“Good, then it shall go on as before between you and Max. I think, this time, you will meet in seclusion. A rendezvous between lovers who are not free to love, so the moment is especially piquant, oui? Would you like that, Marietta?”
She looked up, her tired eyes amused. “It sounds intriguing, Madame, as you meant it to. Where should we have this secluded rendezvous?”
Aphrodite smiled. “There is a villa in St. John’s Wood—it belongs to a prima donna, but she allows it to be used as an introducing house.”
Marietta looked confused.
“A prima donna is a kept woman, mon petit puce, and an introducing house is a place used by those who wish to remain incognito and yet meet others who are seeking similar entertainments. The villa is popularly known as the Lustful Lady. Max will have heard of it. You will meet him there tomorrow night at eleven o’clock. Do you think you can manage that, Marietta?”
“I am sure I can.” The Lustful Lady—what an appalling name! But even that could not stop the sense of anticipation that was already creeping over Marietta. It was as if she was no longer in control of her own desires, and remembering the warnings Max had given her that was certainly a worrying thing.
Marietta pondered whether she should mention to her mother that Max had asked her to marry him and go with him to Cornwall, but decided against it. Aphrodite might not think they should continue, or rightly suggest she find another man with whom she was not in danger of falling in love. And whatever the rights or wrongs of it, whatever the risk to herself, and despite knowing it could lead nowhere, Marietta wanted to continue making love with Max as long as possible—she wanted it desperately.
Max prowled his house in Bedford Square, each footfall sure and certain despite the darkness. The Pomeroys and Daniel were asleep in their quarters and he was all alone. This had been his home since he was a baby and he knew it so well he did not need to see—he could have walked about blindfolded. Soon this house would be gone, handed over to Harold and Susannah, and when his father…that is, the Duke of Barwon, was dead, they would have Valland House, too. The life that Max had been so complacent about had been changed irrevocably by his mother’s letter, and his father’s reading of it at the new year supper. He could still hear the duke’s voice, trembling a little at the end, but strong and burning with his righteous anger. It was Max who had weakened and stumbled from the room.
“…the affair was passionate and irresponsible, and a child was conceived. A son. What does a woman do in such a situation? Her lover has abandoned her to her fate and ruin stares her in the face. Even the most honorable of women is tempted to find a way out, and if a gentleman then offers for her and she finds that gentleman is in love with her, how can she say no? There are moments when she wishes to tell him the truth, many such moments, but as the days pass and his love deepens, she knows such revelations will destroy the happiness that could be hers. So she pretends the child is his, and he is overjoyed, and when the son is born no one comments upon his appearance. It is accepted that he is his father’s son. And he is named Max, and life goes on as if everything is as it should be and not a dreadful lie…”
Max shook the memory from his head and kept walking, his stride growing longer and more determined as he tried to put the memories behind him. There was no point in regretting what was done, that wouldn’t change anything. Max had been forcibly ejected from the bosom of the Valland family, and Ian Keith was right, there was a sort of freedom in that. His plan to reopen the mine was beginning to interest him more and more, and the duties and tasks he had been trained to take over on his father’s death less and less. He could be whatever he wished to be; his life was a chart upon which he could plot a new course.
Marietta.
He remembered her skin beneath his hands, the warmth of her kisses, her body trembling as he led her with him into sensual paradise. This need for her that was burning inside him was new and disturbing. Stupid, too, because before, when he was heir to the dukedom, thoughts of marriage hadn’t interested him. He had believed that he had plenty of time for such mundane matters—of course he knew he would have to marry and produce an heir some day, but he had been in no hurry.
If he had known Marietta then, would he have seen her as the woman he wanted above all others? Was Aphrodite right, would she have been on his carefully chosen list of prospective duchesses? Clearly Harold didn’t think so.
For a moment Max grew hot and angry, thinking of his cousin’s high-handed interference—but that would keep. He would instruct the Pomeroys to ignore anything Harold had told them, and the next time Harold showed his face here he would deal with him. Harold might have taken everything from him, but he would not take Marietta.
He leaned his head against the cool window and gazed down into the quiet square. Marietta would be awake now in that apricot bed, with the angels and cupids circling above her. He wondered whether she would be thinking of him, and decided she probably was. He had used her well, shown her pleasure that she had never known existed, and she had reveled in it. Still, knowing her as he did, he admitted that Aphrodite was probably right, and she would refuse to go to Cornwall as his wife. She had her stubborn sights set on being a courtesan.
Of course there was more to it than that. Her heart had been badly broken, and with the pain and disgrace that had come afterwards she was naturally wary about having it broken again. He understood that, he respected that.
But Max knew now that he wanted her enough to fight for her. Marietta had stepped into his life with her direct fearless gaze and decided opinions, and he wasn’t about to let her out again. He did not know if he loved her, but he wanted her. By God, he wanted her! Every moment he was away from her he wanted her more. It was as if she were a part of him now.
In Cornwall they could be happy, he was certain of it. Children would come, and Marietta would love them, as he would. A quiet life but a happy one—it had its appeal. And the nights, oh yes, the nights…
Marietta had begged him to teach her about desire; well, he was going to teach her! He was going to teach her so well that she would never want to be without him.
Chapter 14
Marietta was pale but determined as she prepared to leave the next morning to return to Berkley Square. Max could believe she would throw all her hopes and dreams away, if he liked, and run off with him to Cornwall, but he was deceiving himself and so he would discover soon enough. She would continue with their temporary affair, but it was just that—temporary.
Aphrodite was standing with her in the vestibule, awaiting the carriage. Marietta glanced at her mother. And that was another thing, Aphrodite was acting peculiarly. Several times she had smiled, a little secretive smile, but when Marietta asked her what she was thinking, her mother shrugged and said it was nothing.
Did Aphrodite know something she didn’t, and, if so, what could it be?
“I have something to tell you, mon petit puce!” Aphrodite had reclaimed her attention. “I have visited your father and asked him if he wants to meet you, and he says that he does.”
Marietta had an odd sense of fracture, as though this moment was not real at all, but a dream. Tears were stinging her eyes. She was going to meet her father. It should not matter to her so much—she had never believed it would—but now that it was happening, it did.
“He has been in seclusion in the country,” Aphrodite went on gently, patting her shoulder. “He prefers to live there, away from London. Perhaps you should prepare yourself for a rather melancholy meeting.”
“But…why has he been in seclusion? Is there something wrong with him?”
“It is a sad story, Marietta. Adam—that is your father’s name—had an accident. His legs were damaged when a carriage overturned. Once he was a lively man who enjoyed his life to the full, but now he cannot get about as he did. He is often in pain and he prefers to live a simple life, so that is what he does.”
Marietta didn’t know what to say. Her father was an invalid. “I-I am very so
rry for him then, Madame. Is he…has he a wife?”