Page 59 of All you need is an Earl (Lords of Pleasure 2)

“I am confident in the Countess’s feelings,” Hughes said gently. Simon didn’t ask how he was confident. The staff always saw more than anyone else in the house. “Has the Countess told you otherwise, Milord?”

Simon thought of all of his interactions with Marion—he thought of her words spoken in passion, of her flustered, breathless intonations of, “I cannot!” the night before. Despite her distance and silence, she had never declared her disinterest in him.

“No,” Simon admitted, though he secretly thought that the problem was not that she didn’t love him, it was that perhaps she loved another man.

“But she has not affirmed that, either,” Simon added desolately.

“Well, have you affirmed your affection for her?” Hughes asked. His gentle question probed something inside him. Simon was shook to the core with the realisation. He had not spoken of his feelings to Marion. She didn’t know that he felt the way he did.

“I have not,” Simon said quietly, almost sheepishly.

“Well, perhaps it might be interesting to see if she has any thoughts on the matter,” Hughes said gently.

Simon sat, letting the words sink in. Marion didn’t know that he loved her! He suddenly imagined her meeting the man in the park. He imagined the rogue who she was meeting expressing his love to his wife, telling her that she was his world, and that this stranger’s love was powerful enough to motivate her to start an indiscretion with him. Would Marion be taken in by words of love from another man, since she had heard none from Simon? Simon stood up quickly, and Hughes looked up at him.

“Is something wrong, Milord?”

“Not at all,” Simon said, walking quickly to the door. “I am going to follow Marion to London. And Hughes, please get rid of that chair.”

* * *

Marion felt a swell of relief as the coach drew closer to Eleanor’s townhouse in the borough of Chelsea. She had been plagued by the nagging sensation of someone following her. She had glanced out of the back window of the coach several times but had seen nothing—no hints of consistent carriages or anything unusual, and yet the feeling of pervasive danger followed her.

“Here we are, My Lady,” the footman said, helping her step down to the pavement.

“Thank you,” she said, taking his hand briefly and then releasing it. “Take the carriage around to the Brixton stables. I shall only be an hour or so.”

The footman nodded and jumped back up next to the driver, the coach disappearing around the corner. Then, just as she stepped up to the black metal gate outside Eleanor and Nathan’s townhouse, someone stepped across her path.

“Excuse me,” she said, trying to step past him.

“Hold on there, love.” A vice-like grip latched on her arm, a rough voice with even rougher breath stunk up the air between them. Before she even looked up into his face, she knew who she was going to find and her stomach dropped brutally, her breath catching in her chest.

“Hello, Marion,” her father said, leering down at her.

“Fa - Mr Laurie,” Marion said, trying to wrench her arm from his grip but only feeling the burn of his fingers pressed heavily into her skin. “Unhand me!”

“I think not.” Ted Laurie tugged her closer, too close to be appropriate for a gentleman and a lady on the street. Marion squirmed in his grip, looking anxiously around the street and to Eleanor’s front door, barely meters away from them. What if someone should see? What would Eleanor say to see her with such a rough-looking, sour-faced man?

“I demand it!” Marion said, glaring up into his dark, murky eyes.

“Not until you follow me.” Ted’s hand was turning her arm numb and his eyes glittered dangerously. “I want to take my daughter on a little carriage ride.”

“No!” Marion blanched at the thought of it, despairing at the notion of spending more time in his company. “Absolutely not. Unhand me or I shall call for the constable.”

“I don’t think so.” Ted laughed and pulled her even closer, moving his other hand to inside his jacket. “I don’t think you’ll be calling for anyone, Marion.”

Marion’s heart nearly stopped. Inside his jacket was a pistol, pointing directly at her stomach. Marion swallowed hard, her blood running cold. She could feel trembling behind her knees, and tried to keep her thinking straight. She noticed her father’s wide pupils, the sweat on his temples and his rapid, rancid breath.

For the first time, she wondered if Ted Laurie was quite well—perhaps he was a madman. She knew that if that was the case, she had to protect herself—and most importantly, protect Simon, Eleanor and Nathan, and their children. She needed to get this dangerous man as far away from the people she loved as possible.

“Very well,” she swallowed heavily. “I will go with you.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Simon watched as Marion followed the man away from Eleanor’s front door. His own carriage had pulled up a few doors down from Nathan and Eleanor’s townhouse just in time to see Marion standing with a man outside.

“Stop here,” Simon said, tapping his cane against the side of his carriage, leaning forward to carefully watch his wife. His heart was pounding as he looked at Marion. She looked beautiful, of course, she always did, but it was only when Simon saw his wife out and about in the public sphere that he saw how beautiful she was compared to others. She was wearing a beautiful crimson ensemble that made her almond skin glow beautifully and set off her dark waves perfectly. Simon felt a reflexive pang of desire to see her looking so radiant—the colour of her gown reminded him so powerfully of the dress she had worn at Nathan and Eleanor’s ball, the one that had induced such incredible lust and desire in him and had somehow instigated their strange accidental marriage. She lit up the street.

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