A Whisper of Desire Read online

  “Bloody hell! It won’t seem strange? You want me to act the fop? My father was known to engage in numerous perversions; I’ve taken great pains to ensure there are no such rumors like that about me. Besides, I’ve just got married.”

  Arend waved that point away. “A rushed marriage to a friend’s daughter. It could almost look as if it was a cover. As a duke, you’ll be expected to sire children, regardless of your inclinations.”

  Maitland nodded. The reasoning was sound, but he didn’t like where this was heading. He valued his reputation, and putting it in jeopardy was not to be borne.

  “If a dandy accompanied you, it may seem, now that you are safely married, you’re freer to indulge your other tastes.”

  Maitland looked at Arend in horror. “This is my reputation.”

  “It’s our lives, or the life of Marisa, Helen, the other wives.”

  “Christ, I need a drink.” He rose and poured himself a brandy. Sitting back down, he eyeballed Arend. “I might be prepared to use my money to break the house, but over the days I play at the club I will be expected to indulge these tastes you wish me to embrace, and I am certainly not up for frolicking with my own kind.”

  Arend sighed. “Just listen. This is the part that may annoy you.” He looked at Maitland before looking away. “I suggest we dress Marisa up as a young man and she can accompany you. Her build is similar to a young man’s. That way when you go upstairs for ‘fun’ you’ll not garner suspicion or have to do anything that repulses you.”

  Maitland sat there, stunned. “Did you just suggest I take my wife to a sodomites’ den, perhaps putting her in danger?”

  “I’m happy to bow to any other suggestions. If you’d prefer to take me, and go upstairs with me, then by all means.”

  Maitland considered this a far better solution. “Well, that sounds far more sensible.”

  Arend leaned forward. “Do you want to suck my cock or shall I suck yours?”

  “What the hell?” Maitland spluttered.

  “They have spy holes. Someone will be watching to begin with, to ensure you are indeed ‘one of them.’ I thought we may well get away with it if you had your wife on her knees. Just keep her clothes on, your clothes can come off.”

  Maitland’s body rollicked with revulsion. “You really are a coldhearted bastard.” How did he explain to a man like Arend that one did not ask one’s wife to get on her knees and…God damn, his body tightened at the thought. He must be sick like his father to get aroused by the idea of his wife using her mouth on him while others watched.

  Arend simply sat, taking sips of his coffee as if they were discussing the weather. Unable to hold on to his temper he slammed the cup down. “Maitland, do you think I’d be here suggesting this if I had thought of another way?” He ran a hand through his hair. “We are running out of time. Either Angelo is in our enemy’s employ or he is trying to gather more information on her, so he can play us off against each other.”

  “Or, in fact, he knows nothing.”

  “True, but he probably knows something now. I have been having his men followed. He has started investigating the name we gave him. Either way, I want the truth, and only hitting him where it hurts will we get the truth from him.”

  Maitland sat watching his friend for several moments. Arend’s dislike of Angelo seemed personal. “Have you encountered Angelo before?”

  Maitland watched myriad emotions cross Arend’s face. Hatred, shame, anger, and despair. “I know him, and he knows me. We have a past. A past I’m not going to talk about.”

  “Will this past relationship endanger this charade? I don’t want Marisa getting hurt.” Maitland refilled his tea. “By the way, I’ll leave it to you to tell Sebastian of this plan—all of the details. He’s likely to call you out.” He took a sip of brandy and stretched his legs under the table. “A brother always loves to hear that his sister is to be taken to a Molly club to pretend to be one, and that she will be watched performing a sex act on her husband.”

  “It’s not as if she’s not seen it being done…”

  Arend’s mouth snapped shut as he suddenly remembered who he was talking to, Marisa’s husband.

  Maitland’s body tensed. “So it was you she saw.” His voice sounded like a growl to him. He hated that Marisa had seen Arend like that. The only man she should think about in his bed is him. He surprised himself at how much the idea of Marisa’s getting turned on by looking at Arend annoyed him.

