Taste of Desire

chapter Three



Marguerite wanted to hide beneath the tea table as the formidable lady stalked towards them, her full skirts swirling above her narrowly fitted waist. Lady Smythe-Burke was one of the true doyennes of society, the aunt of the powerful Duke of Westlake and the widow of an earl. One whispered word from her and worlds rose and fell. Fortune and power were embodied in this woman whom a good puff of wind might blow away. Marguerite had spent time at her sister’s house party with Lady Smythe-Burke and ever since the lady had taken a great interest in her life, too great an interest. Marguerite shrank into her chair.

“I’ll ask again, Wimberley, you do know what this means, what you must do?” Lady Smythe-Burke caught Tristan with an iron glare.

“Why yes, my lady, I do know. I believe I’ve hopelessly compromised Miss Wilkes and will have no recourse but to marry her. What do you think, my dear?” Tristan turned to Marguerite and she slumped further.

How had she placed herself in this position? Now if she didn’t marry him, both of them would be disgraced. What had she done? Acid bit at the back of her throat.

“That’s settled then.” Lady Smyth-Burke picked up her pacing. “Will it be banns or special license? I suppose under the circumstances it will be the license. Too many of these hurried affairs these days. In my day everything was done properly at St. George’s. Don’t understand the young. Maybe we should just let you walk up to the magistrate, sign yourselves away, and be done with it. Why ask God’s blessing when it’s clear you’re already making a hash of everything? Splendid idea, that. Just sign and be done with it. No need to make a spectacle of the whole debacle. You’re not with child are you, my dear? No, of course not, I’ve heard your mother is not the most sensible of women, but I am sure she’s trained you better than that. Besides I myself know that Wimberley would never be so careless.”

Lady Smythe-Burke turned away from Marguerite, who prayed silently that her lack of color would not betray her. She lifted the teacup and swallowed mouthful after mouthful of the hot liquid, hoping the steam would bring a flush to her cheeks. She didn’t even dare glance at Tristan, who had moved across the room.

“You’ll have to come home with me, of course.” Lady Smythe-Burke was still talking. “Yes, that is the only answer. I take it your mother is not in town. I will not even begin to inquire as to how this circumstance came about. I would have credited you both with more sense than this. If it ever comes out that you have been here this evening, we will simply say that I was here with you from the first. Yes, that’s what we will do. Violet Carrington will provide an alibi. Who else saw Miss Wilkes’ arrival? In a normal household I’d worry about servants’ gossip, but somehow I imagine that is not of major concern here.”

Tristan nodded curtly as he turned and faced them. Marguerite still refused to look in his direction, but she could feel the air stir at his movement.

“Sir Thomas Langdon and Lord Darcy,” he said. “Neither would have recognized her and, once this affair is completed, neither will risk my ire. They both believe they have much to gain from my friendship.”

“And that of Lady Carrington, I imagine,” Lady Smythe-Burke snorted.

“As usual, you see too much.”

“I played this game long, long before you’d put on your first pair of breeches.”

Marguerite remained silent. She stared at the now empty cup in her hands. She longed for Tristan to catch her tight to him and tell her again that all could be made well. But, that was a child’s dream. If nothing else, the past year, the past months, had taught her that dreams did not come true. Besides, at the heart of all this, Tristan himself held much of the blame for what had come to pass. If she had never met him, the world would have been a very different place. He was the one who had taught her to dream, had made her seek a different world. She could still close her eyes and be back in the magic of that summer garden, remember how her life had changed at his touch, how she’d seen how wonderful the world could be.

“When should I plan the wedding breakfast?” Lady Smythe-Burke’s words called her back to the present. “Next Tuesday would be most convenient. Let me know if you have any trouble with the license. My nephew, Westlake, arrives in town shortly, as undoubtedly you are already aware, and I will prevail upon him to take care of the matter if there are difficulties. Not that I expect there to be. I’ve yet to hear you’ve failed at a task, Wimberley.”

Lady Smythe-Burke finally stopped her dissertation and turned to face Tristan, hands placed on her narrow hips. Marguerite didn’t know how he held up under that stiff stare; she was sure she would have melted into the carpeting. Perhaps, not a bad thing under the circumstances.

“I don’t know where you picked up that characteristic. Your father certainly was not known for his persuasive powers,” Lady Smythe-Burke began again. “Your mother can show some claws – but she lacks your grace. I will have to consider this carefully.”

