Virtue

22

Marcus was up early the next morning, and within minutes the household was scurrying under a barrage of orders. Gregson was informed that his lordship was going into the country for a couple of weeks. Cheveley and Millie were instructed to pack for their employers and then to travel immediately to Berkshire. The traveling chaise with two outriders was ordered to be at the door by ten o'clock.

Marcus then strode down to the breakfast parlor, a distinct spring in his step. He was addressing a planer of sirloin when Charlie precipitately entered the parlor.

Marcus looked up in surprise, a smile of greeting on his lips. It died as he recognized Charlie's air of somewhat defensive bellicosity. It was a look he'd worn as a child when he considered his guardian guilty of some injustice and had screwed up his courage for a confrontation.

"What's to do, Charlie?" Marcus asked, without preamble.

"Where's Judith?" his young cousin demanded. "Gregson says she's gone to look after a sick aunt, but she doesn't have an aunt… sick or otherwise-at least not in England."

"Oh, how do you know that?" Marcus inquired calmly, refilling his coffee cup.

"Because she told me," Charlie stated. He glared at Marcus. "So where is she?"

"Sit down," Marcus said, gesturing to a chair. "And stop glowering at me, Charlie."

"I don't want to sit down," Charlie said. "I want to know where Judith is. I saw her yesterday and she didn't say she was going anywhere."

"Does she give you a report on all her movements?" Marcus asked gently.

Charlie's neck reddened and his scowl deepened. "Of course not, but she wouldn't go off without telling me. I know it."

Marcus sighed. "So what are you suggesting? You're surely not accusing me of disposing of her in some way, are you?" His eyebrows lifted quizzically.

Charlie's flush deepened at the sardonic question. "No, of course not… only… only…"

"Yes?" Marcus prompted.

"Only maybe you upset her in some way," his cousin blurted out. "I know how deuced cutting you can be when you're displeased."

Marcus frowned. "Am I really that unpleasant in our dealings, Charlie? I intend only to stand your friend."

"Yes, I know." Charlie fiddled with a fork on the table, in evident embarrassment. "It's just that you're

devilish strict in some things, and you've a rough tongue that can make a fellow feel like a worm."

Marcus winced at this plain speaking, but was obliged to acknowledge there was some justice in the complaint. He examined his cousin thoughtfully. This couldn't be easy for Charlie, who was never comfortable asserting himself. Judith certainly had the power to inspire loyalty and friendship. He wondered why he hadn't been struck before by the strength of the attachments she'd formed in the few short months since she'd been in London.

"I only want to ensure that you have a fortune to come into when you reach your majority," he said mildly.

"But where's Judith?" Charlie sat down abruptly and stabbed at a rasher of bacon with the fork. "She's not hurt, is she?"

Marcus shook his head. "Not as far as I know, Charlie. Arid certainly not at my hands, if that's what you're thinking."

Charlie chewed bacon and swallowed. "But where is she?"

Marcus sighed. "In Kensington. But we're going to Carrington Manor today for a couple of weeks."

"Kensington?" Charlie's amazement was as great as if his cousin had said Judith was on the moon. "Whatever for?"

"Now that I'm afraid is a secret I'm not prepared to divulge," Marcus said firmly. "I appreciate your concern, Charlie, but I have to tell you that it's a matter that lies between Judith and myself. I don't mean to snub you, or to be in the least harsh, but I'm afraid it's none of your business."

Charlie stabbed a grilled mushroom from the serving platter. "But she's all right?"

"Yes, Charlie. She's perfectly all right." Marcus smiled, watching with great amusement his cousin's careless, unconscious consumption of a considerable breakfast.

"Oh, well, that's all right then." Charlie heaved a sigh of relief. "I didn't mean to pry, but, well, you know how it is with Judith… a fellow can't help worrying about her."

Marcus nodded. "Yes, Charlie, I know just how it is. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have things to do, so I'll leave you to your breakfast."

"Oh, I don't want breakfast," Charlie said. "I breakfasted in my lodgings before I came."

"Really? I wonder how I could have thought otherwise." Laughing, Marcus flung an affectionate arm around his cousin and squeezed his shoulders.

A short while later, he emerged from the house and climbed into the waiting chaise with the Carrington crest emblazoned on the panels.

Tom scrambled onto the box beside the coachman and proceeded to direct him through the streets to Cambridge Gardens.

Marcus stepped out and stood for a minute looking around the quiet crescent, then up at Judith's hideaway: a discreet, modest accommodation patronized by solid burghers and their ladies, he decided, stepping up to the door.

