Rules of Passion (Greentree Sisters 2)

Marietta sighed. “He persuaded Francesca to carry a note to me. She has never forgiven him for it. In the note he asked me to elope with him, but in the most romantic terms.”

“Ah, romance.” Amy smiled. “There is nothing wrong with romance, dear child. Indeed it is something we should all aspire to. But romance sometimes needs to be mixed with a good dash of common sense.”

“Anyway I have grown out of that nonsense now,” Marietta retorted.

Amy laughed. “Then you are the poorer for it,” she teased. “Every man, woman, and child dreams about being loved, Marietta. There is nothing wrong in it.”

“He knew just what to say to capture my silly heart,” she answered without inflection, “but it was all a game to him, and once he had taken the prize…”

“Yes,” Amy was sober again. “When I found you gone I was so angry. I sent Mr. Jardine to find him with a horsewhip—”

“A horsewhip!”

Amy smiled. “I have never told you this, Marietta. Mr. Jardine caught up with him a few miles south. The creature had stopped to enjoy a nap under a tree along the road. I don’t think he can ever have closed his eyes again without remembering the awakening he had that day!”

Marietta gasped. “Do you mean Mr. Jardine—”

“Yes, dearest, he did.” Amy sighed. “But unfortunately that dreadful Rawlings had already spread his poisonous gossip. Impossible to hush it up,” she smoothed her daughter’s ringlets from her cheek. “Well it is over and done, now.”

Marietta giggled at the image of Mr. Jardine with a horsewhip. Her own actions seemed ridiculous to her now, so naïve. Max Valland was more of a man than Gerard Jones would ever be. She wished she had known Max then. If Gerard had never existed, then perhaps she might have considered Max’s offer, for if Gerard had never existed then she would never have had her heart broken and her reputation ruined.

It was all very unfair.

“You know that whatever you wish to do, I will support you.” Amy was looking down into Marietta’s eyes with her own calm gray ones.

Marietta knew then that Amy probably understood her hopes and dreams—understood her—better than anyone. Tears welled in her eyes and blurred that beloved face. “I don’t seem to know what I want,” she said tremulously. “That is the trouble, Mama.”

Amy dabbed away her daughter’s tears with her lacey handkerchief. “Hush. You are not a child now, Marietta, you are a woman grown. You are intelligent and sensible and there is no need to rush into anything. Take your time, Marietta, and think deeply. You will know what you want when you find it.”

Marietta thought she was probably right. The only problem was that she had already seen what she wanted. It was just a pity that she couldn’t have him.

Chapter 16

Francesca had insisted that since she was in London she wanted to visit the Tower of London. Marietta, dragging a reluctant Lil after her, plodded behind her sister as best she could, but she had difficulty keeping up with Francesca’s longer legs. Francesca was inspired by the grim place, with its cawing ravens and blood-soaked history. Marietta suspected that her sister was already planning to create a bleak little watercolor to commemorate her visit.

Afterwards they did some shopping and set off for home. Marietta found herself yawning, and knew it was Max’s fault. She was worn out, she couldn’t sleep for tossing and turning and thinking of him, while her body tingled infuriatingly. It would not do, it really wouldn’t. Somehow she would have to put a stop to it. But not yet, no, not yet.

Aphrodite had sent a note to tell her that her next task was to attend the masque ball at Vauxhall Gardens, incognito, and meet Max there. It was an event she had always dreamed of attending, and to go with Max seemed like a dream come true. Marietta knew that until the ball was over she would not make any decisions concerning Max.

Back at the townhouse in Berkley Square, she received a shock. Hodge the butler, after directing a servant to take her parcels, informed her in the hushed tones he only used for the most important of visitors, that there was “a distinguished pers

on” asking to speak to her privately.

“A distinguished person? Who is this person, Hodge?” She knew her eyes were big and that Hodge was enjoying being mysterious.

“The Duke of Barwon,” he replied quietly. “He’s in the best sitting room, with Lord Montegomery.”

Marietta stared, wondering if she had heard him correctly, but Hodge wasn’t likely to be playing some elaborate joke on her. The Duke of Barwon? Why on earth, she thought, her heart skipping a beat, did Max’s father want to see her “privately”? And then the second part of Hodge’s answer penetrated her muddled brain. “Is Oliver home?” she asked in a hopeful voice.

“Yes, miss, he arrived an hour ago.”

Marietta was very relieved that Oliver was there. She had no desire whatsoever to meet with Max’s father—if he was anything like Harold then she could only expect hostility from him, especially if Harold had spoken to him about her. In fact that was what it must be about. Harold had discovered she was still seeing Max and he had gone to a higher authority.

Because Max wouldn’t have told his father that he had asked her to marry him, would he? A disgraced nobody from Yorkshire? Surely he would not do anything so impetuous or so silly. Would he? And yet he had seemed very determined and Max was the sort of man who was used to having his way…

Whatever the head of the Valland family wanted from her, Marietta suspected it was nothing good.

“Marietta?” Francesca had been observing her, curiosity making her dark eyes even more catlike than usual. “Who is the Duke of Barwon, and what can he want with you?”