To Trust a Rogue (The Heart of a Duke #8)(66)

“That is not all he is. I will enjoy stealing off to the gardens with him…” Another icy shiver raced along Eleanor’s spine as the young woman flounced her dark curls. Lady Marianne leaned close, dropping her voice to a barely discernible whisper. “And you do know much about midnight meetings in the gardens, don’t you?”

The earth shifted under her feet. Eleanor clutched her hands to her throat at the ugly, horrifying truth. She could not know. She could not. The young woman smiled through Eleanor’s silent torment. “After all, you are a widow and widows do know of midnight meetings in gardens, do they not?”

Eleanor dropped her arms to her sides and blinked once, twice, and a third time. Of course, she could not know. How could she? She balled her hands at her sides, detesting Lady Marianne Hamilton with a seething hatred. These grasping, title-seeking women who knew nothing of love and warmth. Eleanor tipped her chin up a notch. “Some lofty noblemen you speak of will assuredly wed you. But that man will not be Lord Wessex. He is entirely too good and clever to wed a coldhearted creature such as you.” She prayed her words to be true. For even as Eleanor with her tattered past no longer deserved him, this woman deserved him even less.

Lady Marianne gasped and Eleanor took advantage of the lady’s momentary shock. She turned on her heel and marched away, back to the curricle. Fury burned in her veins and fueled her movements. Surely Marcus would never fall prey to that viper’s charms? Surely he—She gasped as someone took her at her elbow. Drawing her arm back, she swung about, but Marcus easily clasped her wrist, catching the blow.

“Never tell me you intend to blacken my eye now?” Droll humor laced his question.

The tension drained to her feet and Eleanor loosened her arm. “Marcus,” she said flatly. “I did not hear you approach.”

“Because you were sprinting away.” He peered at her. “Did Lady Marianne say something to upset you?”

“No.” Yes. Nothing that wasn’t the truth, however. “We’ve accomplished the item on the list, Marcus. There is no longer a need for us to be here.”

A muscle jumped at the corner of his eye. “Of course,” he said tersely. He lifted her up and easily handed her into the seat. “Let us return, then, and cross this item from your list. I have issued an invitation for you and your aunt to join my family at the theatre later this week.” He tightened his mouth. “Another item to strike from your list.”

As the curricle lurched forward, Eleanor bit her lower lip to keep from giving in to tears. She stared blankly out at the merry couples; unfettered in their happiness. Her gaze snagged upon a young blonde woman seated beside a golden-haired gentleman. Their eyes and faces demonstrated none of the mistrust that time had wrought upon Eleanor and Marcus. In fact, she might be looking at the couple, as they would have been if life had carried along its safer, happier trajectory.

But it hadn’t. Life had intruded and they could never, ever be that couple. Even if he offered for her and she wanted to accept, which she did, she could never give him the heir and spare he required as viscount. For the passion he’d roused with his kisses, her panicked reaction that morning was proof that no matter how much she wished it or willed it to be different, her mind and body were equally broken.

Her heart spasmed and she rubbed her palm over her chest to dull the ache. Her efforts proved futile. That organ had been broken long ago and could never be healed. How was she going to survive the rest of the Season, loving him more and more each day, while the chasm between them grew wide?

She looked up at him; silent and stoic when he was only ever grinning and laughing. Mayhap Marcus would not hate her so. Mayhap he would understand if she let him into her world in ways she’d never let anyone other than her father in; and he’d taken the truths and secrets to his grave. The risks of confiding anything in anyone had been too great; for her, for Marcia, for their collective future. The world was unkind to unwed mothers. It was even more so to the bastard children of those shameful mothers. As much as Marcus despised her for shattering his heart, he would never jeopardize Marcia’s safety or security. His gentleness with Marcia, his willingness to help Eleanor accomplish the tasks set out for her by her uncle, were proof that he was the same man he’d always been.

Yes, Marcus might be the affable, charming rogue to Society, but he was still the fiercely loyal, considerate gentleman who’d first and forevermore captured her heart. He was unlike any other man.

And that was why he was deserving of the truth. So he could be free to make the match required of him as a viscount and not be burdened with the tasks Eleanor had been assigned by the late duke.

“Meet me in the gardens at quarter past the hour.”

For a long moment she suspected he’d not heard that barely there whisper, but then, with his gaze forward on the lines of curricles before them, he gave a tight nod.





Chapter 16


He was late. And Eleanor only knew he was late because she herself had not exited her chambers until quarter past the hour. Seated on the wrought iron bench, amidst the roses and gardenias, she scanned the garden wall separating their homes for sign of him.

A night breeze stirred the bushes and the cool air penetrated the fabric of her modest gray muslin dress. Her spectacles slipped down her nose and she removed the unnecessary pair. For eight years she’d almost never been without the lenses. Since she’d arrived in London, they’d been more of an afterthought. An afterthought when of all places, this is where she needed them most. She dropped her gaze to the rims. She’d used them as a means of protection. There had been something falsely reassuring about the spectacles. They were a kind of mask she’d put on to be what she wished the world to see because…what if they saw the truth? What if they saw the woman who was used and dirty and who still bore the traces of ugliness on her body and soul? More, what if Marcus saw her in all those worst possible ways? Tears flooded her eyes and she blinked back the useless drops. One squeezed past her lid and slid down her cheek, followed by another and another.