My Honourable Viscount - Lords of Reluctance Book 2

Chapter Eight

Lady Elizabeth Darnley cut a determined swathe through the unbearable crush toward her quarry. Watching Lord Markham’s dignified elegance through narrowed eyes, she thought he held the grace and the raw power of a jungle cat as he graciously greeted members of his family, friends, and acquaintances. Growing increasingly warmer, she felt the familiar sensation of carnal awakening at the sight of the perfect specimen of masculinity that was her lover. With one amorous glance, one gentle kiss, one tender caress, he alone had the power to melt her into a puddle of need. And she did not have any intention of allowing him out of her bed.

Despite his assurances at their last assignation that his marriage would not interfere with their arrangement, as it was one of only convenience, she still felt the niggling fear that he would choose to honour his vows. While other gentlemen had no qualms about choosing to keep a mistress in addition to his wife, Lord Markham on the other hand had a rather warped sense of honour, and that same sense of honour had thwarted her plans for the young viscount in the past.

Born to a modest country squire, she had believed from the first that she was destined for greater things. The only child, she had grown up spoilt, wilful, and self-centred, having her every whim catered to by her doting parents. Learning early on that her beauty was a formidable weapon, she handled it with the panache of a master swordsman, often using it to deflect blame onto others for her own misbehaviour and counter any opposition to her will.

Then, she had arrived in London, expecting the whole of the ton to fall at her feet, declaring her the Season’s Incomparable. People had told her how beautiful she was for most of her life after all. Expecting Dukes and Marquesses to clamour for her hand, she was furious when all she could attract was the attentions of a mere Baron. Her conceit did not allow her to think that Dukes and Marquesses could look higher than the daughter of a country squire, not matter how beautiful she was. Having no other choice, as her parents only had enough money for one Season, she had to accept the aging Lord Darnley, and when he could not satisfy her in bed, she discreetly took lovers to feed her voracious sexual appetite. It was not until a year after her marriage to Lord Darnley that she met Lord Markham.

Convinced of the power she wielded, she had mistakenly believed that her marriage would not prove to be an insurmountable obstacle in her desire to lure Lord Markham into her bed. His passionate virility had drawn her from their first introduction and she had immediately recognised the gleam of interest that shone back at her from the emerald green depths of his eyes. However, he had cited his honour as the reason for refusing to succumb to temptation, as he could never bring himself to seduce another man’s wife. Seduction had naught to do with it; she was ready and willing. At the time, his reluctance seemed at odds with his rakish reputation. Of course, she had heard the rumours. If she believed half of them, he would bed any female that looked twice at him, and he had not bothered to repudiate the claims. So why was he so unwilling?

Anger had turned to hope and then reverted back to anger when the old fool Darnley had died. Convinced Peter would at last grace her bed, she had almost thrown a priceless vase at his head when he once again refused, believing she should not tarnish her dearly departed husband’s memory by lying with another man until her year of mourning had concluded. Damn Society and their rules, she had fumed. Why should she have to wear dreary black and remain confined to her house for at least half a year to mourn a man she did not even like, let alone love? Even then she could only wear grey or lavender and leave the house to attend sober entertainments and not the usual frivolous ones she so enjoyed. The only reasons she had married him was for his title, his wealth, and his age. A gentleman of his indifferent health could not hope to live beyond a few years, and then Beth would become very wealthy in her own right with all of the freedoms afforded to a widow. Freedom he had denied her as his wife, and certainly more freedom than she had when she lived with her parents.