Mrs. Cunningham gazed from her front room window at the magnificent emblazoned equipage, with its two outriders, drawing up at her doorstep. Its tall, elegant occupant in buckskins and top boots, a cloak thrown carelessly around his shoulders, jumped down and stood looking at the house for a minute before approaching the front door.

"Dora… Dora… the door, immediately!" she called, smoothing down her skirt as she billowed into the hall to greet her visitor.

Dora flung open the door before Marcus could touch the door knocker. "Good morning, sir."

"Good morning," he said with a pleasant smile, seeing the ample figure of Mrs. Cunningham behind the maid. "I understand you have a lady residing-"

"Oh, yes, sir, Mrs. Devlin, sir," Mrs. Cunningham supplied helpfully. This gentleman could only be inquiring after one of her guests.

"Ah… Mrs. Devlin," Marcus murmured with another smile. He'd been fairly certain Judith wouldn't have registered under Lady Carrington and had been wondering if this would present him with any problem. But the eagerly helpful landlady had resolved his difficulty.

"And is she in?" he inquired, when the landlady seemed uncertain how to proceed.

"Oh, yes, sir. She has a lady with her, I believe."

Marcus frowned at this, wondering who could be visiting Judith here. "Perhaps you'll show me up."

"Yes… yes… of course, sir. Dora, escort the gentleman."

"Thank you." Marcus moved to the staircase, then paused, one hand on the newel post. "Lady Carrington will be leaving immediately. If you would have her account made up, I'll settle it directly."

Lady Carrington! Confusion and excitement played over Mrs. Cunningham's countenance. "But, sir, nothing was said by Mrs. Dev-I mean, Lady…"

Marcus held up a hand, halting the tangle of protestation. "Nevertheless, ma'am, Lady Carrington will be leaving directly. I am Lord Carrington, you should understand."

Mrs. Cunningham gulped, curtsied. "Yes, my lord… I didn't know…"

"How should you?" he said gently, turning to follow Dora's bouncing rear up the stairs. At Judith's door, she raised her hand to knock with a flourish.

"No, I'll announce myself," he said swiftly. He waited until the disappointed maid had retreated down the stairs, then he opened the double doors.

Judith and Sally were sitting head to head on the window seat, deep in intense conversation, and both looked up as the door opened.

Judith stared at her husband, her color fluctuating wildly. "Marcus?" she whispered, as if unsure whether he was real or a vision.

"Just so," he agreed. "It seems I must be the only person in London not invited to visit you in your self-imposed seclusion." He heard the caustic note in his voice as he frowned at his sister-in-law. He'd prepared for this moment with great care, but Sally's presence threw all plans into disarray.

Sally had jumped up and instinctively moved closer to Judith, who managed to ask in a cracked voice "What are you doing here, Marcus?"

"I've come to retrieve my wife," he replied, shrugging out of his cloak. "Sally, I must ask you to excuse us." He held the door in wordless command.

Sally hesitated, then stepped even closer to Judith. "I'm sorry, Marcus, but I'm here at Judith's invitation." She met his astounded stare without flinching, her shoulders stiffening as she prepared to defend her friend against all comers, including irate husbands.

First Charlie and now Sally, Marcus thought with resignation. What on earth had got into his usually docile family these days? Silly question… Judith's influence, of course. He repeated calmly, "Nevertheless, I must ask you to excuse us."

"No," Sally said, closing her lips firmly.

Marcus began to laugh. "My dear Sally, what do you think I'm going to do?"

"I don't know," Sally replied. "But I'm not going to stand aside while you bully Judith."

Marcus's jaw dropped at this, and Judith recovered the power of speech. "It's all right, Sally. Why don't you wait downstairs for a few minutes?"

Sally looked between them as if assessing the risks, then she said doubtfully, "If you're sure…"

"Sally, I don't want to have to put you out," Marcus exclaimed in exasperation.

"That's exactly what I mean," Sally fired back. "Judith, do you really want me to leave?"

Judith had sunk back onto the window seat, covering her eyes, aware that she was on the verge of hysterical laughter. "Yes, really," she said in a stifled voice. "Marcus won't hurt me. Anyway, I've got my pistol."

"Well, if you're sure. I'll be downstairs, so just call if you need me." Sally marched to the door, shooting Marcus a darkling look as she passed him.

"Good God!" he said, closing the door behind her. "I always thought she was such a mouse."

"That's because you intimidate her," Judith said. "She's not like that at all. She's bright and funny, and a lot cleverer than either you or Jack could ever guess."

"Well, if she was intimidated just then, you could have fooled me," Marcus observed with a rueful chuckle. "I wish I knew why people imagine I'm going to do you some mischief. They've clearly never looked down the muzzle of your pistol." He took off his gloves, tossing them with his cloak onto the sofa.

