Page 71 of Unmasking a Wicked Marquess
Inside, a roaring fire was lit, along with so many candles that it was a glaring yellow light. In that harshness, Edward raised his hand, shielding his eyes from the brightness for a moment, before he reached for his sodden boots and pulled them off, dropping them by the fireplace to dry. “Read them.”
“What?” Edward said, turning around to see his father pointing at a line of yellow papers across the desk.
“Read them,” Philip said again, much more harshly than before.
Edward picked up the first paper, trying not to get it too wet. It was a scandal sheet, and there, gleaming in black ink on the front page, was his own name.
‘The rake, the Marquess of Ashton, son to the Duke of Lantham. It has been known for some time, of course, that the marquess has spent much time on the continent. Perhaps on his return, he intends to bring the loose morals he has encountered in other countries back with him.
There are whispers abound that Lord Ashton has taken no less than three ladies to his bed upon his return. His poor family. With the marriage of his sister shortly around the corner, who would now deign to come to such a wedding and associate themselves with the family?’
“What is this?” Edward asked snidely, dropping the scandal sheet back down to the desk. “It’s rumour only. Father, I have not done anything like this. I am no rake!” He was hardly going to defend all he had ever done in his life to his father now. He may have been loose at times with the rules, but there was a great difference between that and taking three ladies to his bed in such a short space of time.
I could never do that. I would never!
An image of Juliet appeared on his mind, prostrate across that blanket, crying out in pleasure as he entered her.
There is only one woman I wish to take to my bed now …
“I did not do this!” Edward cried again.
“I know.” Philip raised his hand. “They whisper about anything, and gossip spreads like fire, but I have spent the last few weeks with you. Quite frankly, I do not know where you would have found the time to seduce three different women.”
“Father! Is that the only defence you could give me? Not that I am better than that?”
“It’s in all the scandal sheets.” Philip gestured to the other papers.
Edward longed to continue the argument but now stepped forward and looked at the other papers, too. There, printed in ink, with various words but all meaning the same thing, he was being painted as a rakish cur, more animal than human at all, with a title that he did not deserve.
“This is madness,” Edward muttered, turning on the spot and pulling at his sodden clothes. “Madness!”
“That it is. Your sister fears no one will come to the wedding now these papers are full of such lies. It’s imperative we put these lies to bed at once, Edward. You must marry Lady Clarissa, and the gossip will end.”
“What?” Edward spun around, nearly tripping on the corner of his rug in surprise.
“You took your grandfather’s ring, yes?” Philip said simply. “We all know you’re planning on proposing. Just hurry up and do it. Good God, I do not know why you have been dallying at all, but now is certainly not the time to dally when your reputation has become so … so … sordid.” He looked down with disdain at the papers.
“This man is not me.” Edward thrust a finger at the scandal sheets again. “You have to believe me.”
“I told you, I do.” Philip nodded firmly. “Yet what I believe and what the ton is ready to believe are two entirely different things. You know that as well as I. You must marry her. Hurry up and be quick about it, for all our sakes.”
Edward said nothing for a minute. He snatched up one of the scandal sheets and read the article about him again, wondering who could have made up such lies and then spread them so viciously. It was plain as day that someone had endeavoured to destroy his reputation completely, but why? What did they stand to gain out of this than pure pleasure at people casting scorn on his name?
“You will marry, yes?” Philip said impatiently.
“Yes.” Edward still had the ring box in the pocket of his trousers. He moved a hand towards it, tapping it without thought.
For the last few days, he had been intending to propose. He was lost, confused, baffled by Juliet’s sudden retreat, but he wasn’t willing to let this be the end of them. He knew now he loved her too much for that. It had all come into focus when he had seen her riding away in that carriage, leaving him behind.
I love her. I wish to marry her.
He needed to speak to her, to find out why she had retreated from him after they made love. If she decided she no longer cared for him, then he would understand, but if this was all for another reason – if she feared their fathers’ disapproval, then he was going to show her he wanted to be just like Mr Darcy with Clarissa. He wanted them to carve their own lives away from their fathers and dare their disapproval.
“Then you will see Clarissa, yes?” Philip said again with that tone still implacable in its resoluteness.
Edward was tempted to ask why his father thought he intended to propose to Clarissa, but he knew he couldn’t put Philip right. The day hadn’t yet come for Clarissa to elope with Mr Darcy. If she stood a chance of eloping before her father discovered the truth, then Edward was content for his own presence to be a distraction for her father. Perhaps he wouldn’t even suspect her intentions of running away at all.
“I will propose, Father.” Edward raised his head from the scandal sheet. “You can be certain of that.” He was just careful not to say Clarissa’s name. “All these lies will soon come to an end when they see I intend to wed.”
