Page 2 of A Whisper of Desire
What hurt his pride and honor more was that Sebastian, just a month ago, had thrown scorn on Maitland’s suggestion that they align their two houses and thatheshould offer for Marisa’s hand. Maitland knew he was called “the Cold Duke” within theton.He was the first to admit that he struggled with social niceties, but he would give Marisa a good life. She’d want for nothing. She’d be a duchess, for God’s sake, married to an extremely wealthy man in his prime.
It was time he married. Maitland was conscious he was the last of his line and, with an unknown madwoman hunting him and the other five Libertine Scholars, it was more than time he took a wife and beget the heir and the spare.
He’d put off the task of finding a wife, knowing how dangerous having a woman living in his home could be. She’d be available to slake his needs whenever he wanted and God knows where that would lead. His father’s descent into debauched madness started not long after his marriage.
He’d thought a marriage to Marisa a fine plan. She was a sensible, no-nonsense young lady who would more than likely lie back in his bed and think of England, hardly the type of response to cause his self-control to shake.
Yet Sebastian, his supposed friend, saw a marriage to him, a duke, as not appropriate for Marisa. Most likely because Sebastian had fallen in love, and perhaps he wanted love for Marisa. If Lord Rutherford was the answer, then it proved Maitland’s view that nothing good came from love.
The sound of coupling coming from the other side of the bushes faded as he thought about the woman from his father’s past who was targeting him and his friends. They still had no idea who she was or exactly why she wanted revenge.
His father had always been a cold, cruel bastard, and Maitland could well believe the previous Duke of Lyttleton had been party to some heinous act. His father had committed the most heinous of acts against his own son, a young innocent paying the price, so why not another young girl?
But why was the villainess taking her revenge out on him, the son who had tried to live a respectable, honest life? It just didn’t make sense.
The cries of a woman in the throes of ecstasy brought him back to the present. Logically, he should walk away and simply inform Sebastian as to what he had learned this night. Once Sebastian knew what Rutherford was up to, he’d never let him marry Marisa. A marriage to this utter cad would see Marisa in misery. She thought Rutherford loved her.
Maitland shook his head. She didn’t understand that love was simply a chemical imbalance within the brain. It wore off, and then what were you left with?
Lust.
And lust, if not controlled, could destroy everything.
This fleeting, irrational feeling people referred to as love was nothing to base something as important as marriage upon. A good marriage should further both families’ positions within society while building a strong alliance. Friendship and similar goals were all that were required.
Lady Marisa would have been, and still could be, a fine match for him.There’s a thought.
He decided to return to the ball and find Sebastian. Perhaps his friend would think more favorably upon a match with him now. But before he could slip away, the amorous couple walked round the rosebush and straight into him.
“Your Grace,” Rutherford stammered, as he dropped the arm of Lady Charlotte Marshall. “How are you, sir?”
“I would have been a lot better if I hadn’t had to listen to you two coupling behind this bush. The very bush I’d chosen to stand next to for a quiet smoke.”
The woman gasped at his outspokenness, and Rutherford’s eyes widened with horror. “It’s not what you think, Your Grace.”
“Oh, I’m sure it is. I suggest you work out a way to extradite yourself from Marisa’s affections before I have to tell her brother.” With that, he turned to leave. “Oh, and by the way, do it gently. Sebastian, Lord Coldhurst to you, is an expert marksman, and you wouldn’t stand a chance in a duel with him.”
—
Marisa was enjoying Lord Dunmire’s ball. Tonight she hoped Rutherford would propose to her. She still couldn’t believe she’d let herself fall in love.
Her parents’ marriage was supposedly a love match. Society had thought they had been passionately in love with each other, only to destroy themselves with jealousy. Marisa, having grown up with their arguments and violent fights, had disdained love until her brother met and married Beatrice. The happy couple had shown her what true love was, and it wasn’t hurting the one you professed to love with petty jealousy and rivalry.
She knew in her heart that Rutherford loved her. He’d made his feelings very clear from the day they had met. He’d called her his heart’s desire, his everything, and he treated her with respect and honor, as if she were the most precious person in the world. Thetonwas expecting an announcement any day. She could not work out what was holding him back. He said he was waiting for his mother to arrive in town, but it was almost the end of the season.
She was getting a little put out by his casual assumption that she had no other choice but to wait for him. In fact, she had decided to treat him a tad cool tonight.
Maitland Spencer, Duke of Lyttleton, was one of her brother’s assigned escorts, more like a guard. Her brother and his friends were being targeted by an unknown enemy, and Sebastian was taking her safety, and that of her sister, Helen, seriously.
She’d considered flirting with His Grace tonight in order to make her point with Rutherford, but something about Maitland unsettled her. She’d danced with him earlier, and in his arms her stomach flipped, her body came alive in a way she thought entirely inappropriate. She had no idea why. He was always so proper.
To her annoyance, Rutherford didn’t seem to notice her flirtation. In fact, as her eyes scanned the crowded room, she couldn’t see him anywhere. He’d paid her little attention other than to dance the first waltz with her.
Upon her arrival, Lord Rutherford had been waiting at the bottom of the stairs as she, her brother, and her sister-in-law were announced. He’d looked so handsome she’d almost forgotten to breathe. His fair hair had glinted gold in the glow from the candles flanking the edge of the ballroom. He was tall enough to stand a head above most of the guests. He looked like a Roman emperor with his strong nose and chiseled jaw, with cheekbones that gave his face a masculine beauty that could make a woman weep. When she’d drawn level with him, he’d taken her hand and kissed it. His caramel-colored eyes were filled with warmth and love.
That had been more than three hours ago. She’d slipped free of Beatrice’s constant presence and drifted through the crowd looking for Rutherford, without any luck. Her feet were beginning to hurt, so she looked around for a place she could sit without being observed and spied a private alcove. She moved toward it while dreaming of becoming his wife and learning about passion. Her untutored woman’s body warmed with desire just thinking about what it would be like to share a man’s bed. To be naked with him. To let him…To her horror, Maitland’s face flickered in her mind.
She put her hands to her heated face and turned, promptly colliding with what felt like a wall of rock. She looked up and her pleasant thoughts vanished. Maitland Spencer, the Cold Duke, gripped her waist to stop her from sliding to the floor. Her hands lay against his chest, granite beneath her fingertips.