“You are not to speak ill of my father.” There was an edge of iron in Tristan’s tone that Marguerite had never heard before. His words usually left a trail of sugar behind that one could only follow. This was different.

“Oh, my dear man, of course not. It is merely that you are more than either of your parents, and it bears some thought. It would be a wonder if society could learn to bring its children up in your mold, rather than the mollycoddled saps that I see in the park each morning.” She turned and raked her gaze over Marguerite. “And you, Miss? Do you think that you’re up to keeping Wimberley in line and assuring that he does right by his lineage? I would not have thought so, but then I would never have thought I’d be dragged from my bed under these circumstances. You may have more life in you than one would have expected.”

Marguerite dropped her glance back to her lap. She knew she should say something, but what? She needed to protest that she could not marry Tristan, but after being found in his lair by the lady dragon, was there really any choice?

“Ah, , Wimberley, you may have found the treasure that all men search for, a beauty of few words.” Lady Smythe-Burke turned back to him. “Is there baggage? No, I suppose not, that would be much too ordinary for this situation. It’s just as well if that’s your idea of fashion, Miss Wilkes. We’ll definitely need to see to your clothes. Well, then come along, girl, let us return to my residence and retire. My bones are not as young as they used to be.” She strode towards the doorway, her stiff posture demanding obedience.

Marguerite rose to follow. She found she didn’t have the strength to argue. Tomorrow, in the morning, she could attempt to dig her way out of this trench.

“Oh, and Wimberley, we will expect your call at a proper hour tomorrow. I wish to know all the details of this foolishness. And don’t think there will be any more improprieties before the ceremony. It will be soon enough for you to be alone again after the wedding. Am I clear, Wimberley?”

“Yes.”

“And I can trust you? I do not take kindly to being made a fool. It causes me to feel my age, something that you would regret, I must assure you.”

“I do not doubt your words.” Formality dripped from Tristan’s lips, as if he had stepped back from the conversation.

“Good. Come along, Miss Wilkes. I have been delayed from my slumbers long enough.”

Marguerite said not a word. As she trailed through the door, she marveled at fate. Not a single word, and her future was decided.



How could the days pass so quickly, and still leave her fastened in the same spot? Marguerite paced the ornate bed chamber, glaring at each sign of how far she had come from her own simple life. Tomorrow was her wedding day, and she still had not said Yes. She did not know whether to throw something or cry. Her life moved on as if her participation mattered not.

She would wake with the morning sun or the tap of the maid and take a tray in her room. At least Lady Smythe-Burke believed a lady only needed tea and bread to start the day. Marguerite’s stomach could handle that much. Then it was time to dress in her one gown and attend Lady Smythe-Burke in the parlor. Marguerite had probably not said more than fifteen sentences in all, but apparently that was acceptable.

Then they ate a light repast – again thankfully only foods that passed her lips easily. Afterwards she sat still and stiff, awaiting Tristan’s arrival.

That was the worst – and yet the best.

“Greetings, Miss Wilkes. And how does this day find you?”

“Well, my lord, and you?”

“Not a trouble to be found. The sun is bright for the season.”

“Yes, not a sign of rain or fog.”

“It was a glorious morning for a ride.”

“Indeed.”

Then silence.

She was marrying a man she’d seen fewer times than she had fingers, and she could barely finish a complete sentence around him. No matter what her dreams, what tingles of anticipation she sometimes felt in his presence, he was a stranger. Whatever had made her turn to him in trust?

Marguerite sagged onto the edge of the bed, her hands resting lightly on her stomach. She had sought freedom, the chance to determine her own future and this is what she’d received. She thought she’d learned from her mother’s lesson. How then could she have ended up here? On the morning she would be a wife, and soon enough a mother. It was all she had dreamed of on that night a year ago when she’d so eagerly followed Tristan into the garden. She should have been more careful of her prayers.



“You know I won’t be back after tomorrow.”

Tristan turned to face Violet as she reclined on the settee. Even now she was careful of the picture she presented – russet curls falling over white watered silk that gave every appearance she was naked beneath her thin gown. No matter the chill Violet dressed for impression.

She’d suited him so perfectly, but now it must be finished.

“I am surprised you called tonight,” she said, her voice husky. “I thought your need already past.”

He walked to the settee and sat beside her, bringing her feet up to rest in his lap.

“You know I can never give you thanks for all you’ve done.”

“No thanks are necessary. It was if anything a pleasure.”

“I do hope there is some truth in that. I know there must have been a cost as well.”

