How to Deceive a Duke (16 page)

Chapter 33

T
he theater glittered with jewels and silks as Nicholas escorted her to the Temberlay box. Meg’s stomach knotted as a hundred pairs of opera glasses snapped open and turned upon them like birds of prey.

First, shocked silence descended at the incredible sight of the Devil Duke of Temberlay actually sitting with
his wife
.

Then a whisper began, rose, and made its way around the theater like fire. She opened the program, pretended to study it. Her heart melted.

Angelique Encore, Temberlay’s famous mistress, was playing the lead.

She slid her eyes to her husband, but he was studying the crowd and looking bored in the extreme. Did he know? Surely he must.

She gazed around the boxes, filled to capacity since it was the height of the Season, and searched for a friendly face. Delphine waved her fan and grinned. Flora fluttered her handkerchief.

There was nothing to do but smile as if the whole world wasn’t waiting for her reaction to being in the same room with her husband’s lover. She closed the program and folded her hands over it, resisting the urge to tear it into pieces.

N
icholas swore silently. If he’d known Angelique was performing tonight, he would have taken Meg to the opera, or stayed home. He hadn’t seen Angelique in weeks, not since the wedding. He hadn’t even thought of her. He supposed he should have ended it officially before it came to this. He wanted to lean over and tell Meg, but she was staring out into space, her expression placid under the scrutiny of the
ton
, but he was close enough to see the pulse point hammering in her throat, making the Temberlay sapphires glint. A slow blush rose from somewhere beneath the low bodice of her ice blue gown and crept upward over her breast and face to disappear under her hair.

He would explain later. He had a gift for her—a diamond bracelet set with rubies. He’d planned to give it to her this evening, in the coach on the way home, before he took her to bed. He’d discovered he liked his wife. He enjoyed talking with her almost as much as he liked talking to Stephen, and infinitely more than any kind of conversation with Sebastian.

Perhaps conversation with Meg would be even more enjoyable if he wasn’t constantly thinking how much he wanted to make love to her. He supposed they were facing a conversation of a different kind tonight, and his mistress was going to be the topic of discussion.

He reached for her hand, but her fist was clenched, her fingers icy. She refused to look at him.

The sapphires winked at him as she drew a shaky breath. When she appeared at the top of the stairs, the fabulous necklace was the last thing he noticed. He felt like the most fortunate man in the world as she floated down the steps to his side. If this is what it felt like to be a duke, he was content at last, as long as Meg was his duchess.

The theater darkened and the curtain rose, and Angelique took the stage. The play was a clever Italian comedy. No one paid attention to the story. Every eye in the house swiveled between the blond actress, her lover, and his wife. Nicholas did his best to look bored.

He usually enjoyed watching Angelique perform, since her talents on stage were as mesmerizing as her skills in bed. She caught his eye now, winked, and eyed Meg coolly as she performed a bawdy little song. She performed it for him. Every gesture, every roll of her hips emphasized the double meanings, was meant to entice him. A mistress could hardly demand her protector’s attention. She could not call on him, or demand his presence. She could only wait for him to come to her. He really should have ended it when he knew—knew what? That he preferred his wife to any other woman, actually liked her?

He glanced at Meg. She was smiling serenely, laughing in the right places, but the program was crumpled in her gloved hands.

He shifted again. Was the damned song not over yet? Angelique wouldn’t be lonely long. After this performance, there’d be a dozen men willing to take his place as her lover. The audience applauded wildly as the last suggestive trill died away, but she took her bow for him, giving him a long look down her bodice.

Meg made a small strangled sound.

At long last, the curtain came down for the interval.

“Meg—” he began, reaching into his coat for the bracelet, but Delphine rushed into the box.

“Wasn’t that positively decadent?” she asked, grinning. “Nicholas, how wicked she is!” She slid into the seat beside Meg, and looked at the crowd. “Everyone is here tonight—Augustus Howard even brought his wife. And look, she’s wearing the necklace.” She leaned closer. “They say that’s how he got her to marry him, by promising to wrap her in jewels!”

Nicholas stared across at the young girl by Howard’s side. She looked like she belonged in the schoolroom. The lavish jewels detracted from her beauty, rather than enhancing it. While Meg carried the magnificent sapphires, Claire Howard wore her jewels like a shackle.

A footman entered, bearing a tray of champagne. “Miss Encore’s compliments, Your Grace.”

Meg reddened, her eyes narrowing as she glared at the golden liquid.

Delphine tittered.

Nicholas rose. It was time to put a stop to Angelique’s hopes that he would return to her. He’d found someone else, someone whose charms would never pale in his eyes as Angelique’s had.

And all because of a deception, and the art of conversation.