  “She told you?”

  Maitland looked him in the eye. “Marisa is my wife.”

  Arend had the grace to look sheepish. “It was not my fault. I had no idea that she was there.”

  “Then we will talk of it no more.”

  The two men eyed each other like gladiators before Arend nodded and looked away.

  Only then did Maitland’s fists unclench. He didn’t like the emotions roiling in his gut. He could quite easily reach across and beat his friend to a messy pulp.

  Arend rose from his chair. “So are we in agreement?”

  “Let me consider your plan and discuss it with Marisa. Are you going to tell Sebastian?”

  “I’d thought we’d leave that until after we have the information we require. There is no point upsetting him, or Beatrice, in her delicate condition.”

  Maitland rose too. He had several things that needed his attention in his study, one of those being to let Priscilla know of his wedding. He should have thought of it sooner. He didn’t want her, or his sisters, to hear of it from someone else.

  “I shall send you a missive once I have made my decision.”

  Arend offered his hand. “Don’t take too long. Hadley and I are getting nervous. Besides, who says she’s finished with any of us. We are all still in danger.” With that comforting thought, Arend took his leave and Maitland made his way to his study.

  —

  Marisa woke to the sound of the draperies being pulled. Brilliant sunshine flooded the room and she stretched like a cat waking before a warm fire.

  “I’ve taken the liberty of drawing you a bath, Your Grace,” Susan said, as she carried a robe into the bathing chamber that adjoined her and her husband’s rooms. They each had doors that gave them access from either side.

  “Stop being so formal. You’ve always called me Marisa.”

  Susan gave her a warm smile, the lines on her face becoming more prominent. Susan had been her lady’s maid for only a few years, but she’d served Marisa’s aunt for almost twenty-five years. “I knew you’d marry well, but a duchess! It is appropriate that I address you as such if you are to earn the trust and respect of the household staff.”

  Marisa thought on that. It was fairly daunting, the idea that she was now responsible for running this home, and Maitland’s many other homes. “You will call me Marisa when we are alone, lest this title goes to my head.”

  “That would be acceptable. I shall try to help you navigate the staff as much as possible. I realize your aunt tried to instill the requirements of running a large household to both of you girls, but as I remember, you didn’t pay as much attention as did Helen.”

  She deserved Susan’s light scolding. At the time, she had not understood the reality of her future station; now it was crashing down on her. “Thank you. I do feel rather overwhelmed.” Suddenly aware of the brilliant sunshine, she asked, “What time is it?”

  “ ’Tis after two, and your sister and Beatrice are coming at three, and you’ve yet to meet the staff.”

  “Now you tell me.” Marisa threw back the covers, heedless of the scant negligee. “Why did you not wake me earlier? Maitland must think me a wastrel to have slept so late. Goodness, I still have to bathe.”

  She wondered what Maitland did think of her. It hurt that he hadn’t wanted to spend the night with her. After being as close to a man as any woman could be, his casual dismissal made her feel insignificant. She felt as if she might have done something wrong.

  No. She’d given all of herself, whereas Maitl
and seemed to hold himself back, as if it was a sin to show any emotion at all. Had she given too much? Was a lady supposed to be so enthusiastic?

  Susan’s face flushed. “I suspect you’ll need a bath, Your Grace. Besides, His Grace is out at present, but he left instructions to leave you sleeping. You’re to attend Lord and Lady Hutchinson’s ball this evening. I’m assuming he doesn’t want you tired out after the wedding night.” Susan raised a knowing eyebrow.

  Marisa’s face heated and she quickly made her way to the tub, grateful to sink into the hot water. She ached in places she’d never ached before. Her head ached almost as much as her muscles did. She was pleased Beatrice was coming; if only she could have a private word without Helen being there. She didn’t want Helen to worry about her. Helen didn’t like this forced marriage and was not prepared to like Maitland yet. She didn’t want to make her sister’s opinion of her husband any worse.

