Page 41 of Marquess of Stone

“And risk such a scandal?” His laugh held no humor. “Come now, we both know you will not. Your reputation is already precarious enough, seeing how you deem fit to insult and belittle almost every conversation you enter. And after your… adventures with Lord Stone comes to light… Do you remember that day at the lake? I promised you that you would regret challenging me, Lady Marian.”

Horror dawned as his meaning became clear. “You have been watching us?”

“Oh yes.” His grip tightened painfully. “Most illuminating, watching the renowned bluestocking, Lady Marian sneak about like a common lightskirt. What would your parents say, I wonder? Your poor mother? To know their eldest daughter has been meeting a man alone in his chambers?”

“You know nothing,” she spat though panic was beginning to claw at her throat.

“I know enough.” He pulled her roughly against his chest, his free hand coming up to grip her chin. “Enough to ruin you completely. Unless…”

She could feel the rapid thunder of her heart, wondering if anyone inside would hear it over the swell of the music that drifted through the terrace doors. The same doors that now seemed miles away though they stood barely twenty feet from where the Viscount held her captive.

“Unless what?” She tried to keep her voice steady though she could hear the tremor in it.

“Unless you learn to be more… agreeable.” His thumb brushed across her bottom lip in a grotesque parody of Nicholas’ tender gesture from the night before. “I can be quite generous to women who know their place.”

“I would rather face ruin,” she managed through clenched teeth, “than suffer your idea of generosity.”

His expression darkened. “That,” he said softly, dangerously, “can be arranged.”

She struggled against his hold, but years of proper deportment lessons hadn’t prepared her for fighting off unwanted advances. His grip only tightened, and she knew there would be bruises tomorrow — if she survived this night with only bruises.

The sound of approaching voices made him pause though his grip did not loosen. Marian’s heart leaped — surely whoever it was would see her distress, would help.

But the Viscount moved with surprising speed. Before she could cry out, he had spun them around, pressing her back against the balustrade in what might appear, to an outsider, like an embrace between lovers. One hand remained painfully tight around her wrist while the other pressed against her lower back, holding her in place.

“My Lord… please,” she whispered, real fear coloring her voice now, “do not do this.”

“Hush now,” he murmured, his lips nearly touching her ear. “The time for negotiation has passed. You wanted to play dangerous games with Lord Stone? Very well. Let’s see how you enjoy playing them with me.”

The terrace doors opened, spilling golden light across the flagstones. Marian heard the Baroness Hountshire’s distinctive laugh, followed by several other voices. Her chance to escape was approaching with each step of their feet.

But as she opened her mouth to call out, the Viscount’s grip became crushing. “Choose carefully, my dear,” he breathed against her skin. “One word from me about your extracurricular activities in midnightly hours, and it will not just be your reputation that suffers. Think of your sisters. Think of their future prospects. Their futures.”

His threat landed upon her like a physical blow. Jane and Diana, both so young, so full of hope and possibility. One whispered scandal about their eldest sister, and their chances of securing good matches and all of their chances at true happiness would crumble like sandcastles before the tide.

And so, when the Baroness and her companions rounded the corner, Marian remained silent, her tears sliding silently down her cheeks as the Viscount pressed his unwanted attentions upon her. She watched hope of rescue transform into scandal in their widening eyes, and she knew then that either way, she had lost.

“Lady Marian!” the Baroness’ voice carried that particular pitch that guaranteed every ear within half-a-mile would prick up with interest. “What in heaven’s name —”

“My dear Baroness,” the Viscount released Marian with theatrical reluctance though his eyes held triumphant malice. “I fear we have caused you some unnecessary distress. Lady Marian was rather… insistent on speaking with me privately.”

“I was not —” Marian began, but her protest was drowned out by the arrival of more witnesses, drawn by the Baroness’ exclamation like moths to a particularly scandalous flame.

Marian felt the noose of propriety tightening around her neck with each passing second. “This is not what it appears —”

“No?” The Viscount’s voice dripped heavily with false concern. “Then perhaps you would care to explain why precisely you dragged me out here? Why you thought it prudent to press your rather obvious attentions upon me?”

“I did no such thing!” The words burst forth from her with more heat than wisdom, and she saw several eyebrows rise at her unladylike vehemence.

“Come now, my dear,” he said, his tone gentle but his eyes glittering with malicious victory. “There is no shame in admitting to a moment of… weakness. Though, I must say, I was rather taken aback by your boldness. I did not even think you possessed such boldness.”

“Boldness?” the word emerged from the Baroness’ lips like a prayer for smelling salts. “Do you mean to say —”

“I mean to say,” the Viscount cut in smoothly, “that Lady Marian seems to have developed some rather… modern notions about proper behavior between gentlemen and ladies.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Her father’s voice carried the full weight of his title, but the Viscount merely offered a bow that managed to be both proper and subtly mocking at the same time.

“My Lord Drownshire,” he said carefully, “I fear your daughter has placed us both in a rather… precarious position.”

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