He had to speak to his mistress now, stop her from making fools of both of them, or the second half would be more torment for Meg.

“Would you excuse me?” he said stiffly, and left the box.

Chapter 34

“O
h, the boldness of her!” Delphine said. “I daresay she means to fight you for him, Meg!”

It wouldn’t be much of a contest, Meg thought. She’d managed to keep her expression flat throughout the breathtaking blond actress’s performance. Angelique Encore’s bountiful curves put her own willowy body to shame. The actress had a seductive way of moving that ensured every eye was riveted to her lush hips. Her eyes were so brilliantly blue they put the Temberlay sapphires firmly in the shade. Meg wanted to tear them off her neck.

She smiled at Delphine as if it didn’t matter, but the pain in her chest was awful.

“Of course, she’s already lost him,” Delphine purred. “Nicholas wasn’t watching her. His eyes were on you.”

“He was probably wondering if I’d make a scene,” Meg said. She smiled brightly, forced a laugh, and looked around the room as if none of this mattered.

Delphine sobered. “There’s no doubt the
ton
is waiting to see if you’ll throw a tantrum in public. But you won’t, will you?”

Meg raised her chin. “Never.” She had her pride, though Angelique had infinitely more than pride to keep her warm. Did men love their mistresses? Perhaps they did, if they were more beautiful than their wives, more talented.

The lights dipped, and the curtain rose, Nicholas hadn’t returned yet. She studied her gloves, willing away tears. Was he with her?

A cry rose from the audience and she looked up at the stage.

Her heart dropped to her slippers.

Chapter 35

N
icholas made his way backstage. He nodded to the cast and crew, all of whom knew him well, from other nights, other visits to Angelique’s dressing room. They moved aside to let him pass. He knocked on the familiar blue door and entered.

Angelique was waiting for him, as he knew she would be.

“Devil!” She lit up with a seductive smile. She was changing her costume, and she let the half-buttoned garment fall open to reveal her breasts. “How naughty you are. I haven’t seen you for weeks. You’ll have to hurry. The curtain is going up in a few minutes.”

He stayed where he was, leaning on the door. After a moment she pulled her gown together and fastened it. “Has your wife got you on a short leash?” She turned to the mirror to fix her makeup. “She’s pretty.”

She looked at him in the glass, then rose to put her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his. “Break free and come play with me after the performance!”

He looked down at her. She wore brilliant rouge on her cheeks and lips, dark kohl around her eyes. He’d once found her fascinating. Now he felt nothing.

“No, Angel. I only came to tell you that I won’t be back.”

She gave him a teasing look of disbelief.

“Places!” the stage manager called, and Angelique, ever the professional, slipped her arm through his and moved toward the wings.

“You know you don’t mean that, Nick,” she said, her tone seductive, playful. “You’ll be back.”

She took a breath, making note of her mark, already distracted. He took her shoulders and turned her to face him.

“I do mean it. It’s time this rake reformed.”

The smug confidence in her eyes dropped away. A few tears, real ones, perhaps, sprang up, and he quickly reached for his handkerchief before her makeup ran. She took it and dabbed her eyes.

He reached into his pocket again. It was customary for a man to give his mistress a parting gift. He hadn’t considered that. He held up the bracelet. Her eyes lit up. Angelique loved the perks of sex.

“Oh, Nick, it’s beautiful!” He watched as she quickly estimated the bracelet’s value. “It
is
good-bye then.” She sighed.

She stood on her toes and kissed him. “I’ll miss you. There’s no one else like you.” She put her arms around his neck. “Change your mind, Devil. Stay with me.” His eyes flicked to her lush cleavage, now pressed to his shirtfront. She noticed the glance, of course. “Change your mind,” she murmured again, an octave lower.

“Curtain up!” the stage manager called.

“Good-bye, Angel,” he said, kissing her forehead as he reached up to untangle himself from her arms.

He saw the harsh gleam of the footlights as they caught her bright blond hair, watched the light race toward them. He heard the gasps, the titters, then the roar of the audience.

He looked up across the width of the stage, right into the Temberlay box, and straight into Meg’s eyes.

Angelique shoved him out of the way without missing a beat, and moved upstage to say her first line. Meg was retreating, scrambling backward into the shadows. The crowd was on its feet, hooting.

He had to get to her. To go around backstage would take too long. The shortest route would take him straight across the stage. Of course, that would cause even more scandal.

He didn’t care.

A
ngelique stepped aside as Temberlay raced across the stage, his eyes on the empty Temberlay box. The old Nicholas might have paused, taken a bow, stolen a kiss. Her heart sank at the loss of him. She had never had a better lover, or a more handsome one, but she reminded herself of who she was, and where she was—and the house was filled with potential protectors to take his place.

