The Morose Marquess (The Unobtainables #2)

Chapter One

As old as time, a sinister tale,

a curse cast upon the firstborn male.

Though few will remember that fateful day,

when my duplicitous love cast me away.

I will enact my revenge upon another young son,

who will pay the price before I am done.

The malleable mind of a child in sadness

will be nurtured and turned into a man of madness.

So to love is to suffer, as you once made me do,

and I cherish the thought of him never loving too.

- Old journal entry

* * *

FRANCE …

Arrestingly handsome and exquisitely dressed, the gentleman appeared to notice nothing of his opulent surroundings save the woman before him.

“Oh! Monsieur le Comte, you are incorrigible,” she giggled.

Leaning a little closer, Louis, Le Comte de Roche, afforded her the most charming, yet wolfish of smiles. “Ma Cherie, how else is one to enjoy such entertainments, if not by entertaining oneself?”

“They said you were wicked.”

“And yet, here you are.”

“Oui,” she laughed softly, “and all the more intrigued. Tell me, Comte… um, Comte?”

But Louis’s head had snapped to the side, his startlingly deep violet eyes narrowing as they fixed upon something across the crowded ballroom. “Tell me… who is that? In the apricot silk?”

It wasn’t a question but a command, and the young woman blinked in surprise before following his gaze. “You, you mean the new Comtesse de Tremblay? She is newly arrived from Italy and of little consequence, quite uninteresting, I hear.”

“Uninteresting?” His lips curved. “I beg to differ. She appears to possess a most distinctive sparkle about her,” and before the woman could reply, Louis was striding across the vast room towards the dance floor.

The dazzling sea of silk and satin parted before him. Feathers and lace fluttered excitedly as fans snapped open to conceal the whispers; jewels twinkling, catching the light from the vast chandeliers, as heads and bodies turned in unrestrained curiosity.

A hushed gasp rippled in his wake as the Comte wandered into the middle of the dance floor. Unaffected that he was drawing the attention of the majority, he tapped a young gentleman on the shoulder. “May I cut in?”

“You may not…” the young man began forcefully — then faltered, paling as he recognised the intruder. “Forgive me, Monsieur le Comte. Of course.”

The Comtesse de Tremblay, wide-eyed and a little startled, dropped a slight courtesy and placed her hand in his, yet her gaze did not lower; it met his directly as he swept her into the dance.

“My apologies for the interruption, Comtesse. May I introduce myself?”

“No need, your appearance is quite as striking as they say.”

Rather delighted by her directness and the slight husky timber of her voice, Louis asked, “Ah, then you know who I am?”

“Only a foolish woman would arrive at a new court without acquainting herself with who is who.”

“Yet you look frightened, Comtesse,” he teased silkily. “I do not wish to eat you, only to dance.”

“I am not frightened, merely surprised when such beauties abound without a dance partner, who do wish to be eaten.”

A laugh rumbled from his chest. “Indeed, there are, but are you not a beauty too?”

“Apparently, I am as tall as a horse, with a face to match.”

He studied her for a moment, tilting his head slightly to one side, “Tsk. Is that truly how you view yourself?”

“How I view myself is of little consequence since society has already decided. Tis simply how it is.”

“And your new husband?”

“Sees beauty only in the fortune his Italian heiress brought him. My family, in turn, saw an ancient title. So, here I am. Married. A Comtesse. Every young lady’s dream.”

“Yet not yours?”

“Monsieur le Comte, would you wish to be wedded and bedded by the Comtesse de Pelletier?”

“Touche,” laughed Louis, genuinely amused by the young woman’s quick tongue and unwavering gaze.

“Nor, I daresay, would you enjoy having your freedoms taken from you.”

“Hm, indeed not,” he replied, his tone dropping, instantly discouraged by the undercurrent of self-pity, adding a little morosely, “Yet here I am, to make you an offer, for I wish to take something else from you…”

“Of course, you do, my lord. Why else would we be dancing? Do I pass inspection?”

Louis’s head inclined slightly, his eyes narrowing in curiosity. “Um… what is it you think I wish to take from you?”

“Monsieur le Comte, I assume whatever you hold over my husband is no mere promissory note. He has more than enough money to discharge such now. No…” she mused, “if I were to guess, I should say you have a document, or information he fears falling into the wrong hands. In any case, it matters little as I understand I am to offer myself in exchange, though please know, I do not do this for him.”

“Offer yourself… to be bedded!”