She chuckled deep in her throat. She reached over to the flowers arranged on a nearby table and plucked a single rose from a mass of deep-hued tulips. Crushing the petals so the scent mingled with waxy smell of the candle, she turned until her perfect features were inches from his own.

“Ah Tristan, you were always so good to me. The best lover I never had. If I had not met Westlake first, when you were all just overgrown boys, it might have been so different for us.” She reached up and rubbed a petal along his cheek. “You have been a true friend despite your games. Do not worry about what our relationship has done to me. When I married the second man four times my age, my place in society was set. When I married a third well into his eighties, it was cast in stone. Then, upon his death, I had the effrontery to choose as a lover a man younger than myself. I don’t think anything you have done can set the tongues wagging faster. I will still retain a thin shield of respectability.”

“Don’t pretend it doesn’t cut. Remember I know the truth.”

“Maybe – maybe not. I rather fancy my public image is as real as yours. What I am is a woman who can sit here alone in her home with a man to whom she is not wed and has never dreamed of marrying. That is enough for the gossips and it is the truth. A truth I do not wish to change.”

“But, what they will say when it is known I have cast you off to marry another – a woman ten years your junior, even if I am not old enough to be her father, much less her grandfather?”

“Tris.” Violet brought her hand up and rubbed his cheek. He could feel the rasp of his whiskers along her soft palm. “I do not care about any of that. What matters is that you know what you are doing. Did I make an error in sending Lady Smythe-Burke? I should have thought further, but there are not many respectable enough to rescue the poor girl, who would admit me after dark, and it did seem the answer to your dilemma.

“Don’t worry. The joke of the situation is that I had already asked her to wed. She actually had the impudence to refuse.”

“What – how?”

She pulled her feet off his lap and pulled herself upright. He stood. It was so much easier to think when moving. “I asked her as soon as I understood the situation. You are right. She is suited to my needs precisely. I wondered briefly if I’d regret the words when spoken, but I did not repent them. In fact when Marguerite demurred I did my best to persuade her to my view.” He stopped and stared at the burning flame as he considered what else to add. Violet knew many of his secrets, but far from all. “I saw her. I needed her. I claimed her. It is that simple, but of course it is not simple at all.”

He resumed his pacing. Violet’s head followed his movement.

“I do not understand.”

“It is true that Marguerite promises to be the key I needed. She is of the correct birth and demeanor to be accepted anywhere. And with Lady Smythe-Burke’s patronage she will even be welcomed. I should be most content with the situation. Even Lady Minerva Harburton and Lady Hawkins will extend her invitations.”

“I’d heard that Lady Harburton had extended you a multitude of invitations on your own in the past.” Violet raised a delicate brow.

Tristan coughed. “Yes, but I believe she was interested in activities other than tea. My refusals did not endear me to her.”

“No, I imagine not.” Violet dropped the ruined petals on the table and rose to stand beside him. “A sweet young wife is another matter. Do you not worry that Lady Harburton may feel the need to spread a little poison?”

“No. I will keep my wife well and she will have faith in me. I shall give her no reason to doubt.”

It was hard to miss the slight twist of Violet’s lips, but Tristan did his best. He would treat Marguerite fairly and that would be enough.

“I am glad that your plans are running so smoothly.” Violet’s soft words belied the disquiet on her face. “The moment I realized Marguerite’s identity it was clear she could be an asset. I remembered that Lady Smythe-Burke had claimed some influence in her sister’s marriage and I was sure she would take an interest in Marguerite. If she has Lady Smythe-Burke as a champion no one will dare refuse her. Marguerite is perfect, the granddaughter of a viscount through her mother and an earl though her father. She exudes sweetness and innocence. She will be invited everywhere and you will trail at her side. She is almost too good to be true.”

“I must confess I’d never had the thought until Marguerite presented herself.” Tristan smiled at Violet. “Then my mind ran parallel to yours. It will be simple to write the script that will explain all. The story will be that we met a year ago and have corresponded ever since. Now we can wait no longer. Our longing to be together is so great that she has run off to join me, fleeing her mother. It is a true love match.”

“Ah, , have you met her mother, though? She is not a pleasant character. It is hard to believe she caused her own scandal when still a girl. I believe she ran away to avoid marriage and became a governess. Then, she actually married a son of the household and regained respectability.”

Was that where Marguerite had gotten the idea of running off? “I hadn’t heard that, but it doesn’t matter. It is long ago and forgotten. As you say, the mother married respectably in the end. Marguerite has not a flaw.”

