Never Deny Your Heart (Kellington Book Five) Page 3

  He was about to pound on the door yet again, when he heard it being unlatched. A moment later, he was pushing past the sleepy butler.

  “Your grace,” said the startled servant. “How may I be of service?”

  “I am here to see Miss Carson,” said Liam.

  The butler now looked completely befuddled, no doubt the result of being awakened in the middle of the night. “Your grace, I cannot…the hour is so late.”

  “I shall make my apologies to Miss Carson for disturbing her, but I need to see her straight away.”

  The butler stood there, growing more nervous by the moment. “This is most irregular…”

  Liam raised a brow. He was not used to being put off by anyone, particularly by someone else’s servant – his own servants did tend to rebuff him on a regular basis. “Bring her down here or I shall go find her myself.”

  The butler’s own brows rose and he looked increasingly panicked. “Your grace, that is….”

  “Maybury, what is it?”

  Liam looked up at the head of the stairs to see the dowager viscountess. For the first time in memory – and perhaps ever – he was glad to see her. “My lady,” he bowed to her. “Pray forgive my disturbance, but I must see your daughter.”

  Lady Worthington said nothing, but looked from side to side. “Lord Worthington?” she asked the butler.

  “He has not yet returned, my lady.”

  “I know this is most irregular, Lady Worthington, and I promise to meet with the viscount and do everything up properly on the morrow, but I simply must see Miss Carson immediately.”

  “You want to see Rosalind?” Her mother was astounded by the very notion.

  Liam had everything to do to keep from yelling at the woman. “Yes. Your daughter is betrothed to a scoundrel.”

  Lady Worthington stood straighter and regained the hauteur she was known for. “My daughter is betrothed to the Duke of Fallmoor. His family goes back to the Conqueror and his holdings are some of the richest in England.”

  “He is a whoremonger and has no plans to cease being so, even after they are wed.” Normally, Liam would never speak of such matters to a lady, but these were not normal times. Nor did he particularly care for the lady.

  “I cannot see how it is any concern of yours, Lynwood. And as for accusations of whoremongering, I suggest you look no further than your youngest brother who might as well live at that Thurmond creature’s brothel. And God knows your brothers Edward and Arthur married beneath them. It is even rumored that Arthur’s wife is a bastard. The House of Lynwood cannot compare to the House of Fallmoor.”

  Liam prayed that Rosalind would not wish to maintain close contact with her dreadful relations. “Lady Worthington, I am proud of my brothers and their wives, as well, of course, of my sister and her husband. And I do not care to hear them disparaged. I will allow that the lateness of the hour has perhaps made you less mindful of your tongue than you would otherwise be. But I am here to propose to your daughter and if you will not summon her, I shall have no choice but to go in search of her myself. Be assured, my lady, that I have no intention of leaving this house until my mission is complete.”

  For a moment, it appeared the dowager would have apoplexy. She stared at Liam, with her mouth agape at a most inelegant angle. Finally, she shut it, but could summon not a single coherent sentence, though it looked like her mind was scheming feverishly. “You cannot be in earnest.”

  “I assure you I have never been more serious. Now, are you going to her bedchamber or am I?

  Her eyes narrowed. “What will you offer for her?”

  Liam had spent almost a decade and a half as a duke and had been the heir since birth. He summoned every bit of aristocratic hauteur for this miserable excuse of a mother. “Perhaps you have not kept abreast of politics, but people in the civilized world no longer buy and sell others. She is your daughter. Do you not have a care for her welfare?”

  “Of course, I do. Which is why I would like to know your prospects.”

  “My prospects, as you put it, are to serve as the Duke of Lynwood. I presume you know my family’s holdings are some of the wealthiest in the kingdom. Your daughter will never want for anything. Indeed, I believe I can give her the love and affection she has never known.”

  The dowager was completely unmoved by his remarks about love. She simply looked at him appraisingly. “Your holdings aren’t quite as good as Fallmoor’s, but they are adequate, I suppose.”

