Page 16 of Marigold and the Marquess
Perhaps this is something he would do after discovering the identity of the man who had betrayed him. He wanted to kill him slowly, make him suffer as much as he had endured while imprisoned in that pit.
Then again, a quick killing would also satisfy him.
The point of his plan was to see justice done. That he was judge, jury of his peers, and executioner was beside the point. He could not move on with his life until achieving the satisfaction of a revenge completed.
He shook out of his dark thoughts.
Think of Marigold.
She would never have him if she knew he was a cold-blooded killer.
What did it matter? He’d only known the girl a few hours. He would take whatever innocent enjoyment he could and simply pass the day with her.
Tomorrow was Lady Balfour’s ball. This is when he would start reacquainting himself with the men, diplomats and fellow officers, assigned to the delegation he had been leading into foreign lands when captured and tossed into that dark pit.
He would start asking all the questions that should have been asked four years ago.
Feeling too restless to return to his bed, he dressed and took his powerful gray stallion, Archimedes, for an early morning run in the park. Afterward, he returned to his townhouse, wishing he could wash the demons out of his soul as easily as he could wash the sweat off his body.
After washing and dressing, he sorted through the pile of Muir estate matters that were atop his desk awaiting his attention. He dealt with the most pressing, and as the ten o’clock hour approached, he ordered his carriage readied. “Have Collins draw it up in front of the Farthingale residence.”
“At once, my lord,” Sterling said, attending to it with the same quiet efficiency as he attended to all of his requests.
Leo walked over to the Farthingale home.
He knew John and Sophie would question his motives in escorting Marigold. A few minutes in idle chatter with them might allay their concerns. Perhaps Sophie herself would chaperone them, for neither she nor John would ever allow Marigold to ride alone with him. He was an unmarried man with a reputation for seducing ladies.
The reputation was unearned.
He was not a hound by nature.
But what was a man to do when ladies approached offering wild nights of pleasure? He usually made polite excuses and declined. But sometimes, he accepted the invitation. He was not a eunuch, after all. “Good morning, Pruitt,” he said as the butler opened the door to let him in. “Is Mr. Farthingale at home?”
The old Scot’s lips twitched in the semblance of a smile. “All three brothers happen to be at home and waiting for ye, my lord.”
“Three?” He chuckled. “Lead the way.”
He knew George Farthingale quite well since he was the man who had worked the miracle on his ailing body. He had met and chatted with John more than a time or two since acquiring his home across the street, and now allowed himself to be introduced to Rupert Farthingale, the brother who did most of the traveling for the family business.
Leo noticed at once where Marigold got her looks, for it was known that many of these Farthingales had dark hair and blue eyes. These three brothers were no exception, although they were all graying at the temples now. “I assume you will provide a proper chaperone for Marigold,” he said, staring at the three stern faces studying him.
John was the eldest and obviously the patriarch of the family, but it was George who answered for them. “Oh, yes. You will have the pleasure of meeting Aunt Hortensia. She will keep eagle eyes on Marigold,” George said, his grin wide.
Gad, they were setting the old battleaxe on him.
All for the best, he supposed. Not even he trusted himself to behave around Marigold. She was too delicious and he already ached to have her in his arms. “I look forward to it.”
Now all three brothers were grinning, but it was only brief humor at his expense before they turned serious. “Marigold told us what happened yesterday,” George said. “Let me have a look at your hand.”
Leo sighed as he held it out. “It is nothing. The swelling has already subsided.”
George pressed carefully on the bones of his hand then flexed his fingers one by one. “Yes, nothing damaged. Now let’s get down to the important business. What are your intentions toward Marigold?”
“I have no intentions toward her. Yesterday was just happenstance. No one was available when she returned home with her valuable artifacts. I offered to assist her in delivering them to Huntsford’s museum. It was a good thing, too. Do you have any idea how dangerous this archeology business can be?”
“Yes, we do,” John said, “but Marigold will not be talked out of this hobby of hers, especially not now that she has made this extraordinary find.”
“We’re hoping Sophie and the other ladies in the family will make her see reason,” Rupert added.