As Nicholas bolted offstage, she waved his own handkerchief after him, let the bracelet sparkle as she blew him a kiss, and gave her delighted audience a saucy wink.

Chapter 36

M
eg heard the laughter, saw Angelique in Nicholas’s arms in front of the whole theater.

She had to get away, find some air to breathe before she choked. She picked up her skirts and ran headlong down the marble steps, with no idea where she was going.

Hands caught her sleeve, gripped her shoulder, and she struggled, pulled away.

“Take your hands off me!” The words rang through the marble foyer.

“Meg, for heaven’s sake, it’s me, Hector!”

She scanned his face, read the angry concern. She collapsed into his embrace. “You saw?”

He nodded against her hair, and put his cloak around her. “Let me take you home. I sent your mother out to the coach already. She wanted to climb out of the box and challenge Miss Encore to a duel. Hat pins at dawn!” he tried to joke.

Meg felt her lips tremble, and tears stung the backs of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

In the coach, Flora alternated between sobs and fury. “A curse upon his adulterous, lecherous, misshapen head!”

“It’s not misshapen, Mama,” Meg murmured.

“It will be when I get through with him. You will come home to Bryant House tonight, Marguerite. Hector, you will arrange an annulment first thing in the morning. That may have been impossible before now, and would have caused our shame, but now the shame will be entirely on him. How dare that man do this to me—not to mention Marguerite—in public, with that strumpet of an actress! Marguerite, did we sell your father’s dueling pistols?” She dissolved into tears, and Hector pressed his handkerchief into her hand.

“What do you want to do, Meg? Shall we take you to Bryant House for tonight?”

Meg thought of what had happened the last time she’d gone home to Bryant House. This time, everyone would be watching to see what she would do.

She shut her eyes against the pain that went beyond scandal this time. He’d spent time with her, talked to her, smiled at her. She was beginning to think he was content to have her for a wife after all, that someone at last wanted plain Marguerite. How foolish she was. Men like Temberlay might
talk
to ugly women, but they made love to beauties. Her father’s philosophy had tried to make that clear, but she’d failed to listen. The lesson was clear enough now. Shame heated her cheeks in the darkness.

“There are rumors of other women as well as the actress,” Flora hissed. “They say he’s been visiting a young woman with a baby.”

Meg looked up.

“Flora!” Hector warned.

“Take me to Hartley Place,” she said. “I’m very tired. I need to think, need to sleep. He likely won’t be home tonight.” Or tomorrow night, or the night after that. She clenched her fists, hating Nicholas.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Hector asked.

She stared out the window into the darkness. “Everyone expects me to run away. Perhaps that’s what he expects. I will decide tomorrow what I will do, when I am calmer.”

“Calmer? You barely seem upset at all! Surely you don’t have
feelings
for him?” Flora asked.

“He’s my husband, Mother. I had—hopes.”

Flora sniffed. “Hopes. You’ve always had hopes. Your father never paid you any attention, and you tried to be smarter and better than your sisters so he’d notice you, didn’t you? I suppose you hoped Nicholas would notice you too, not give all his attention to actresses. It’s not that your father didn’t love you, Marguerite. He didn’t know how to deal with strong, clever women.”

“He’d be proud if he could see you now,” Hector said.

“Would he?” Meg asked softly. “Married to a man who doesn’t—couldn’t—love me?”

“It was your father’s shortcomings that brought us to this, not yours, in my opinion,” Flora said. “You are the best of us all, and you make a magnificent duchess. If Temberlay can’t see that . . .” She paused. “I suppose that doesn’t ease the shock and hurt you’re feeling now.”

She opened her reticule and pressed a small vial into Meg’s hand. “Take this. It’s laudanum. It will help you sleep without dreams, and without any pain at all.”

“Flora, I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Hector said.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Hector! There are times a mother knows what’s best.” She held up the glass bottle and stared at it. “I used it after your father died to help me sleep. His death was a terrible shock. He simply abandoned me to face what was quite unfaceable. Sleep made it bearable.”

“Meg made it bearable, Flora, not the drug. Meg, Laudanum is dangerous. Too much can make you completely unconscious, or worse,” Hector said.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake—” Flora interrupted.

“For how long?” Meg asked. She took the vial and looked at her mother.

But Hector put his hand over Meg’s. “You’d be out for hours, and you’d wake feeling awful, and want more.”

“I see.” Meg stared at the vial in her palm, and closed her fingers over it. “I’ll be careful,” she said.

“Just a drop in a glass of water,” Flora advised. “Or two, perhaps. Certainly no more than three or four. Five at the most.”

At Hartley Place, Hector escorted her up the steps and asked Gardiner to fetch some warmed wine.