  “I am so glad my purse was found to be a satisfactory husband for your only daughter.” He climbed the stairs.

  This time, the dowager’s look of panic wasn’t so fleeting. She ran to keep up with him. Something was amiss.

  She steeled herself again. “The Duke of Fallmoor has been most generous to my son and me. I cannot in good conscience break our agreement. Think of the scandal.”

  “I imagine you are thinking more of the loss of his blunt. Very well. How much has he paid you?”

  “You are insulting.”

  “And impatient. You have ten seconds to name your price.”

  “Fifty thousand pounds.” She threw out the sum as if wishing him to refuse, and a slight smile curved over her teeth.

  “Done. Now be gone.” Liam, out of patience at last, pushed past her, then began striding up and down the hall, calling Rosalind’s name and opening doors. All the while, Lady Worthington was running after him telling him to cease his actions. Finally, he stopped one of the many servants who’d come out to watch the show and asked where Rosalind’s room was. The tired maid pointed it out.

  Liam grabbed a candle from a table, then walked into Rosalind’s room.

  Only to find it empty.

  “Rosalind?” He looked around the bedchamber, then her dressing room and even the adjoining sitting room. “Rosalind!” He turned to her mother, who was in the doorway looking, if he didn’t know better, scared. “Where is she?”

  “With a friend.”

  But there was something suspicious in the way she’d said that. She’d answered too quickly. And not looked him in the eye.

  “Where is she?”

  “She is visiting a friend in the country for a few…” She let the rest of the sentence trail off.

  “A few days?”

  The dowager looked like she wanted to answer in the affirmative, but instead she said “Or a few weeks.”

  “Where the devil is she!”

  “Where the devil is who?” Viscount Worthington, looking the worse for drink, entered the room. “And what in blazes are you doing here, Lynwood?”

  “The duke has made an offer of marriage for our dear Rosalind,” said the dowager, worriedly.

  “How much is he offering?” asked Viscount Worthington, getting to the point most efficiently.

  Liam had never wanted to pummel anyone as much as he did at that moment. But instead, he said in the quiet, calm voice his family dreaded the most. “Where is she?”

  “Your guess is as good as ours,” said Worthington casually. “The chit took off and left us high and dry, didn’t she? Fallmoor only paid us half the twenty-five thousand pounds he’d promised. We weren’t to get the rest until he got an heir off her. Of course, knowing Rosalind she would’ve been stupid enough to give him a daughter.”

  Liam hit Worthington so hard the viscount knocked over a chair as he fell.

  “You bloody bastard, I think you broke my nose!” Worthington wiped the blood which was flowing freely from his nose. He did not, however, get up for more.

  “How long has she been gone?”

  “Little more than a week, maybe ten days.”

  Liam took a menacing step forward. “Are you telling me your sister ran away ten days ago and you’re doing nothing to recover her? You’re lucky I don’t break your neck.”

  “We sent a Bow Street Runner after her. Didn’t want to spend the blunt, but didn’t have a choice, did we? We’ll never get the rest of Fallmoor’s money without her. But you can bet I’ll get her t
o pay me back once we do catch up to her.”

  “You’d just better pray no harm comes to her. Or you’ll be meeting me at dawn.”

  “It’s not my fault the bitch left.”

  Worthington was rewarded for that comment by a fist to the jaw. “You sold her into a marriage she did not want.”

  “Well, she was doing us no good being a spinster at home,” said her mother. “Had we known you were interested, of course, everything would have been different. How soon do you think you can give us that seventy-five thousand?”

  Liam had never been tempted to hit a woman before, but she was trying even his reserve. He would have liked to have kicked Calvin in his mother’s place. But instead he drew a deep breath. “I thought it was fifty thousand.”

  “But there will be the expense involved in finding her, of course.”

  “Of course,” said Liam. “Do not worry. You’ll get your fifty thousand, but I shall find Rosalind. And if any harm has come to her, you’d better leave England for good, Worthington. Your life won’t be worth living if you remain.”

