Page 73 of Only Pleasure Will Do

They rushed through the glass-paned doors into the soft May night, still much cooler than the heated ballroom. Once outside and in the relative seclusion of darkness, Maddy dropped Verwood’s arm and stalked toward the far end of the portico until she stopped beneath the light of a flickering sconce. She could not let this man expose her, and in turn bring shame onto her father’s good name. It had been no fault of his that she had come to this pass, save his poor judgment in friends. Neither she nor Papa would be made to pay for that single folly.

“Thank you for bringing me here, my lord. It is terribly warm inside. And rather crowded. I believe it best that we talk more privately before you make a false claim in public that could have…unfortunate results.”

“Oh, I am perfectly willing to discuss what you will, my dear, in private or public. As long as you agree to be my wife, I care not a jot who knows about your double life. I find my purse too thin for comfort these days. Your inheritance will do nicely to fill my coffers again.” Perhaps to emphasize his nonchalance, Verwood produced a snuff box—from where, considering the tightness of his clothing, she had no idea—took a huge pinch of the pungent substance, and sniffed it up his nose. It must not have sat well with him, for he commenced coughing until he was almost out of breath.

“Shall I fetch someone, my lord?”

“No.” The coughing subsided, although not before Verwood’s nose began to run. He pulled a lace-trimmed handkerchief from his jacket and dabbed at it. “I don’t intend to let you out of my sight until you have agreed to my proposal.”

“I have told you already, Lord Verwood, that I will not marry you.” The man was beginning to annoy her now. She’d recovered from the first shock of his accusation enough to think clearly again. “The Hardwicke Act stipulates that the parties to be married must be willing, so unless you have discovered a way to compel me to marry you, such a marriage will never take place.”

The viscount adjusted his stance and raised his chin, haughtiness in every line of him. “I would think the threat of my announcing to the world that you are not the innocent you claim to be but the madam of a brothel might be inducement enough to make you consent.”

“Then you would be mistaken, my lord.” The cold conviction of her words seemed to give him pause. “As mistaken as you are about my identity, for I will swear to anyone who will listen that I have never met you before this evening.” She looked him up and down. “I think I would have remembered you if I had.”

“But alas, my dear, I did not look thusly when we met.” He grinned, revealing rather crooked teeth. In the dim light, they seemed more than a little predatory. “The encounter was several years ago, before I began to dress in a more fashionable manner.”

Maddy’s stomach flopped as though she’d been turned upside down.

“Neither had I inherited my title. I was plain Mr. William Potter then, in London for the first time when my cousin took me to the House of Pleasure for an evening’s tumble with a doxie. Best night of my life. Up to that point, at least.”

Years of schooling her emotions worked to Maddy’s advantage. She neither quickened her breathing, nor flinched, nor gave any indication that Lord Verwood’s words were true. But they were. She remembered Mr. Potter, although he’d only been to the House that one time. He’d been memorable because after he’d been serviced—by Racine, who always preferred the youngest men—he’d come racing down the stairs, demanding to go again. So enthusiastic he’d been that he’d knocked into Lord Pervis, sending that gentleman crashing into her good Chinese vase painted around the bottom with seven virgins dancing naked. She’d been very put out by the incident.

Still, she’d taken Mr. Potter’s money, soothed Lord Pervis by offering him an additional evening’s entertainment, and laughed about it as she tallied the receipts. That might have been the laugh Lord Verwood remembered.

“Whether your tale is true or not, my lord, I cannot attest to it, for I most assuredly was not there. You have obviously mistaken me for a woman who bears a passing resemblance to me. And while I forgive you for making such a mistake, I declare to you no such accusation will induce me to marry you.”

“And well it should not, Miss Forrester.” A tall, shadowy figure loomed over Verwood’s shoulder and Maddy’s heart leaped with joy at the sound of Reginald’s voice. He stalked past the viscount to stand by her side, the most welcome sight she’d beheld all evening. “Especially as the lady is already promised to me.”