Rules of Passion (Greentree Sisters 2)

“It will be your last assignation, mon petit puce. I have decided that you will be wearing a golden mask and a red cloak with fur at the hem, and Max will be wearing a black cloak and a silver mask. You will meet him at the rotunda and he will take you with him through the Dark Walk. Very romantic. There, that should please you! My engagement gift to you.”

It did please her. “And what are the rules this time?” she asked curiously.

Aphrodite laughed. “Why have rules? You could not obey them last time, so I will not bother with them this time. You can set your own rules, Marietta. Be happy; there, that is my rule for you this time—you must simply be happy.”

I will be happy, Marietta told herself. And yet…Now there was a new doubt to ruffle her calm seas. What would Max think of her one day owning Aphrodite’s Club? He might say he cared nothing for her reputation and her scandalous parentage, but could he also turn a blind eye to her being the proprietor of a bordello?

I won’t tell him. After all, it won’t be for years and years and years.

And yet in not telling him Marietta felt as if she was already betraying him.

Max smiled when he received the note from Aphrodite, congratulating him on his coming nuptials and informing him of his rendezvous with Marietta at Vauxhall Gardens.

He would miss the intrigue and excitement of such meetings, but the thought of being married to her brought a warmth to his heart that he had never felt before. There would still be passion and desire, but there would also be trust and love, and the joy of spending his life with the woman he wanted above all others.

“Max?”

Startled he turned, the note fluttering from his fingers. Harold stood inside the room, watching him, his mouth pinched and unhappy.

“I have heard that you are to be adopted by the duke.”

“I have declined, cousin,” Max said cautiously.

Harold shrugged, as if he didn’t believe it. “I am glad for you, of course I am, but I cannot help but wonder whether he means to restore you to your previous position. Susannah thinks he will. Where does that leave us, Max? I feel as if I am in limbo.”

“I have no intention of acce

pting—”

But Harold waved his hand impatiently. “You say that now, but in time you will weaken. He will work on you and you will agree. Marietta Greentree will work on you, too. What woman in her position would not want to be a duchess!”

Max felt anger tighten his muscles and sinews, but he held it in check, reminding himself that his cousin was upset. This was his father’s fault, once again he had ploughed ahead through other people’s emotions, his eyes fixed only on his desired goal. He moved to the drinks tray, to pour some brandy for them both. “Sit down, Harold, and we can talk.”

“It isn’t for me, you understand,” Harold didn’t seem to hear him. “I am thinking of Susannah.”

He turned and found that Harold had retrieved the note and was reading it. Max felt his cheeks color at the intrusion into his private life, but Harold didn’t even seem to notice what he was reading. He set the note down and took the drink Max held out to him.

“Marietta and I are getting married, and we will live at Blackwood. I have decided to reopen the old mine. It will give employment to the villagers and perhaps put some cash in my pockets. You probably think it very strange, Harold, but I don’t need Valland House or anything else that I used to think of as mine. There is freedom in being without, and besides, I will soon have the brightest jewel of all.”

“I wish,” Harold began, but whatever it was he wished for he changed his mind about sharing it. Instead he swallowed his brandy and said, “Am I invited to the wedding, Max? I promise to be on my best behavior.”

Max fixed him with a stern look. “I’ll think about it.”

Harold smiled, and shook his hand. “Good luck, cousin,” he said, “and I do mean that.”

Max stared thoughtfully after him. Harold was not himself, but then who could blame him after what the duke had done to them both? He wondered if his cousin was right, would he weaken and allow his father to reinstate him as the heir? And if he did, would that mean losing Marietta? She had made her feelings plain on becoming a duchess—she thought her reputation cancelled out such a future. If it came to a choice between being heir to a dukedom and Marietta’s husband, Max knew which of the two he preferred. He was in no doubt at all.

In the library at Berkley Square, William Tremaine was giving Mr. Jardine one of his infamous glares.

“I’ve seen the way you ogle my sister, Jardine. Don’t think I’m blind or a fool, for I am neither.”

Mr. Jardine felt his face burning. “You are wrong, Mr. Tremaine. I have no intention—”

“Yes, well, save your explanations. I don’t want to hear them. In fact I think it would be best if you offered your resignation forthwith.”

“Certainly not!”

William’s blue eyes narrowed dangerously. “You’re disobeying me?”