The Cursed Countess (The Daring Drake Sisters 1)

He couldn’t slow his heartbeat down. Just that brief interaction did wild things to his lust. Somehow, he would find a way to get her into his bed and show her passion with a man nearer her own age. He needed to slow the pace. Give her friendship. Something he doubted her late husbands had done.

Once they arrived at his godfather’s residence, they were ushered up the stairs to the music room. The crowd mingled about with glasses of lemonade or wine in their hands. The gathering was smaller than usual with only about twenty people in attendance. Spying Mr. and Mrs. Marshall, he led Tessa toward them. As they approached, Mrs. Marshall left her husband’s side without even a glance at them. This was not about to go well.

“Good evening, Raynerson,” Mr. Marshall said, staring at Lady Stanhope. “Lady Stanhope,” he added with a nod.

“Mr. Marshall,” Lady Stanhope said with an abrupt curtsy.

“Good evening, Marshall. How is your wife? She departed so quickly I had no time to introduce her to Lady Stanhope.” Jack’s temper rose with every word.

“John, I do need a word in private. If you don’t mind, Lady Stanhope?”

She smiled tightly at him. “Of course not, sir. I shall partake in a glass of wine and wait for his return.”

Before either man could say another word, she turned and left them.

“That was terribly unkind, Marshall,” Jack complained. “She has done nothing wrong.”

“Come with me, boy.”

Jack followed his godfather as they walked toward his study. He hated having this conversation with the one man who actually attempted to give him guidance in his life. A duty his own father had failed miserably to perform.

“Close the door behind you,” Marshall said as he poured two glasses of brandy. “John, I have known you since you were an infant, and in all that time, I have never seen you make as big an error as bringing that woman into my house.”

Jack took the brandy from Marshall’s outstretched hand and sipped it slowly before responding. “Exactly what has you so irate, Marshall?”

“She’s a bloody murderess, John!”

“Dear God, call me Jack,” he replied. “And if she did commit murder, why hasn’t she been hanged at Tyburn?”

“Because she’s a witch who can kill a man without anyone discovering it.” Marshall took a sip of brandy before finally sinking into a chair by the fireplace.

Jack tilted his head back and sighed. “That is the best you can do? A witch?”

“John...Jack, please listen to me. You are a good man and with a little more push can be a great man. Neville’s wife is not doing well with this babe and this could be her last child. If she doesn’t give him a boy, you and your progeny will inherit the title. You need to find a proper wife who will marry you and do her duty.”

Do her duty. The last thing he wanted in a wife was a woman who only wanted to increase her position in Society and give him two sons. “Marshall, I am not looking to marry Lady Stanhope.”

“Good. Then...” He waved his hand at Jack. “Never mind, I now realize exactly what you are doing with that woman. Just have a care with her, Jack. I don’t trust her.”

Neither did he, but he wasn’t about to tell his godfather that. “I will.” He placed his half-empty glass on the table. “I should return before she runs off.”

“Would she do that?”

“Based on her warm welcome here, I would not be surprised.”

Marshall cleared his throat as Jack reached for the handle of the door. “Jack, I do hope you don’t think I overstepped my authority here. But with your father gone and Neville in Devon, I felt someone should speak with you.”

“I understand,” Jack replied, as his hand tightened against the door handle. He was only doing his job, nothing more. But he couldn’t tell his godfather that. “Thank you.”

He left the r

oom feeling slightly reprimanded and yet not angry with Marshall. The sooner he completed this case the better. Scanning the room, he found Lady Stanhope sipping a glass of wine in the back corner of the music room. The tension he’d been holding inside released in a long breath. As beautiful as she was, he had to remember that she was more than likely a murderess and if he wasn’t careful, he might become her next victim.

“Perhaps we should leave,” she said as he walked up to her.

“Everything is fine. Just a little business to clear up with Marshall.” He took the wineglass from her hands and brought it to his lips. While the wine was quite good, her expression was priceless. Her mouth gaped and her eyes widened in shock. “Have you never shared a glass of wine, love?”

“No,” she whispered.