“Yes. In one of his drunken rages, he has demanded it. Thus, albeit a little sooner than expected, since this is only my first social outing, here I am, offering myself. He believes it is one form of payment that will be acceptable … to mount the Comtesse de—”

“Good gracious!” exclaimed Louis, rather more affected than he cared to admit. Drawing a deep breath, he studied the young woman more closely. “I may be many things, my dear, but a man who forces his attentions upon an unwilling partner is not one of them.”

“I see. Though I know not whether I should feel relieved or insulted.” She laughed, yet there was no humour in it.

“Have any of Tremblay’s other debts been…”

“No,” she cut across sharply. “Yours is the only name. And I would never offer…”

“Mm. Yet you just did, so tell me, what does he hold over you?”

She regarded him steadily. “Does it matter?”

He considered her question. Whatever her answer, he would still take what he wanted. Yet the flash of steely determination reflecting back at him piqued his curiosity anew. “It may matter, yes.”

Sighing, she shrugged her shoulders with studied nonchalance. “He threatened to shoot my dog.”

Seldom expressive, Louis’s dark, perfectly sculpted eyebrows rose momentarily as he echoed, “Shoot your dog!”

“Yes, but it would have forced me to shoot him, between the eyes,” she said, noting the astonishment in the Comte’s handsome face.

Interpreting it as disbelief, she added petulantly, “I am rather a crack shot. I can take a lemon from the branch at fifty paces. Therefore,” she continued, as if discussing nothing more consequential than the weather, “I decided that visiting your bed for a night was preferable to meeting with your famous guillotine. So… now we have established you do not wish to bed me, what is it you do wish to take from me? If it is my husband, then please, you have my blessing.”

“Comtesse!” laughed Louis, genuinely surprised.

Such moments were rare, and he paused, considering this unexpected young woman more objectively.

Newly arrived, still to find her place in society, a potential beauty with spirit — could he be fortunate enough to have stumbled upon yet another overlooked gem tonight?

Two birds, one stone? With amused satisfaction, he clicked his tongue.

“Tsk, tsk. I do not believe we have established any such thing, my dear. Nor am I in the habit of disposing of troublesome husbands. Though…” he lowered his voice slightly, “after what you have just told me, and if you are willing to give me what I desire without a fuss, I may be inclined to tilt the balance of power in your favour.”

“The balance of power?”

“Mm, within your marriage, my dear, and improve your social standing.”

“Really? How so?”

“Oh, I have my ways.”

“And why would you wish to help me?”

“Do not be fooled, my dear. My motives are purely self-serving. You just happened to be in the right place, at the right time. A simple case of serendipity. Nothing more, nothing less. And…”

“And?”

“I adore dogs… detest your husband, and it will be delightfully entertaining, transforming you into one of the most influential Comtesse’s in society. Life has grown a little dull of late, and I have rather a penchant for watching society squirm.”

She half snorted. “Me? Come, Comte, now I know you are teasing. What a shame though… I was rather enjoying our little game of fantasy. Enacting revenge upon my odious husband, such a tantalising thought.”

Louis gave her a wicked smile, “You underestimate yourself, my dear. Understandable, since you have foolishly allowed yourself to be brow-beaten. Yet, more foolish would be to underestimate me.”

“Hm, brow-beaten, you think?”

“Your eyes shine with an intelligence you have chosen to hide. You possess a quick wit and already hold one of the oldest titles: Comtesse de Tremblay. An ancient family name affords one influence, and if your fortune is as considerable as I presume, then with wealth comes power… if one knows how to wield it. And, my dear, you are indeed a beauty.”

“Flattery? Really?”

“Offering empty compliments for the purpose of ingratiating oneself to further one’s interest is not my style, my dear.

” Holding her a little farther apart, he studied her with a critical eye.

“You possess a classical Romanesque beauty, flawless complexion, yet your hair is styled in such an appalling manner it detracts from your finer qualities. And as to your gown… tsk, tsk,” he shook his head, his violet eyes alight with mischief.

She laughed, “And what pray tell, what is wrong with my gown?”

“Everything, my dear. The colour, the cut, the flounces. Your modiste should be ashamed of herself.”

She gasped in mock protest. “But I was assured it is the height of Parisian fashion.”

“That’s as maybe, but if you accept my offer, you will not wear what fashion dictates — you will dictate what is considered fashionable. So?” he asked, as the music swelled and the dance drew to its end, though neither made to move from the dance floor.

“As tempting as this all sounds, you have yet to tell me what I must give up in return for such heady dreams. My firstborn child? My soul, perhaps?”