  Maitland had suggested that if they married, their life together would be based on friendship. How did one define friendship when you shared a bed? After what they did in his bed last night, she wasn’t sure it would be enough for her. To be intimate, to give of yourself, night after night, and not have that deepen into more would likely cheapen all she had experienced, leaving her empty and alone.

  Last night she thought what they had shared was special, but she knew from her brother’s reputation that men were perfectly capable of separating the act of love with loving. If Maitland could simply dismiss her like a maid, it obviously had not been special to him.

  That’s what hurt the most. Maitland was unaffected, whereas he’d changed her. His touch, his kiss, his passion, created a yearning deep inside. She wanted love. Since she was now married, it had to be his love.

  She closed her eyes and laid her head against the side of the tub and let the heat try to soothe her battered soul. She was dangerously enamored of a man who might not even be capable of any deeper emotion.

  Beatrice managed to win the heart of her brother, one of London’s most infamous rakes, a man who despised love. She must have answers. She would know what to do.

  As Marisa dressed, she tried to concentrate on Susan’s prattle about who was who on the staff, but her mind was too occupied with other worries of a more intimate nature.

  All right, she thought, as Susan fastened her gown, she needed to get Beatrice alone. Susan could help with that. “Susan, I need a moment alone with Beatrice when they visit. Can you distract Helen for me? Perhaps you could say you’d like her opinion on a gown I want to wear but you’re unsure of the suitability of the neckline.”

  “That’s flimsy. Helen will know it’s a ploy.”

  “Most likely, but she’ll graciously agree. She’ll know I can’t discuss certain intimacies with her. She’ll follow your lead.”

  “When should I interrupt?”

  “Once we’ve had tea. As it’s almost three now, I’ll meet the staff after they leave. Can you let Brunton know to have the staff ready at half after four? That will still give me plenty of time to dress for the ball.”

  “You haven’t eaten today. Do you want something more substantial than the scones with tea?”

  Marisa wasn’t hungry. The ball she could handle. She’d been the belle of enough of them. What she worried about was what would happen after the ball. Would Maitland come to her? She was not going to instigate intimacy as she did last night. The fear of being rejected was simply too great. She wanted to see if he truly desired her. If the feelings rushing round her body were rioting inside Maitland, he’d come to her bed. If he didn’t…She didn’t want to think what that might mean—for her and their marriage.

  Chapter 8

  Susan finished pinning the last curl on her head and Marisa gave her a warm smile. She was excited about the ball. It was her first appearance as the Duchess of Lyttleton and she was looking forward to conversing with her friends. There would be awkward questions about Rutherford, but she and Helen had come up with a story.

  She was tired of waiting for Lord Rutherford to make up his mind, and Maitland came in and swept her off her feet. She fell head over heels in love with him. Not quite as much of a lie as it may seem. She had a feeling she was falling for him; even if one day and one night of marriage was not long enough to be sure.

  Her earlier talk with Beatrice had been rather disappointing. Beatrice said the night of their wedding she and Sebastian discussed how the marriage should work. She suggested Marisa sit down and talk to Maitland about what she desired in the marriage. If sharing his bed each night was important to her, then she should make him realize that.

  A chance to talk with Maitland would be a fine thing. By the time she’d taken tea with Helen and Beatrice, then met with the staff and let Mrs. Heyer, the housekeeper, introduce her to the large house, she’d had to hurry with her toiletry in order to be ready for the ball.

  Taking on her duties gave her the courage to do what must be done. She had to grow up and take half the responsibility for this marriage. Maitland couldn’t read her mind. She would have to explain to him what she desired. The idea of coaxing a man who kept his emotions on a tight rein to reveal his feelings did not sit well in her stomach. It was fluttering as if she’d swallowed a buzzing bee.

  She made her way to the staircase and was about to descend, when she spied Maitland waiting for her in the entrance hall. He was pacing, slapping his gloves against his thigh. He looked like a caged panther, dark and sleek, with suppressed power and hidden danger.

