Deceived

“Exactly.” Marcus paused. “The marriage is a secret for the time being, however. I should be obliged if you would keep it so, Alistair.”

“Why?” his friend asked bluntly. “I mean, why is it a secret, not why should I help you keep it so, which goes without saying if you wish it of me.”

“There are various reasons,” Marcus said. “Firstly, my wife is unaware that I have achieved my release from prison and I wish to discuss the matter with her before our marriage becomes common knowledge. Secondly…” He hesitated. “Well, I have said that it is a match of convenience. It may be that the marriage will not endure long.”

Alistair was shaking his head. “Dashed irregular. The more I hear, the worse it becomes. Hope you know what you’re doing, Marcus.”

“I am not certain that I do,” Marcus conceded. “However, if I could ask you to keep the secret for now…?”

“Mute as an undertaker’s boy, I promise you,” Alistair said. He shook his head. “Lord, but I’d give a monkey to see the Dowagers’ faces when they realize another earl is off the marriage mart! And caught by a lady with such a scandalous reputation—” He stopped. There was a short and very pointed silence. The bleakness in Marcus’s heart was matched only by the pity in Alistair’s eyes.

“Just so,” Marcus said.

“My apologies,” Alistair said. “You will not wish to hear your wife’s name bandied about.”

Marcus shut his lips in a grim line. When Alistair had spoken he had felt the kick of rage through his body like a lightning strike. God help him, if a passing reference to Isabella could do this to him…he felt a white-hot possessive fury that beat anything he had ever experienced before. By rights Isabella Di Cassilis was his, now more than ever, and he would not rest until it was true in word and deed, and the memory of all that had gone before was wiped out.

He clenched his fists in his pockets and slowly released them.

“This is a marriage of convenience, Alistair,” he said, with a passable attempt at nonchalance.

“And so far the convenience appears to be all on the princess’s side,” Alistair pointed out. “I hesitate to appear meddlesome, Marcus, but what is the benefit to you?”

Marcus met his eyes very directly. “I want a reckoning. She owes me that.”

Alistair was shaking his head. “There is nothing so bitter and empty as revenge, Marcus. Let it go.”

“It is not for me,” Marcus argued, knowing that he was lying in part at least. “Princess Isabella drove a wedge between India and her mother that never healed.”

“And you feel guilty about India,” Alistair said heavily. “So you think to make Princess Isabella suffer for your guilt.”

The anger seethed within Marcus. “I would not allow many men to get away with such a remark,” he said through shut teeth.

“Not many men would have the guts to tell you the truth,” Alistair said with unimpaired calm.

The tension in the room simmered down a degree. Marcus gave a short laugh. “Damn you, Alistair.”

“By all means, old fellow,” Alistair agreed.

There was a silence.

“I do feel guilty,” Marcus admitted, after a moment. “India and I led such separate lives. I was never there for her.”

“She would still have died, Marcus. You were not responsible for that.”

Marcus moved restlessly. “If I had been here in Town instead of at Stockhaven…”

Alistair shook his head. “Marcus, she stepped in front of a carriage. It was an accident.”

Marcus did not reply. He wondered if there would ever come a time when he could think of his late wife without the mixture of paralyzing guilt and remorse that he felt now.

“I do not suppose,” he said after a moment, “that you know where Princess Isabella will be this evening?”

Alistair looked at him suspiciously. “What, am I your social secretary now? She is your wife. That is the sort of thing that a husband should know.”

Marcus sighed. “Touché, old chap. So?”

Alistair sighed, too. “You will find her at the Duchess of Fordyce’s ball. The old lady is very high in the instep, but not too high to welcome royalty.”

“Foreign royalty with a tarnished reputation?”

“Always welcome. It gives Her Grace’s guests something to talk about.”

“Hmm.” Marcus found that he disliked the idea of people gaping at Isabella as though she were a freak show. He knew he should not give a rush either way, but he did, and the knowledge was not entirely welcome.

“Do you have an invitation?” he inquired.

Alistair looked wry. “Second sons do not receive invitations to the Duchess of Fordyce’s events, Marcus.” He frowned. “I thought that we were going to White’s tonight?”

Marcus shook his head. “My plans have changed. I would like to indulge my sudden taste for society. Do you think the Duchess would welcome an itinerant earl, if not a younger son?”

“If the earl were rich and respectable enough, he would be welcomed with open arms,” Alistair said dryly. “I am not certain that she approves of you, though, Marcus. You are somewhat disreputable.”

Marcus looked offended. “I am not!”

“Well, at the least you are…” Alistair waved his hand about vaguely as though trying to pluck a description from the air. “Eccentric. Different. You are not in the normal run of earls. You have odd interests.”

“My interests are not odd.”

Alistair picked a book from the table and tilted it toward the lamplight. “Theoretical Naval Architecture,” he read aloud. “I rest my case.”

Marcus shrugged. “I am undertaking the design of a new frigate for the admiralty. They are plagued by those fast ships of the American Navy and wish to match their skill.”

Alistair laughed. “I doubt that such projects, worthy as they are, will convince the Duchess of Fordyce that you are anything other than unconventional, Marcus.”

“Well, if the duchess will not invite me then I must invite myself,” Marcus said. “I doubt that she will go so far as to throw me from the door.”

Alistair raised his brows critically. “You will attend a society ball looking like that?”

“Of course.” Marcus got to his feet. “My story is that I am but recently returned from Italy. They are a great deal more casual in their dress on the continent.”

“They would need to be deplorably so to pass muster looking as you do,” Alistair said with a grin. “However, if we are fortunate, the evening will already be well advanced and no one will notice us.”

“On the contrary,” Marcus said, “I intend to make an entrance.”

“To what purpose?”

Marcus’s eyes gleamed. “To disconcert my wife, of course. It will be my pleasure.”