"Thank you, Jude," he said. "do have a drink. We need to talk. And I'd caution you to consider this more carefully."
Shrugging, Jude turned and let himself out of the study. He didn't need to consider it further. If he could persuade her to give up her affection for pretty boys, Marissa York would make a fine and naughty wife. But pretty boys congregated in droves at these parties. Jude had set himself up for a serious challenge.
Chapter 2
Marissa waved her hands in helpless frustration as her maid pulled hard on the corset strings. The morning sun mocked her with its cheery brightness as it slanted past the window. Marissa glared at the light, her legs burning with the need to move, to pace, to run to the door and fling it open. "Oh, do hurry," she whispered, clasping her frantic hands together to stop their useless shaking.
The night before, she'd thought she would never sleep. Terror and regret had fought a war for her attention after she'd been sent to her room, and the battle had left her restless. She'd tossed and turned, then paced miles across her chambers, trying to think of a way out of this horrid situation.
No one had come to speak with her, and she'd been too mortified to request an audience. The waiting had been sheer torture.
But in the end, she had slept, and she'd slept too late.
This morning, she found that regret had won the night's battle, and now she felt sick with it.
What had she done ?
Edward's terse note glared white against the dark wood of the dressing table. The writing was spiked with anger, vastly unlike his normally careful hand.
Marissa was wanted in his study immediately. Her fate awaited her. If only she'd been awake and dressed when the footman had delivered the note, she would be there already.
The maid finally drew a dress over her head, and Marissa breathed a sigh of relief as she stared down at the somber shade of pale gray. Perhaps her brother was feeling regret too. Perhaps he'd changed his mind.
My God, how stupid she'd been. How foolish and reckless. It must have been the wine. Yes, the wine. And the fine cut of Peter White's new coat. And as he'd danced, his trousers had tightened over his thighs, revealing every line of their ... elegance.
Men's legs were just so lovely. Slim and strong and exposed in a way that ladies' legs never were. How could they expect that girls should not be affected by the sight? Gentlemen obviously intended to be admired, the way they flashed their thighs about, hardly covered at all in the tight cloth of their trousers.
What hypocrites they were, showing off their bodies and expecting her not to look. Or touch.
Still, she shouldn't have given in to temptation, for it hadn't been worth it. Not as it had been worth it before. Before, there had been much more than fumbling and regret. There had been . . .
Marissa sighed even more deeply, certain she'd never experience such deliciousness again.
"There you are, miss," the maid said. She was new, and betrayed her nervousness by giving one last tweak to the sleeve of the dress.
Marissa nodded. She liked this new girl, but if her old maid hadn't run off two weeks before, Marissa would have someone to talk to. As it was, she felt like an island.
Though Marissa was free to descend to the study, she stared at the door. Aidan must know by now. He hadn't come to her room last night, which likely meant he was too furious to talk. Edward never frightened her, but Aidan ... he was a different sort of man these days, and she worried that she would burst into tears the moment he turned his disappointed glare on her.
He'd once been joyful and charming, but then he'd suffered his own private scandal. The girl he'd loved and meant to marry had died. His anger and guilt over the wretched circumstances had changed him. Now her handsome brother was as cold as he'd once been charming. Marissa did not want to face him.
But it was time to pay the piper, so she gave herself a somber nod and set off for the study.
She expected to find Edward there, of course. And she feared she'd find Aidan as well. But she did not expect a whole room full of gentlemen, all looking toward her as she stood frozen in the doorway.
To be fair, there were only four of them, her brothers and her cousin and another man who looked vaguely familiar. She had the brief impression that perhaps he was a groundskceper, but she could not puzzle that out now, for Edward was walking toward her with a grim set to his mouth.
Her eyes rolled with a touch of panic, and she caught sight or her mother in a corner chair, but her mother would offer no refuge. Her eyes were closed, and she'd pressed a cold compress to her head.
Marissa would face the men of her family alone.
"Marissa." Edward kissed her cheek and took her hands as if she were made of the thinnest glass. "Are you well?"
"Yes, quite."
"You're sure? You do not feel... injured?"
"Not at all." She pushed up on her toes to whisper in his ear. "Is Aidan very angry with me?"