A Not So Respectable Gentleman?

‘What are you doing?’ his partner cried. ‘The set is unfinished.’

‘I must leave.’ Leo did not explain.

He hurried out to the street. The night was damp after a day of steady rain. The cobbles glistened under the lamplight and the sound of horses’ hooves rang like bells.

Leo walked, hoping the night air would cool emotions he thought had vanished long ago.

Kellford had once boasted of being a devotee of the Marquis de Sade, the French debaucher so depraved even Napoleon had banned his books. ‘The man was a genius,’ Kellford had said of de Sade. ‘A connoisseur of pleasure. Why should I not have pleasure if I wish it?’

Now all Leo could picture was Kellford engaging in pleasure with Mariel.

A coachman shouted a warning to Leo as he dashed across Piccadilly. He found himself wandering towards Grosvenor Square within blocks of Covendale’s London town house. From an open window in one of the mansions, an orchestra played ‘Bonnie Highland Laddie,’ a Scottish reel. It was near the end of the Season and some member of the ton was undoubtedly hosting a ball.

Did Mariel attend? Leo wondered. Was she dancing with Kellford?

He turned away from the sound and swung back towards Grosvenor Square, staring past the buildings there as if looking directly into her house on Hereford Street.

Had her father approved this marriage? Surely Covendale had heard talk of Kellford’s particular habits.

Or perhaps not. One disadvantage of living a respectable life was being unaware of how low deeply depraved men could sink.

Leo flexed his hand into a fist.

He’d vowed to have nothing more to do with Covendale or his daughter, but could he live with himself if he said nothing? If he’d save a Viennese tavern maid from Kellford’s cruelty, surely he must save Mariel from it.

He turned around and headed back to his rooms.

No brandy this night. He wanted a clear head when he called upon Covendale first thing in the morning.

Chapter Two

‘Do not walk so fast, Penny.’ Mariel Covendale came to an exasperated halt on the pavement.

‘Sorry, miss.’ Her maid returned to her with head bowed.

Mariel sighed. ‘No, I am sorry. I did not mean to snap at you. It is merely that I am in no great rush to return home.’

Penny, a petite but sturdy blonde, so pretty she would have been prime prey in any household with young sons about, looked at her soft-heartedly. ‘Whatever you wish, miss.’

The maid deliberately slowed her steps. After a few minutes, she commented, ‘You did not find anything to purchase. Not even fabric for your bridal clothes.’ Penny sounded more disappointed than Mariel felt.

Mariel smiled. ‘That is of no consequence.’

In truth, she’d not cared enough to make a purchase. She’d merely wished to escape the house and her parents for time alone. Time to think. So she’d risen early and taken Penny with her to the shops. They’d browsed for hours.

Penny’s brow furrowed. ‘I cannot help but worry for you, miss, the wedding so close and everything.’

Too close, Mariel thought.

They crossed Green Street and Penny pulled ahead again, but caught herself, turning back to Mariel with an apologetic glance.

The girl was really a dear and so devoted that Mariel had been tempted to make her a confidante.

Better to say nothing, though. Why burden her poor maid?

Instead she gazed up at the sky, unusually blue and cloudless this fine spring day. Yesterday’s rains had washed the grey from London’s skies. Weather always improved if one merely has patience.

Unfortunately Mariel saw only grey skies ahead for her. And she had no time for patience.

For Penny’s sake, though, she forced her mood to brighten. ‘It is a lovely day, I must admit. That is reason enough to dally.’

Penny gave her a quizzical look. ‘If you do not mind me saying, miss, you are so very at ease about everything, but it is only three weeks until your wedding, and you have no bridal dress or new clothes or anything.’

So very at ease? That was amusing. Mariel must be a master of disguise if Penny thought her at ease. ‘I have many dresses. I’m sure to have enough to wear.’ She wanted no special bridal clothes. ‘If you like, tomorrow we can search for lace and trim to make one of my gowns more suitable for the ceremony.’

It was as good an excuse as any to be out and about again and Penny was a creative seamstress.

‘We could do that, miss,’ the maid agreed.

Coming from the shops on New Bond Street, they had meandered through Mayfair, passing by Grosvenor Square and the Rhedarium Gardens, but now they were within a short walk of the town house she shared with her parents.

If this wedding were not looming over her, she’d be happily anticipating summer months in their country house in Twickenham. She missed her younger sisters, although it was good they had not been old enough for the London Season and all the pressures it brought. At twenty-three, Mariel had seen many Seasons, had many proposals of marriage.

Only one mattered, though, but that proposal occurred when she’d been two years younger and foolish enough to believe in a man’s promises.

Foolish enough for a broken heart.

Luckily her powers of disguise had hidden the effect of that episode well enough. No one but her father ever knew about her secret betrothal. Or her heartbreak. She’d even trained herself not to think of it.

Mariel’s throat constricted as they reached the corner of Hereford Street. She dreaded entering the house, facing her mother’s unabashed joy at her impending marriage and her father’s palpable relief.

Her spirits sank lower and lower as she and Penny neared the end of the street.

When they were within steps of the town house, its door opened and a man emerged.

He turned towards them and the sun illuminated his face. ‘Mariel?’

She froze.

This man was the one person she thought never to see again, never wished to see again. He was the man to whom she’d been secretly betrothed, the man who had just inhabited her thoughts.

The man who had deserted her.

Leo Fitzmanning.

He was as tall as ever, his hair as dark, his eyes that same enthralling hazel. His face had become leaner these last two years, more angular with tiny lines creasing the corners of his eyes.

She straightened, hoping her ability to mask her emotions held strong.