Judith watched him in silence. He seemed in great good humor but that was surely impossible. For herself, her emotions were in such turmoil she didn't know what she felt.

After regarding her for a minute, Marcus said, "You really are the most exasperating creature, lynx. What on earth do you mean by running off like that? How the hell was I supposed to explain it?"

"I'm not particularly interested in how you explain it," she declared. "I'm not coming back."

"Oh, but you are," he said.

"I am not coming back to live in that prison you would construct for me!" she said, her throat closing as the hurt resurfaced. "You care only for appearances. Well, I don't give a tinker's damn for appearances, Car-rington. You'll think of something to salvage your precious pride and keep up appearances, I'm certain of it." She swung away from him toward the window. "Just leave me out of it."

"Come here," he commanded.

Judith didn't move from the window, where she stood staring out at the scudding clouds, the stark lines of the bare elm trees, a black crow sitting on the wall at the bottom of the garden.

"Come here, Judith," he repeated in the same level voice.

She turned slowly. He was perched on the scrolled arm of the sofa and his eyes were quiet as they looked at her, his mouth soft. He beckoned, and she found herself moving across to him as if in response to gravity's pull.

He stood up as she reached him and reached out one hand, catching her chin. "Why didn't you tell me the truth?"

"What truth?" Her eyes seemed locked with his and the warm grasp of his hand on her chin seemed imprinted on her skin.

"That you didn't know who was in the taproom."

Shock flashed in her eyes. "How do you know?"

"Sebastian told me."

She jerked her chin out of his hand. "He had no right…"

"Nevertheless, he told me," Marcus said, reaching for her again. "Keep still and listen to me. It was unforgivable of me to assume the worst of you. I only wish you'd lost that formidable temper at the outset and put me in my place at once."

He smiled, but there was a hunger and a yearning in his gaze. "It was unforgivable, lynx, but can you forgive me?"

Sebastian had betrayed her. He knew the real reason why she hadn't been able to deny Marcus's accusations, and he'd chosen to ignore them in order to patch things up. Because of Gracemere? Because of Harriet?

"Say something," Marcus begged, running a finger over her mouth. "Please, Judith, say something. I can't let you leave me, my love, but I don't know how else to apologize. It was torment believing you had taken advantage of me, that you were only using our passion to your own advantage. It drove me insane to think I was no more to you than a means to an end. Can you understand that at all?"

"Oh, yes," she said softly. "Yes, I can understand it." And yet even now as his words filled her with sweet joy, she knew that she continued to deceive him. He was still a means to an end, and yet he'd become so much more than that.

"Judith?" Marcus said, softly insistent. "I need more than understanding."

She grasped his wrist tightly. "It's over. We'll put it behind us."

Marcus brought his mouth to hers in a hard affirming kiss. Judith clung to him, desperate to grasp whatever happiness they could have in their remaining time together. Desperate to believe that there was a chance he'd never find out about Gracemere.

"How did you find me?" she asked, when finally he raised his mouth from hers.

"Through Sebastian." He smiled down at her, touching the line of her jaw with a lingering finger.

"He didn't tell you!"

"Not in so many words. I had him followed."

"Good heavens," Judith said. "How very theatrical of you."

Marcus shook his head in disclaimer. "When it comes to theatricals, my love, you're unsurpassed. That dead-of-night flight through a window was an outrageous piece of melodrama." He bundled her into his arms, kissing her again.

"Just one more thing…" Judith murmured against his mouth. "All that other business…"

"Ah." He released her reluctantly. "I've instructed my bankers that you're free to draw on the account. We're joint partners in this marriage and therefore in the fortune that maintains us both. I'll not question your expenditure again, any more than you question mine."

Hiding her bittersweet emotions at his trust in her, she gave him a brilliant smile. "Now that, sir, is an inventive and generous solution to an apparently intractable problem."

"But no more high-stakes gaming." He pinched her nose. "And if I see you within a hundred yards of a gaming hell, my love, I can't answer for the consequences. Understood?"

"Understood. I'll confine myself to social play from now on."

"Good. And now we're going into Berkshire for a couple of weeks, so ring for the maidservant to pack your traps."

"Into Berkshire? Now?"

"This very minute."

"Why?"

"Because I say so," he declared cheerfully. "Now, I'd better go and reassure Sally that you're still in one piece." He shook his head in amazement. "I wonder if Jack knows what a spirited creature she is when roused."

"Probably not," Judith said, chuckling. "And it's clearly your fraternal duty to enlighten him."