When the butler looked past Meg’s shoulder for signs of Nicholas, Hector’s face hardened. “See to Her Grace! I doubt your master will be home tonight.”

Gardiner bowed.

“You can still come back to Bryant House for a few days until this blows over, Meg,” he said. “At least give me the laudanum.”

She kissed his cheek. “I’ll be fine. You’d better get Mama home before she faints.”

She went upstairs and sat down at her dressing table, too exhausted to do anything but stare into the mirror.

The dowager entered. “Gardiner told me you were unwell,” she said. “Good Lord, you’re as white as linen!”

“Why would Gardiner come for you?” Meg asked, unfastening the sapphires herself.

“I told him to alert me if you were unwell. Are you with child?” she asked bluntly.

Meg’s stomach coiled. “I am ill for quite another reason. I saw Angelique Encore in Nicholas’s arms. In fact, everyone in attendance at the theater tonight saw them. It was far more entertaining than the play.”

The dowager sat in the wing chair. “Damn him.”

Meg began to pull the pins out of her hair. “Have you seen her? She’s beautiful, everything a man could want.” She felt tears sting her eyes, and she blinked them away.

“You are not so innocent that you don’t know that men keep mistresses, Marguerite. But for him to be so indiscreet is unforgivable.”

“There is little I can do,” Meg said.

“On the contrary—you must do your duty, give him an heir,” the old lady said.

Meg felt her face heat. Other than on their wedding night, he had not done more than kiss her. She shut her eyes. She’d believed him when he said he wished to talk, to start over. Now the truth was plain. He didn’t want her. Shame burned as she looked at the dowager.

“You yourself said these things take time,” she hedged.

“You’re not trying hard enough.” The old lady’s voice dripped with ice.

Meg met her hard, cold eyes. “I am not Angelique Encore. I am not sweet and pretty like Rose. I am the one woman in the world it appears that he does not want. Perhaps if he’s very drunk and the room is very dark, and every other female in London is otherwise occupied, he might be willing to bed me.”

The dowager rose and walked toward Meg. “This is not the time to feel sorry for yourself. If you wish to be complimented, petted, then I’ll tell you plainly that you’re more beautiful than either your sister or that strumpet. Miss Encore’s talent is all between her thighs. He’ll tire of that soon enough. You have wit and brains. Surely you can think of a way to seduce him. You may be innocent, Marguerite, but you are not a fool.”

Laughter bubbled up and spilled out of Meg. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, but Nicholas has his clubs, his mistresses, and his own life. He has no time left for me.”

The dowager gripped Meg’s chin. “The whole purpose of this marriage is to get an heir of Temberlay blood. Nicholas is the only Hartley left. If you cannot do that, then you are of no use to me, and neither is he.”

Meg stared at the hatred glittering in the old lady’s eyes. No wonder she didn’t care which sister her grandson married. Better the plain sister after all, to make Temberlay’s punishment worse.

“You think I’m cruel, no doubt,” the dowager said. “I’m merely practical, no different than you. You married Temberlay to save your family. I arranged it to save mine. I want an heir. Perhaps your sister would have been a better choice after all, but it’s too late now. You have chosen this course, Marguerite, and you will do as I say. I want an heir. Even if your family is safe now, that could easily change.”

Meg’s throat closed. “What do you mean?”

The old lady smirked. “I could destroy the prospects of your sisters forever. If the details of your father’s death were made known, for instance—”

She knew? Not even Mama or Hector knew the truth. Meg had made sure . . .

“You wouldn’t,” Meg croaked around the lump of dread that filled her throat, threatened to choke her.

The dowager smiled unpleasantly. “Wouldn’t I? I made Nicholas marry against his will. I control him because I control the purse strings. His blood, his seed is all I have. I want a child to raise to be duke in his place—a decent, honorable man who deserves the title. Once I have an heir, Nicholas can swive himself to death with a whole chorus of actresses for all I care.”

Meg paled. And she would no longer be necessary to anyone. The dowager reached out and grasped Meg’s chin again, and her fingers dug into her flesh like claws. Meg held her eyes, refused to flinch.

“Seduce him, Marguerite. Find a way. If you are not with child within three months, I will reveal what I know about your father’s death, and expose your mother as his brother’s whore. Is that clear? You would all end up in the gutter.”

Meg looked away first.

The dowager released her, then picked up a long lock of her hair and stroked it through her bony fingers. “Good girl.” She left the room.

Meg went to the basin and scrubbed the old witch’s touch from her skin, and stared at her blotched face in the mirror.

Seduce him? With a lover like Angelique a short carriage ride away? She turned away from the glass.
Impossible.

But the safety of everyone she held dear depended on it.