“Ha,” laughed Louis. “It takes a devil to know one, my dear, yet my proclivities err more on the side of pleasure than the satanic.”

“So, is that your price? To become your marionette, dancing atop society at the end of your influencing strings? Spying, manipulating?”

Louis tilted his head, regarding her thoughtfully. “Seems I have not misjudged you, my dear… but, no… my price is a little higher.”

“Though you will expect me to do… um, favours, once you have elevated me to this position of power?”

“Trifles, my dear, and I suspect you will enjoy the games as much as I. Empty-headed puppets do not interest me; therefore, I do not wish to become your puppet master.”

“I see. So, what is this price of yours?”

“Simple.” His eyes lowered, and he nodded towards her chest. “I want your necklace.”

“My…” she spluttered. “My necklace? I… I don’t understand. Admittedly, it is exquisite, and I have seen little else to rival it. But surely a man of your wealth could acquire another jewel of equal beauty.”

“I could indeed,” said Louis, violet eyes darkening as they lingered on the sapphire and diamond pendant, his tone now devoid of warmth. “But it is this particular stone I desire.” Blinking his gaze away, he looked back at her. “Do we have a deal?”

“Can I trust you will honour your end of the bargain?”

“That, my dear, is for you to decide. What does your instinct tell you?”

She stared at him for a few moments, then nodded her agreement and began to lift her hands to unclasp the necklace.

“No.” Louis stopped her instantly, looping her hand through his arm. “Not here. I will have one of my footmen come and collect it after the ball. Now, let us take refreshment.”

“You wish me to accompany…”

“Of course. The bargain is struck, the game has begun, ma chère. Your elevation starts now.”

“Oh?”

“Henceforth, you are now the wicked Comte de Roche’s favourite new companion, the talk of the town. A pray tell, what shall I call you?”

“My name?”

“Yes, my dear, we are intimates now. You have a name beyond Comtesse, do you not? And you shall call me Louis.”

“I am afraid it is not one that conjures up an image of influence… my mother was English, you understand, and…”

Louis pulled them to a halt and locked eyes with her. “Have I misjudged you?”

“Poppy. It’s Poppy… after my mother’s favourite flower.”

“Poppy,” echoed Louis, a smile slowly illuminating his face, his eyes sparkling with delight. “Perfect! Poppy. Yes, I must say, very fitting indeed.”

“Fitting? Really?”

“A bold bloom, indeed. Daring in colour yet delicate in appearance. She stands tall and proud where others would wilt, and best of all, she possesses the power to alter the mind, to bend the strongest to her will. Oh, yes, little Poppy, you really are an unexpected find.”

“Alter the mind?”

“Opium, my little flower, you are my opium. Now, turn your face to mine and gift me with that delightful little giggle you gave earlier.”

Without being conscious of doing so, she did indeed giggle.

“Perfect. We are already becoming a sensation.”

“Um, Louis?”

“Mm?”

“Why this sapphire? Why this particular stone?”

“Tsk, tsk.” He shook his head in reproof. “Lesson number one, sweet Poppy. Never ask a question to which you know you will receive no answer.”

“Mm, well, whatever the reason, you should know I would have surrendered it for a far lesser price. As magnificent as it is, it was a wedding gift and rests against my chest like a brand… marking me as a possession.”

“Then, tomorrow, my Poppy, we shall replace it with something you chose, something quite exquisite, that marks you as your own woman. And, I think you should know, if I had wanted to, I would have just taken it.”

“Yes, I believe you would. And if we are going to be totally truthful with each other… I was not completely unwilling to… to discharge my husband’s debt.”

Louis arched an eyebrow. “Really?”

“I think you knew as much, so you should also know, it is no longer an option now we are… what shall we call it… affiliates?”

His full attention snapped to her. She held her breath in anticipation under his intense gaze until finally, his features slowly softened into the most rakish of smiles. “Is that so?” he murmured silkily.

“It… it is. I do not believe it would be to my advantage if we were…”

A wolfish glint flickered in his eyes as they searched deep into hers. He blinked, his long, thick lashes lazily opening as he smiled. “Mm, as you wish, my sweet. Now… champagne?”

“Champagne? I have never tried it.”

Louis, unaccustomed to genuine astonishment, shook his head and laughed softly. “Then let this be the second of many lessons to come. Such a surprising and delightful gift you are. And smile, sweet Poppy… all eyes are upon us, including those of that loathsome creature you are wed to.”