  Her heart quivered as she soaked in the vision of potent masculinity below. Why had she never noticed how broad his shoulders were, how his black hair gleamed in the light and how the curls beckoned her fingers to tug them? She felt a jolt down to her toes. Her breath faltered and a buzzing began in her ears.

  At that moment he looked up and his frown disappeared and a genuine smile lit his face as he watched her descend. He was so handsome. She was a lucky woman.

  He moved to greet her at the bottom of the stairs, placing a kiss on her cheek.

  “I will be proud to escort such a beautiful woman tonight, and to share with the ton how lucky I am to have you as my wife.” His husky voice sent heat licking over her skin.

  “What a lovely thing to say, thank you. You look very handsome tonight yourself.”

  He tucked her hand over his arm and escorted her to his carriage. As they settled on the squabs, Marisa asked, “What are you going to tell people about our rushed wedding? No doubt Lady Dunmire has told, well, everyone.”

  “I will say it was a prudent choice to align two great families. No one will raise an eyebrow at the logic of this match.”

  “So romantic.”

  He looked at her as if she were a child. “A duke does not marry for love. There are far more important considerations. If we try to say it’s a love match no one will believe it. They will think we are hiding some big scandal.”

  She turned away to look out of the carriage window. She looked at the houses they passed, wondering at the couples that lived in them. Were the couples that lived there happy? Were they marriages of convenience or were they homes filled with love? Finally she turned to look at her husband.

  “Rutherford is likely to be there. Do you think he will cause a scene?”

  “I doubt it. He’s young and he never formally proposed, and if we appear happy, no one will think it strange that you accepted me instead. I am a duke and he merely a marquess in waiting.”

  She would like a quiet word with Rutherford. The cad. The one thing she did know was she was better off being married to Maitland, a man who didn’t love her but respected her, than to Rutherford, a man who simply disrespected everything about her.

  —

  She held tightly to Maitland’s arm as they waited at the top of the stairs to be announced at Lord and Lady Hutchinson’s ball. When the butler announced the Duke and Duchess of Lyttleton, it appeared that the chatting below stopped and all heads turned their way. The moment of stillness passed
as quickly as it came, and by the time they reached the ballroom floor the couple was surrounded by well-wishers, including Beatrice and Sebastian, Hadley and Helen, and Arend.

  “I will see you for the first waltz and I’d like to take you into supper,” Maitland said before he added, “The men and I will be in the card room, should you require me for anything.”

  With that, the men left the ladies and Marisa was free to answer all the questions about her unexpected marriage from the other young ladies who’d been debutantes with her. Most of them had become engaged or married during the season and didn’t see anything out of the ordinary about her brother insisting she marry his friend the duke.

  Her dance card, as usual, quickly filled up. Maitland dutifully arrived for the first waltz and she found it difficult to focus on her steps. The feel of his arms about her sent images racing into her head of the things he’d done to her last night. She looked forward to more of the same tonight, and scandalously she’d moved closer to him as he’d twirled her around the floor, his powerful thighs feeling solid through the thin silk of her dress. For one moment she thought she’d felt something else solid pushing against her stomach when they briefly brushed each other. Her face had heated, while Maitland had shown no reaction at all. She must have imagined it.

  Later, a few of her friends, including Helen, decided to escape onto the terrace for a breath of fresh night air before supper was called.

  Marisa was content to lean against the balustrade and listen to the excited chatter. Helen was the current topic of conversation, with her friends trying to wangle who had taken her fancy. Marisa smiled at Helen’s skilled deflection. She knew her sister harbored a crush on Lord Fullerton. Her heart ached because she thought Hadley a decent man, but he was totally oblivious to Helen’s crush, and because of that he inadvertently encouraged her feelings. She wondered if she should have a word with him or, better yet, get Maitland to have a word.

  Lost in thought, wondering if there was a way she could bring Hadley and Helen together, she didn’t hear the footsteps approach until a whiff of sandalwood invaded her nostrils. She knew that scent, and if she were a cat her hackles would have definitely risen.