Violet lay a hand on his shoulder. “But what of when this particular game is over? Will your current associates welcome you back in their midst when you are done? Will they be so willing to share their secrets?”

“That is the true brilliance of my plan. Marguerite is with child.”

“Well then of course you must – but, no – it is not yours, is it?”

“No, but it will provide the perfect excuse when this is over. My current friends will understand that I was forced to wed and then grew bored quickly. It will seem very natural when I seek relief from matrimony in their midst.”

“You have thought of everything. But, what of her, your wife-to-be? You sound both cynical and callous in your plans.”

“She will be well cared for. What more could she want than to be the wife of a marquis? She should have no complaint.” Tristan refused to consider that Marguerite still seemed less than delighted by his offer. She was simply being foolish. He imagined her lying spread across his bed, her hair bright against the pillows. He would enjoy persuading her of the sense of his plan.

Violet pursed her lips. “If you say so. You are, after all, never wrong. I am sure she could do worse than to be caught in the net of England’s master spy.”

“I’ve told you before. I am not a spy, just a man with skill at getting answers to his questions.” He swiped his palm over his face. “It is true, though, that I already know how to position my impending nuptials. Is it such a crime? I am helping her. What is the problem with that?”

He strode over to the dark window and stared out. He had come only to say his private farewells not debate the soundness of his plan. Violet walked across the room to stand behind him, the whisper of fabric betraying her movement. She hesitated, and then wrapped her arms about his waist, resting her head between his shoulder blades. Anyone watching would have taken it for a lover’s gesture – but the only thing on offer here was comfort.

“I am sorry. I don’t mean to question. I know you would never hurt her. You are always careful of the innocent. It just seems like a great step to take without considering all the possibilities.”

“God, I don’t know.” For the first time Tristan felt doubt seep into his voice. “Having Lady Smythe-Burke arrive was both a blessing and a curse. If she is a driving force behind my marriage, she will ensure Marguerite’s welcome everywhere, but I must admit that I did feel the noose tighten when she entered. I am a better hound than fox. Still, all in all, the whole affair feels right. I have learned to follow my instincts. Does that make any sense?”

“Actually, yes. I know that everyone thought I married Carrington for his money, never mind I’d enough of my own after Stanton and Milton. But, in truth it just felt right. I actually didn’t mind another husband and he was in need of me as a wife.”

“You’ve never talked about him.”

“No, and I don’t intend to start now. Tris, I need to know, did I trap you by sending Lady Smythe-Burke? Are you just spinning another story to reassure me? I confess I didn’t think it through. The idea just came to me and there was not time to discuss it before we were interrupted.”

“I admit I didn’t appreciate Lady Smythe-Burke’s help in landing my bride. I became the hunted rather than the hunter. Not a sensation I am fond of. However, you are correct that having Lady Smythe-Burke take Marguerite in hand is an absolute guarantee of her acceptance.”

“I do wish your success. You’ve a magical ability to make the world revolve to your direction, but the more I consider, the more I wonder if we’ve made a mistake. A young pregnant bride does not seem the best of choices.”

“One would think not.” Tristan pulled away. “It is certainly not the normal course of a right-minded man. Marguerite, asked if I was crazed. Perhaps she is correct.”

“You have taken the insane route before and ended up at the top of the heap. Do you doubt yourself now?”

He turned to face her.

“No, that may be the most insane part of all. I know my reasons, and I trust in them. They are far more valid than the world can ever know.” Again he saw Marguerite curled on his sheets. She smiled at him, her lips curved as they had been about the wedge of lemon, her eyes speaking of pleasures yet to come. He coughed and stepped away, rearranging the fall of his coat. He walked to the center of the room. “But that is not why I came. Violet, I need to be sure this will not cause you more hurt.”

Her contralto laugh filled the room.

“You make it sound as if I were your mistress and you needed to give me a farewell kiss and a parting gift. Have you begun to believe your own fabrications? I won’t refuse a present, though. A lady can never have enough jewels.”

“You do me good. If I were ever to take another mistress I could not do better. I chose wisely for my fabrication, as you put it. Go ahead. Choose some sparkling trinket and have the bill sent to me.”

She turned her face away, and spoke. “But, would I ever become your mistress? You may have an angel’s face, but you know I am partial to younger men. You are by far too ancient for me – your brother Peter, now, he might be another matter . . . But, don’t worry, Tris. This will cause me no further damage.”

He detected only the slightest wobble in her voice.