affections do not enter into this.’ The Marquess’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Lucian deliberately poured oil on the flames. Get it over with. ‘Nor does marriage.’
The big hands that had lain relaxed on the desk curled into fists. ‘In my house—’
‘In your house I imagine that Lady Sarisa would conduct herself with the greatest respect to your wishes. As would I, were I a guest here.’
‘He is playing with words.’ The door in the far corner was flung open to reveal Viscount Clere. ‘Playing with us. Will you or will you not marry my sister?’
Lucian curled a lip at him for the drama and received a glare in return. A bout in the stable yard would be so very satisfying. ‘No,’ Lucian said baldly, staying where he was and crossing his legs. Marriage was not what their relationship was about. They were lovers. Sara was not ready for marriage to anyone, he could tell that, and as for himself, he had other plans. Long-standing plans that involved the careful and considered choice of the next Marchioness of Cannock.
‘No, he will not,’ said Sara, emerging from behind the screen in the opposite corner. ‘Why should he? Why should I, come to that?’
‘Give me strength!’ The Marquess slammed one fist down on the desk. ‘What is this? A French farce? This confounded room has too many doors—and I have two disrespectful offspring. Ashe, sit down. Sara, if this man has seduced you, he must marry you.’
Her colour was up and so was her chin. Under any other circumstances Lucian would have sat back and admired the show, but this was his lover under fire and, magnificent as she was, it was his battle to fight, not hers. He stood up and went to stand at her side, not touching. ‘Lady Sarisa makes her own decisions, her own choices. She is an independent woman with enough force of character to withstand seduction. I believe she has made it clear that she does not wish to discuss her personal life. As for my own, I would simply point out that I would not dream of abusing my hostess’s hospitality by any behaviour that might cause her distress or embarrassment.’ And if they could not interpret that to mean that he and Sara would behave with perfect propriety when under her parents’ roof, then he would have to draw them a diagram.
Sara gave him a fleeting smile. ‘Lord Cannock is my lover, although he is too discreet to say so in as many words. It was a mutual decision, naturally, as he is a gentleman of honour,’ she said, before he could add anything. ‘And no seduction was necessary on either side.’ She turned to look at her brother. ‘And don’t grind your teeth, Ashe. You know perfectly well that if one of your friends was having an affaire with a widow of his own class you would not turn a hair. In fact, if you hadn’t met Phyllida when you did, I expect you would have been dallying with widows yourself.’
‘That is irrelevant.’
‘Then you are a hypocrite,’ she flung back.
‘Damn it, you are only twenty-four, Sara. What some older woman about town does is completely irrelevant. You have no experience of rakes and you know it.’
‘Lucian is not a rake.’
‘How do you know?’ That silenced her. As she sought for an answer Ashe spun round to face Lucian. ‘You marry my sister or you will meet me.’
This was getting out of hand. Sara had gone white and he suddenly realised why. It was not simply the hostility and her distress at arguing with her father and brother, although that must be affecting her. But she had already lost her husband to a duel and now her brother was not only raking that memory up but making her fear that she could lose her lover, or, far worse, her brother, the same way.
‘Actually, I have the priority for a challenge,’ he drawled. ‘You struck me.’
‘Damn it, then challenge me!’
‘Lucian.’ Sara’s voice shook and he felt as though he had hit her.
He glanced down and shook his head in reassurance before meeting her brother’s furious gaze. ‘Whether I call you out, Clere, or you call me out, I will delope. I will not risk killing Sara’s brother. If you do not delope, then you will be meeting me with the intent to kill me. Is that clear enough? And what your sister does when she is not under her parents’ roof is her affair, not yours.’
‘Exactly.’ Sara had the tremor almost under control now. ‘Now, are we welcome, all of us, or do we leave? Because if Lucian goes, I go.’
‘You are always welcome, Sara,’ her father said. ‘And Lady Marguerite needs our help, from what your mother hinted. So, no, my darling, you do not leave.’ He rose and held out his hand to Lucian. ‘I am sorry for your reception, but when you have a daughter of your own you will understand. I happen to trust mine and to trust her judgement. You are welcome here for as long as Sara is happy.’ For the first time he smiled and Lucian felt he knew what meeting a tiger face to face would be like. ‘On the other hand, if you make my daughter unhappy I will not trouble myself with the formality of a challenge.’
‘Understood.’ Lucian returned the firm pressure of the big hand with its calluses from years of handling reins and weapons. He did not make the mistake of offering his own to Clere, nor would he forget that blow outside just now. There would be a reckoning for that.
The room the footman showed him to was large, luxurious and decorated in an eclectic mix of fine furniture of the previous century and rich, dark, Indian fabrics and embroideries. It felt a little like being inside an exceedingly masculine jewel casket.
‘Lady Marguerite’s chamber is opposite, my lord,’ the footman volunteered when he had checked that hot water had been delivered to the dressing room. ‘Lady Eldonstone thought you would prefer her ladyship to be nearby. Mr Farnsworth is just around the corner to the left. An informal luncheon will be served in the Green Dining Room in half an hour.’
Lucian tidied himself up, grimaced in the mirror at the bruise on his chin and went in search of his sister. A maid opened the door to his knock and he found Marguerite happily exploring a room that was swagged in pale silk embroidered with flowers and animals.
‘This is lovely, Lucian! It is like being in a garden. Lady Eldonstone is so kind and understanding—Lucian, your chin?’
‘I walked into something.’ No more than the truth. ‘Ready for luncheon?’
‘Of course. I am starving.’ She dimpled at his grin. ‘I know, how unladylike of me. But I am. We must collect Gregory.’
‘Mr Farnsworth will make his own way down.’ He trusted them—up to a point. Showing the little minx the location of her lover’s bedchamber was positively begging for trouble. ‘Concentrate, Marguerite. This is the first act of a play, remember. Your reputation hangs on its success.’
She nodded with all the confidence of youth and Lucian gave mental thanks once again for Sara’s help. ‘It will be all right, do not fuss, Lucian.’
‘We haven’t met the other guests yet,’ Lucian said grimly. All they needed were a couple of those eagle-eyed dowagers, able to spot a scandal at twenty paces, and the acting would have to be of a very high order indeed.
When they located the Green Dining Room the first sight of the assembled company was promising, he thought. Everyone there was known to him, at least by sight, although for Marguerite, not yet out, they were all strangers. Lady Eldonstone had organised a casual buffet with several tables scattered through the room