In his sister's absence Sebastian devoted himself to courting Harriet. Lady Moreton watched with growing complacence, expecting each day to bring a formal offer for her daughter's hand. Sebastian fretted silently over his powerlessness to act, but until he was in possession of his birthright, he had nothing to offer a wife. Only Harriet was sunnily untroubled by the waiting, secure and trusting in the knowledge of Sebastian's love.

None of them was aware of the threat hanging over their happiness. The threat took concrete shape in a bedchamber in a tall house overlooking the River Thames. The mullioned casement rattled under the blustery winter wind from the river, and the fire in the grate spurted as needles of wind pierced tiny cracks between the panes.

Agnes drew a cashmere wrap tightly around her body as she slipped from the bed, her body languid with fulfillment despite the nip in the air. She went to the fire, bending to warm her hands.

"I swear the wretched chit sees and hears nothing that's not done or said by Sebastian," she said as if an interlude of passion hadn't broken their previous conversation. "How many times did you compliment her on her hat this afternoon before she seemed to hear you, let alone respond?"

"At least six," Gracemere responded, flipping open a delicate porcelain snuffbox. "Give me your wrist."

Smiling, Agnes straightened and held out her hand, wrist uppermost. The earl dropped a pinch of snuff exactly where her pulse throbbed and raised her wrist to his nose, breathing in the snuff. His lips lightly brushed her skin and then he dropped her hand and returned to the subject.

"Clearly Harriet's not to be wooed and won, therefore she must be taken."

"When?" Agnes moistened her lips. "You can't wait until Sebastian has declared himself." "True enough. I will wait until I've bled Sebastian as white as it's possible-which should ruin his chances with Moreton anyway. And then we shall act." His lips tightened so that his mouth was a fleshy gash in his thin face.

"I don't doubt you, Bernard." Agnes touched his mouth with a fingertip. "Not for one minute."

He grasped her wrist again, sucking the finger into his mouth. His teeth bit down and his eyes stared down into hers, watching the pain develop, the excitement flare under the defiant challenge to endure. Agnes laughed, making no attempt to free her finger. She laughed, her head falling back, exposing the white column of her throat.

Gracemere released her wrist and circled her throat with his hands. "We are worthy of each other, my dear Agnes."

"Oh, yes," she whispered.

It was a long time before she spoke again. "With Judith and Carrington out of town, you must be missing a degree of entertainment."

Gracemere chuckled. "I have my plans well laid for her return. I may need you as message bearer, my dear."

"Messenger to whom?"

"Why, to Carrington, of course." A meager smile snaked over his lips. "There'd be no point compromising his wife if he's not to be aware of it."

"Oh, no," Agnes agreed. "None whatsoever. I'll convey the message of tarnished virtue with the utmost subtlety and the greatest pleasure."

"I thought the role might appeal to you, my love."

Judith clung to a shadowy corner of the conservatory. Her heart was beating swiftly with excitement and anticipation, her palms damp, moisture beading her brow from the exertion of the chase and the lush, hothouse atmosphere. The air was rich with the mingled, exotic scents of orchids, roses, and jasmine. The domed glass roof above her revealed the night sky, black infinity pricked with stars and the crescent sliver of the new moon offering the only light.

She had closed the drawing-room door that led into the conservatory, and the heavy velvet curtains had swung back, preventing the penetration of light from the house. Her ears strained to hear the sound of the door opening, the tap of a footstep on the smooth paving stones between the rows of shrubs and flowers. Would he guess where she was hiding? It was a relatively classic place for hide-and-seek. But then, it wasn't as if she didn't want to be found.

She stifled her laughter. Marcus had proved remarkably receptive to her penchant for nursery games. When she wasn't teasing him with outrageously provocative comments, which always produced the desired results, she was challenging him to horseraces through the meadow, making wagers on which raindrop would reach the bottom of the window first, throwing sticks from the bridge into the river and rushing to the other side to see which one was the first to emerge. They did nothing without laying odds, and the stakes were never for money. Indeed, they tried to outdo each other with the most imaginative and enticing wagers.

They'd spent the afternoon skating on the frozen horse pond, competing over who could make the most elaborate figures on the ice. Since Judith was no match for Marcus, who'd been skating on the pond every winter since early childhood, she'd spent a fair part of the afternoon on her backside. Marcus had made the most of the resulting bruises.

