Page 4 of The Marquess' Wicked Wager
Jonathan blushed. “It is not so ridiculous as that.”
“Yes, it is.” Albert quieted his laughter with a heavy sigh and turned back to the party. He tried to not let his eye wander but quickly found it drawn back toward his father as the old man twirled effortlessly across the dance floor. Always the smooth libertine.
The couple turned, and Albert caught a glimpse of the poor woman who had fallen into the Duke’s web. He knew she would be young—they all were—but he was struck by just how beautiful she was. The flush of her milky skin reminded him of rose petals on a summer’s day, her body was curvaceous and lean and tight, all in perfect order. But the most distracting thing about her was her lips. Thick and full, stained like cherry juice. They were lips that begged to be kissed.
To see such a delicate creature in his father’s clutches was enough to make Albert lightheaded with rage and disgust. Hundreds of memories that he’d spent a majority of his adulthood trying to ignore flooded back to him all at once. Images of his mother crying as she crouched in a corner, screaming at him to go back to bed as his father fumed and laughed all at once. And after she was gone, his father started taking to other young women, the daughters of men who owed him money more often than not.
He watched his father dance; he recognized the familiar, if muted, sneer of disgust on the young woman’s face. And he couldn’t help thinking how much she resembled Eugenie, the daughter of the Baron of Elmsborough. The sweet sixteen-year-old had slowly become his father’s obsession after his wife had left. After Albert’s mother abandoned him to run off into a lake and end her life, leaving him alone with his father’s caprice.
Albert shivered and turned away, trying to keep himself from thinking it all. Eugenie had looked like his mother. That was why the Duke had fallen in love with her as he always phrased it. Images of Eugenie, who was his own age, wandering the back gardens of Craster Manor, her gown torn and her eyes red with tears. Lost and alone and confused, her mind was broken by what the licentious Duke had done to her. No less than what he’d done to his wife. And just like his mother, Eugenie had taken her own life. Or so the story went. He was not so convinced about his mother’s passing as he was by the Baron’s daughter’s, for his mother had left them a gown and letter by a lake, and it simply didn’t sit right with him.
That was the first time Albert had publicly challenged his father. It was the reason he was thrown out of Craster Castle by the border. The only reason his father hadn't entirely disowned Albert was that he was his only heir.
Albert wiped a hand over his lips. His skin was tingling, a headache brewing at the back of his skull. He looked back at the dancing couple. The girl was stumbling over her words, biting those pretty, swollen lips, her bright eyes searching for a way out.
“Nephew?” Jonathan touched his shoulder, and Albert looked up, startled. He’d forgotten where he was and everything else. He glanced back up in time to see the young woman being pulled from his father, ushered quickly away amidst the swish of a bright-cream, ruby-studded fan.
He wanted to sigh with relief, but the look on his father’s face soured his stomach. He’d seen that look before. The Duke of Craster had chosen his next obsession.
ChapterTwo
Violet dragged her godchild down the hallway at a faster clip than was entirely proper. Edna was certain her godmother would have yanked her straight out the front door and into the carriage if Edna hadn’t pulled her hand back.
“You must slow down,” she said, chest heaving. “And you must explain whatever is the matter.”
“The Duke is the matter, my dear,” Violet said, flipping around, her cheeks nearly as rosy as the red of her dress. “There’s a reason why the women in my circle call himDuke of Crass,” she sneered as she said the name.
Edna pressed a finger to her bottom lip, remembering the way the Duke had stared at her with lingering, cold eyes. The only thing that had been worse than those frozen sapphires had been the way he asked if she did what she was told. The words had felt as smooth as silk but went down her throat like briars.
“I suppose I could see how that name came to be,” she said, “but I do not think he was after me for himself. He said he had a son. Perhaps the Marquess would be better suited to me.”
Violet groaned. “The Marquess? Of Remington? Child, no. He is as wicked as his father and still has so much life to live. You must avoid them at all cost if you are to keep your shining reputation.”
“Surely, you exaggerate,” Edna said, pressing a hand to her chest.
“He is a rake.” Edna frowned, and Violet tutted, giving her a gentle pat. “You’d do much better with the sad Viscount and his kitten eyes. Anyone belonging to that family will mean your sudden and swift downfall.”
Edna nodded, the chilliness of the Duke’s advances solidifying everything her godmother said. “Thank you for your wise guidance. I shall do my best to avoid those particular gentlemen.”
“You’ll have to do better than that, my dear,” Violet said with a flap of her shimmering fan. The light caught on each ruby so that red light danced upon the scenic wallpaper like little glowing apples on each of the trees.
Edna pulled her eyes from the sparkling scene. “Whatever do you mean?” Then her breath caught, and she clutched at the sapphire-studded flowers on her necklace. “You don’t think they’d catch me unawares? They cannot bethatrakish!”
Violet smirked. “I would believe them to be entirely that rakish. But it is your father you should worry more about. He and the Duke have become quite close friends as of late.”
Edna’s stomach sank, the buttered bread she ate on the ride over not sitting well at all. “The Duke is friends with Papa? That means he gambles.”
“He does far,farworse than that, dear one. Gambling is simply the sin they bonded over. But I would not put it past either of them to gamble away things that do not belong to them just for the thrill of it.”
“And what of things that do?” She tried to swallow, but the thought stuck in her throat. “Not people? Not family? Surely.”
Violet pursed her lips, sealing the truth in Edna’s words and the horror growing in her heart. “It is why it is all the more important for you to find a husband.”
Edna pressed a hand to her stomach and nodded. She could not marry a wicked man. Nor would she allow herself to be gambled off to one. The thought was preposterous. She had always wanted love. It could not be that her only choices were a rake she didn’t love or another gentleman she didn’t care for either. However, she did not know how long it took to fall in love while her father burned through money faster than a barn on fire.
“Edna! There you are. Lord’s mercy, I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Edna turned to see Janine, the belle of the ball, hustling toward her with her emerald skirts tucked up in her hands, so her pointed shoes showed out the bottom. Improper. But Janine had always had a flair for looking pretty enough to get away with it.
“Janine, my dearest friend,” Edna said, smiling through the lingering sickness Violet’s words had brought upon her. “Congratulations on a spectacular evening. You are simply glowing.”