  With that he departed, terrified he’d never see Rosalind again.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Marcus Redmond, the Marquess of Riverton, had a reputation for being a dispassionate man. Quiet, introspective and possessed of an unfashionably deep intellect, he’d been written off as a dry stick by most ladies of the ton, even as they’d vied to become his marchioness. For no matter how boring a man might be, a title such as that – with large estates and loads of blunt to go with it – could overcome all obstacles. That he was also fair-haired and handsome were additional points in his favor, since one could always put up with intelligence if allowed to gaze upon a pleasant face.

  So it was with great disappointment that the ladies and their matchmaking mamas had learned of the betrothal between Riverton and Elizabeth Kellington, followed by their scandalously quick marriage ceremony in the chapel at Lynwood Manor in Hertfordshire. That there was a scandal attached hadn’t been all that surprising, given the bride in question. And really, had Elizabeth Kellington not been a member of one of England’s most powerful families, surely she would have been cut from society quite some time ago, given her views on the status of women. Yet now she was protected by both the Duke of Kellington and the Marquess of Riverton.

  And it was quite agreed that every lady should be so fortunate.

  Those who thought they knew Riverton would be shocked to learn the great depth of passion he possessed. Even he had not known the extent to which he could feel such love.

  Not until Lizzie had come into his life.

  Marcus and Lizzie lay in his bed, spooned together. They often slept like that, their bodies pressed together with no space between them. His arm was wrapped securely around her, his hand resting on her stomach, atop the place where their babe lay nestled inside.

  He knew his reputation for being quiet and cold. Methodical, without the passion of the lords who flaunted their affairs and boasted of their conquests. But Marcus had been deeply in love with his best friend’s sister ever since she’d progressed from the precocious girl who’d bedeviled him on trips back to Lynwood Manor during school holidays to the beautiful woman who’d made her come-out three years earlier.

  He’d never dreamt she would ever see him as anything other than her brother’s friend. She was so full of life. Fearless, brave and a fighter for the less fortunate. He admired her mind and spirit every bit as much as he yearned for her body.

  And he definitely yearned for her body. Despite having spent a few hours making love earlier that night, his cock, nestled against her arse, had become hard once again. But he couldn’t impose upon her. He had to let her sleep. She was, after all, carrying his babe.

  Lizzie had been with child for a few months, and he’d experienced the full range of emotions, from pure joy to incredible fear for the delivery to the agony of watching her be sick morning, noon and night and not being able to do a damned thing about it. It was only in the past week that the sickness had abated. And Lizzie had become as amorous as ever.

  He more than welcomed her advances. Their lovemaking was incredible. He’d never been so sated in his life since he and she had first made love. But he didn’t want to hurt her or the babe, even though both she and Jane had assured him that lovemaking would not harm either mother or child. He didn’t quite trust Lizzie where that topic was concerned, knowing she had a vested interest in getting him to resume their activities. But Jane spoke with the authority of being both a surgeon and Ned’s pregnant and quite satisfied wife. She’d blushingly admitted that marital relations could continue until almost the final stages of pregnancy.

  Marcus was now achingly hard, pressed up against the woman he loved. But she’d been so sick for so long, and incredibly tired. If he were a decent husband, he would keep his needs to himself and allow her to sleep. It was the gentlemanly thing to do.

  The lady, however, had other plans.

  Lizzie’s arse pressed back into him. Marcus sucked in a breath, unsure whether she was simply moving in her sleep or doing it purposefully.

  She did it again and this time she pressed harder. It was agony.

  “Marcus?” asked his sleepy wife, still nestled against him. “Don’t you think you should do something about that arousal of yours?”

  Of course he did. But she was tired. “My love, you need your rest.” He moved his hand back and forth on her stomach because it was the only safe way to touch her.

  “We have already been over this. Jane said it was perfectly natural to make love during my pregnancy and I missed you so when I was ill. Please?” She punctuated that request by grinding herself against him.

