Perhaps David had a point and it was time for him to move out . . . He started to walk toward the main thoroughfare, checking for potential hazards in the shadows as he progressed. He wasn’t sure if he had the guts to live alone. At least at his parents’ house he had to maintain some standards. If he were alone, there would be no one to stop him but himself. He stopped walking, allowed the biting wind to swirl around him and breathed in the bitter cold air.
David had been kind to him, far kinder than any of his other lovers. His life would be much easier if he could be with a man like David. But David hadn’t asked for that kind of relationship, had he? Anthony winced. Did he realize that Anthony was too damaged to reciprocate properly? Or did he understand Anthony’s need to reach out to Marguerite? Hell, he didn’t know anymore.
He glimpsed an approaching hackney cab and increased his pace. Telling Marguerite the truth about his sexual cravings was the honest thing to do, but dammit, she liked him. She wanted to be with him. Could he keep up the facade that everything was perfect in his life for much longer? Marguerite was no fool, and part of him longed to confide in her, to see if she would still want him despite his failings.
“Damnation,” Anthony cursed under his breath.
He was far too tired to contemplate his future tonight. He sighed. David had certainly worn him out. Tomorrow was quite soon enough to reflect on what he’d learned and to try to make some sense of how he should go on.
9
Marguerite hurried out of the anonymous back entrance of the pleasure house on Barrington Square and headed for the park. Tucked discreetly in her bag were a selection of small sponges and some tansy oil, courtesy of her mother. Her cheeks still felt hot after Helene’s frank explanations, but Marguerite was grateful nonetheless.
To her continued surprise, her mother hadn’t asked for any details as to why Marguerite was suddenly willing to listen to a lecture about how to avoid pregnancy. Marguerite suspected Helene was just glad her daughter was contemplating making love to anyone and had held back from questioning her for fear of alienating Marguerite completely. It was not like Helene at all, but Marguerite was grateful for the reprieve.
The clock on the church tower at the corner of the busy square struck eleven, and Marguerite increased her pace. She was due at the Lockwoods’ to celebrate Charles Lockwood’s birthday. In truth, she had no inclination to attend, but her mama-in-law had insisted, and she had reluctantly promised to make an appearance. The Lockwoods en masse were never very pleased to see her, but she’d always liked Justin’s younger brother Charles, and she was willing to brave the others for his sake.
Spots of rain darkened the flagstones ahead of her, and clouds covered the brightness of the sun. It was usually far quicker to cross through the gardens of the adjoining squares than to go around the busy streets in her carriage. She hadn’t reckoned on the rain. Marguerite picked up her pale green muslin skirts and ran toward the imposing white steps of Lockwood House. With her head lowered, she wasn’t completely surprised when she ran into another person also ascending the steps.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” she gasped as he steadied her elbow and prevented her falling. “I couldn’t see where I was going.”
“I noticed that.”
The man’s smile was pained as if she had somehow injured him in her precipitous flight. Marguerite pulled out of his grasp, straightened her bonnet and bobbed him a small curtsey.
“As I said, I apologize. Did I hurt you?”
He kept staring, his pale face inscrutable, and his light blue eyes fixed on hers. What she could see of his hair was crow black, making her guess he was in his early thirties. He wore a simply cut dark blue coat, black breeches and well-polished boots, which gleamed despite the gloom.
“Not at all, ma’am.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we go in?”
Marguerite hesitated, but he didn’t move on. He wasn’t a member of the Lockwood family she’d met before, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a perfect right to be at the party. She reluctantly placed her fingers on his pristine sleeve and headed inside. He took off his hat, waited as she gave her pelisse to the footman and ascended the stairs to the drawing room at her side. She couldn’t fault his manners, but there was something in his thorough appraisal that made her uneasy.
“Marguerite?”
She looked up as Lady Lockwood came toward her. “Good morning, ma’am.”
Lady Lockwood brushed her lips against Marguerite’s cheek and then turned to her companion. “I didn’t know you were acquainted with my daughter-in-law, Lord Minshom. Did Justin introduce you?”
Marguerite stepped slightly away from her silent companion. “We haven’t been formally introduced. We simply arrived on the steps together, and Lord Minshom was kind enough to escort me in.”
“It was a pleasure, my lady.”
“Minshom is a distant connection on my father’s side. His mother and I met as debutantes and were married in the same year.” Lady Lockwood’s smile was fond and far warmer than the one she’d offered Marguerite. “I believe I am one of your godparents.”
Lord Minshom bowed to them both, his smile dazzling, his pale eyes cold. “I believe you are, although you scarcely look old enough.”
Lady Lockwood laughed and tapped his sleeve with her fan. “You are an incorrigible flirt. Now pray don’t forget to give your good wishes to Charles in person. He is over by the window with dear sweet Amelia.” She nodded and walked back into the chattering throng, leaving Marguerite stranded with her silent companion.
He bowed slightly. “My condolences on your husband’s death. Despite the disparity in our ages, I considered Justin a friend.”
Marguerite inclined her head. “Thank you, my lord. It was a terrible tragedy.”
“Indeed. Did the authorities ever prosecute anyone over the duel?”
“I don’t believe so, sir,” Marguerite said carefully. “As far as I understand it, the man fled the country.”
Lord Minshom smiled and showed perfect white teeth. “You sound almost disappointed. Did you want to dispense justice on him yourself?”
Marguerite met his amused gaze. “I would’ve liked to hear his side of the story. The reports I received about the cause of the duel were very garbled.”
He shrugged. “I believe that is often the case when men are in their cups. They say and do things that are contrary to their true natures.”
“Having known both men, I still find it difficult to understand exactly why they decided to fight to the death.”
“You met Sir Harry?”
“Indeed I did; in fact, he accompanied us on our honeymoon in Europe.”
“Did he really? How amusing.”
Marguerite raised her chin. “I would hardly consider it amusing, sir, seeing as my husband died at his hand.”
“Touché, my lady.” He met her gaze, his eyes as hard as her own. “Men are animals at heart, Lady Justin, don’t forget that.” He gestured at the window where Charles stood surrounded by friends. “Shall we go and pay our respects?”
He took her hand again and led her forward before she had a chance to escape him. And why would she wish to do so? His frank discourse had not only alarmed her but surprised her. At least he was honest. He was probably the only person present who would bother to speak to her about Justin. Everyone else avoided the subject at all costs.
Marguerite hesitated and patted her reticule.
“Please go ahead. I have a present for Charles. I need to find it before I meet with him.”
She turned toward a small table close to the wall and dumped her reticule on the surface. After untying the knots, she opened the bag wide and rummaged inside for the small package.