Hiding in her corner of the conservatory, ears stretched into the gloom for the slightest sound, Judith re-created the feel of his hands on her body, smoothing oil into the bruises he insisted he was discovering…

The door creaked, and there was a crack of light. It was extinguished so quickly, she could almost have imagined it. But she heard the faintest click as the door was closed again. There was silence, but she knew Marcus was in the conservatory. She could sense his presence just as she knew he could sense hers. Stepping backward on tiptoe, barely daring to breathe, she moved behind a potted orange tree, shrinking down into the deeper shadow, hugging herself as if she could thus make herself smaller. Her heart thudded in her ears as she waited to be discovered, as apprehensive as if she were truly being stalked by a predator.

Marcus stood by a bay tree, accustoming his eyes to the dimness, trying to sense where she was hiding. The conservatory was a wide, square building attached to the house, and he knew his quarry could evade him if he took off in the wrong direction. She could creep behind him to the door and be free and clear, with the rest of the vast house to offer for a further hiding place. But he was growing impatient with the game; he had another scenario in mind and was anxious to begin. The enticing curve of Judith's backside seemed imprinted on his palms, and his loins grew heavy at the thought of another anointing session, a more prolonged one-one that could continue until dawn if he chose.

He picked up a small scratching sound, tiny enough to have been a mouse. He stayed still, listening. It had come from the far corner and he stared into the gloom, straining his eyes to catch some movement in the shadows that wouldn't be a trick of the moonlight. The silence stretched, then a shower of gravel rolled across the paving from the same direction as the scratching. Marcus chuckled softly. Obviously Judith was also anxious to bring the game to a close.

Silently he removed his shoes, then trod on tiptoe toward the corner, hugging the shadows, hoping to surprise her, despite her clues. He thought he could detect a darker mass in the shadow of an orange tree, and with mischievous intent moved sideways, so that he could approach the tree from behind.

Judith crouched in her hiding place, listening for the sound of footfalls. Surely he'd picked up on her pointers. But she could hear nothing.

"Found you!"

Judith shrieked in genuine shock at the exultant statement from behind her. Marcus laughed. Bending, he caught her under the arms and hauled her to her feet.

"You lose, I believe."

Judith sank against him; her knees were quivering absurdly. "You frightened me!"

"I thought that was the point of the game. Hunter and prey… quarry and predator." He stroked he hair where it rested against his chest.

"I know it is, but I didn't expect you to terrify me.' She straightened, pushing against his chest, her smile : pearly glimmer in the dimness. "Sebastian never terrifiec me when we used to play as children. I always heard him coming."

"Perhaps maturity brings greater subtlety," he murmured, glancing down at his stockinged feet.

Judith followed his gaze and burst into a peal ol laughter. "You took your shoes off!"

"Observant of you… but, since I found you, I believe you owe me a forfeit, ma'am."

Judith narrowed her eyes. "But would you have found me if I hadn't given you those clues?"

"That, I'm afraid, we'll never know."

She chewed her bottom lip in thought. "But I still wonder if the possibility doesn't alter the original terms of the agreement."

Marcus shook his head. "No, ma'am, it does not. I discovered you… most completely, I would have said."

"I suppose that's true."

"So, I claim my reward."

Judith smiled. "Very well, then. And you can pay your forfeit afterward."

"Since when have winners also paid a forfeit?" Marcus demanded.

"Since I decided to make the rules," she retorted. "This was not a winner-takes-all proposition."

A long time later, Judith lay sprawled in wanton abandonment under glowing candlelight, the thick pile of the library carpet against her back and shoulders. Marcus held her buttocks on the palms of his hands, lifting her for his own dewy caresses. One couldn't draw qualitative comparisons between the joys of the pleasure giver and the receiver, she decided, her hips arcing under the fierce and fiery strokes of his tongue, the delicate grazing of his mouth.

Around them, the house was silent, only the hiss and spurt of the fire disturbing the quiet. Its heat was on her bared thigh, matching the rising heat in her loins. The coil burst asunder, taking her by surprise, as sometimes it did. She laughed softly, feeling his breath warm on her heated core as he laughed with her, in his own pleasure at her surprised release.

When he rolled, bringing her with him, she lay along his length, feeling her own softnesses pressing into the muscled concavities of his body. He parted her thighs, slowly twisted his hips, and thrust upward within the still-pulsating entrance to her body. Judith tightened around him, pushing backward until she knelt astride him. She moved herself over and around him in languid circles, teasing them both. With the same languor, she turned her head toward the uncurtained French doors. The moonlit lawn stretched beyond the windows, the frosty grass sparkling. It occurred to her that she was truly, completely happy, for the first time in her life.

There had never been room for unalloyed happiness before. But at this moment, fused in passion, even revenge somehow had lost its spur… was somehow irrelevant. Soon enough, they'd return to London and she would have to go to work on Gracemere again, but she wasn't going to think of that now. She brought her mouth to his.