  He moaned aloud. “You should sleep.” But he also moved his hand up her body, carefully nestling it between her breasts that were sensitive and deliciously fuller.

  “We can sleep later,” she said, lifting her top leg and putting it back over his, thereby opening herself up to him.

  “Oh, my heart,” he said as he pressed a breast into one hand, while checking to see if she was wet with the other. Just as he suspected, she was.

  He slid into her from behind, inch by inch. Getting that much closer to heaven until he was seated in her fully.

  “Oh, Marcus,” she groaned, as they slowly moved together. “I love you so.”

  “And I love…”

  There were interrupted by a knock at their bedchamber door.

  “Did you hear something?” asked Lizzie breathlessly.

  “No,” lied Riverton.

  They continued on as before, until interrupted by another knock, this time a bit louder. “My lord?” asked their new butler Drasin from the other side of the door. Upon marrying Lizzie, Riverton had sent his mother and unwed sister to the house he’d lived in as a bachelor, along with the coterie of servants who were loyal to them. Drasin was the new butler, a former soldier who’d served with Ned in the war. He was proving to be most efficient at his job, which was especially impressive considering he’d lost an arm in the war. But at the moment, Riverton wished the man to perdition.

  “What is it, Drasin?” Riverton called out, none too pleased.

  “His grace, the Duke of Lynwood, is asking for Lady Riverton.”

  “Tell him to bugger off!” yelled Riverton.

  “What is Liam doing here at this hour?” Lizzie asked her husband.

  “I promise to call on him first thing the morning to find out,” promised her husband, as he distracted her by thrusting into her once again.

  It worked. She pressed back, her brother completely forgotten.

  Until the blasted knock repeated itself. “My lord,” said poor Drasin. “With all due respect, I cannot tell his grace to bugger off. He’s a duke.”

  “He’s a pain in the arse!” yelled Riverton.

  “My lord, please forgive me, but he’s very upset. And I also believe that if Lady Riverton doesn’t join him downstairs, he might come up here to see her.”

&nbs
p; At the threat of Lynwood entering their bedchamber, Riverton ceased his thrusting and lay his head against his wife’s. “Why do you have so many cursed brothers?” he asked.

  “I currently wish that one to the devil, but since there is no avoiding him, I believe we should get dressed and meet him downstairs.” She turned as much as she was able. “But I look forward to continuing later.” Then she kissed him.

  It was everything Riverton could do to pull out of her.

  * * *

  Moments later, they found Liam in the sitting room, pacing.

  “Liam, what’s wrong?” asked Lizzie as soon as she saw him. He looked up at her words and Lizzie felt a jolt of fear. She’d never seen her brother so undone.

  “Where’s Rosalind?” he asked.

  “Rosalind? I do not understand.”

  “She’s gone, Lizzie. I was just at her house and that bastard Worthington said she left home ten days ago. What do you know of it?”

  Lizzie looked just as shaken as her brother. “I know nothing of it, though that would explain why I have been rebuffed in each of my attempts to see her. I just thought they were keeping her away from me, afraid I’d steal her away so she wouldn’t have to marry that dreadful Fallmoor.”

  “I wish you had stolen her away,” said Liam. “I wish to God I’d gotten there sooner.”

  Riverton took things in hand. “Why don’t you both be seated? Drasin, do be so good as to bring the decanter of whiskey for his grace and a pot of tea for the marchioness.”

  Before the butler could do as instructed, the knocker sounded.

  “That will be Stapleton or Arthur and Vanessa,” said Liam. At Riverton’s questioning look, he explained. “We must find Rosalind as soon as possible. I thought to enlist them in the search.”

  It turned out to be Arthur and Vanessa, along with Ned and Jane, who’d heard the servants summon the others. Ned, of course, hadn’t wanted the very pregnant Jane to leave their bed, but she’d insisted. If Hal and Mel hadn’t been on their wedding trip, no doubt they, too, would be there. A moment later, Stapleton arrived.

  Liam told everyone what had transpired that evening, first at Madame Thurmond’s, then at Rosalind’s house.