Page 40 of Only Scandal Will Do

“As you think we cannot? That I cannot be kind?” His tone held a trace of despair and his brows were raised beseechingly. The brown depths of his eyes seemed devoid of everything except concern for her next words.

“I believe you can be kind, my lord. The question is, will you be kind to me?”

“It will be my life’s ambition, Lady Katarina.” His voice shook with conviction.

“Then I will honor my word and marry you at six o’clock this evening.” Unsure how to respond to the look of joy that leapt into his face at her words, she lowered her eyes. “Now, may

I please leave to prepare for the ceremony?”

Dalbury looked as though he would say something further, but she made good her escape, stopping only to retrieve her sword from its resting place beside the prostrate Tommy Redmond. She turned to Dalbury and mustered her old spirit. “If you intend your friend to stand up with you, my lord, I suggest you spend the afternoon making sure he can stand.”

That last look in his eyes triggered the memory of her body responding passionately to his gentle touch, the safe feeling of his arms around her, her head pillowed on his strong chest.

These, and other seductive thoughts of their past encounters, followed her as she searched the downstairs for her brother. By the time she found Jack writing a note to Aunt Harriet in the front parlor, she was heated from head to toe, having almost convinced herself that life married to the marquess might actually have its advantages.

* * * *

Katarina appeared the eager bride when she and Jack left for Dunham House at a quarter to six. With Margery’s help, she had taken extra pains with her toilette, attired in the ice-blue silk intended for her wedding to Amiable Dawson. Her hair, under a lacy pinner cap, formed fashionable waves framing her face. She would do the family credit and impress her bridegroom into the bargain.

Jack had been quiet, even sullen all afternoon. Why, when he had gotten his way? She’d spent the time bracing herself for the encounters to come, both at the wedding ceremony and afterward. Though hard to admit defeat in the matter, perhaps her marriage would not be the disaster she’d once feared. The marquess’s words and demeanor this morning went a long way toward dispelling those fears.

While the carriage wound through the streets of London, Kat tried to entice Jack out of his surly mood. “Why so gloomy? You should be elated. You haven’t lost me to Virginia and you’ve gained a wealthy and influential brother-in-law.”

“This was your own doing. I offered to fight him and you wouldn’t have it. So don’t come crying to me now.”

Did that fight still gall him?

“All your fighting would have done was get you killed. I’d still have had to marry him because with you dead, I’d have no one else to protect me. And I’d then be married to the man who not only compromised me, but killed my brother. I think my solution best. I had my chance, and I lost. But I think I can live with the consequences.”

Despite her words and an encouraging smile, Jack still scowled. “I particularly did not care for the way he treated you after the duel. Biting your neck.” His expression froze into hard lines. “It was almost obscene.”

Heat rose in her face at the mention of that scene, and she fingered the small wound on her neck. Her flesh had pebbled all over at his touch, and the feel of his lips on her skin had made her want to turn to him and pull his mouth down to hers. Resisting the urge to fan herself, she said, “It truly was not that bad.”

When his brows drew down in a deeper scowl, she hastened to reassure him. “I think the marquess and I will get along well enough. He has acted the gentleman through all of this, and when we spoke after the duel he promised to be kind. I believe him, Jack. I think…” Katarina paused, but made herself continue. “He may have come to care for me. And I believe I could care for him. So you have no cause to berate yourself.”

Jack’s face went white. Mouth puckered, he stared out the window as if unable to meet her eyes. Alarmed by this unexpected response, she placed her hand on his arm. “Jack? What is wrong? I thought you would be happy this marriage is no longer so repugnant to me.”

He turned to her then, and she drew back sharply at the anger that filled his face. She would swear sparks flew from his eyes, which flashed so vehemently beneath his lowered brows.

“Is that truly what you feel, Katarina?” His voice frightened her with its lack of warmth.

“Y-y-yes,” she stuttered, afraid of him as never before. “W-what is wrong?”

Jack clenched his fist, then relaxed it and drew a letter from his breast pocket. He opened it, skimmed the words he had obviously already read. Crinkling the paper in a harsh grip, he swore underneath his breath. “Yesterday, I took your words to heart, Kat. When you said we knew nothing really about the marquess? So I sent letters to Lord Braeton and Lord Malton, a man at my club who knows Dalbury, asking for information about him because he had offered for you. One came this morning, but it gave me little more information than I already knew. The chap from my club touched on the scandals, hinted some of Dalbury’s entertainments were more risque than most gentlemen’s parties, but nothing that seemed truly detrimental to his character.”

Her heartbeat raced, then slowed. A sudden stomach cramp and her mouth tasted of bile. “This is the response from Lord Braeton?” She barely recognized her own voice as she whispered the question.

“It came while you were dressing.” He watched her face, and shook his head. “According to Braeton, who has known Dalbury for years, the marquess is not only a rake of the first degree but a man who has never, to his knowledge, pursued a young woman of good family with the purpose of marriage until this season. Now he needs to marry and get an heir, but most members of the ton won’t consider him eligible because of the scandals last year.”

She tried to find some loophole in this logic, to keep at bay the icy fingers of doubt creeping up her spine. “But we know about the scandals. He was defending his sister, for God’s sake.”

“He also kept mistresses, both here and in Italy, according to Braeton. He may even hold part interest in the very house where you were sold to him.” Jack’s look seemed to bore into her.

“Have you forgotten so soon that he bought you for a ridiculous sum, just so he could bed you?”

She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself as her heart sank. Dalbury might very well have duped her again. But-- “If Braeton holds the marquess in such disdain, why did Lady Braeton confide in me her hopes for a match between him and her cousin?” Perhaps this letter was a ruse, a way for Braeton to salvage an alliance with the marquess. She hoped so.

“Lord Braeton was not aware of his wife’s intentions until the night of the ball. He writes that he has forbidden Lady Braeton from pursuing such a match, and urges me to turn the marquess away as well.”