed to be to behave with such impeccable goodbreeding that the marquess would realize she could not be the kind ofmonster he imagined.
Who on earth were these men who were supposed to have handled her? Witha choke of laughter Beth thought of her beaux, such as they had been.
Mr. Rutherford, the curate, who had blushed fiercely when forced oneday to untangle her skirt from a rose bush; Mr. Grainger, the philosopher,who had once kissed her on the lips then apologized profusely for thepresumption and fled; Dr. Carnarvon, who cared for the pupils at MissMallory’s. The good doctor had hovered about her for a year before sayingthat he was quite unworthy of her because of his earthy desires. He hadthen married a sensible widow.
She tried to imagine any of those men treating her as the marquess haddone ? kissing her with an open mouth, touching her breast. That was nothow a man touched a respectable woman. Perhaps she should write to the“men in her life” and ask for character references.
Then an illustration popped into her mind ? a picture from one of MissMallory’s more outré books, one of the ones kept locked from the pupils.It was of Venus and Mars. Venus was lying half-naked in the lap of Marswho had one of his hands on her naked breast.
Good God! Did the marquess think she had donethat?With Mr. Rutherford? Beth leapt to her feet, her handspressed to flaming cheeks. How could she ever face him again? Surely suchthings only occurred in pagan times!
