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‘I am glad I have your blessing,’ Marcus said drily, sipping his wine. ‘However, I fear it may be a little premature.’
‘But if you have been making love to her you really must marry her, you know,’ Diane teased, then, seeing his face darken, was suddenly serious. ‘Chéri, what is the matter?’
‘I only wish I knew,’ he confessed. ‘Yes, we did make love… to a point. But there is something wrong. Diane, she responds to me with passion and fire and yet there is a part of her that remains untouched, for all the intensity of our lovemaking. It is almost as though she were afraid. She is afraid,’ he corrected himself.
‘But she was married, for two years, was it not?’ Diane broke off as the butler entered.
‘Dinner is served, Madame.’
Both the butler and a footman were standing attentively by the high buffet, but Diane waved them away. ‘Thank you, Henry, Monsieur le Comte will carve, we will serve ourselves.’ As soon as they were alone she said, ‘A little salmon, please, Marcus, and if you will pass the dish of peas… Thank you, darling. Now, where were we?’
‘You were asking how long Marissa had been married. It was just over two years, I believe. She wed very young. And yet, I find this difficult to believe, Diane, but I could swear she had never been kissed until I kissed her.’
‘Perhaps it is simply that she has not yet fully recovered from the loss of her husband? Would you pour me a glass of the Sancerre?’
Marcus passed her the glass. ‘She can hardly bear to speak of him. I found her in tears in front of his portrait and she is always very formal when she mentions him, as though she wants to keep me at a distance from the marriage. And, of course, my likeness to him is a constant reminder of what she has lost. Do you know, she fainted dead away the first time she saw me? She must have loved him very much.’
‘Loved him – or hated him. They are two sides of the same coin, Marcus.’
He put down his wine glass with great deliberation, his eyes fixed on her intelligent, concerned face. ‘Hated him? But, Diane, that would explain a great deal. One day, soon after the funeral, I found her in the family chapel. She was standing by the mausoleum, and when she saw me she was terrified, as if I were his ghost. And her words struck me as strange at the time, but I put it down to the shock of her loss.’
‘What did she say, Marcus?’ Diane’s food lay untouched on her plate.
‘She said, He has really, gone, has he not? He will not be coming back? Naturally, I assumed that her words were spoken in grief.’
‘Oh, no.’ Diane shook her head, making the ringlets fall over her shoulder. ‘Oh, no, she wanted to make sure he was really dead. That is why she needed to see the tomb, his name on it, to make certain he was in it.’ She forked up a piece of salmon and chewed thoughtfully. ‘Did you see me speaking to her father? Mon Dieu, but that man is a pig. How one such as he could have sired Marissa, I cannot imagine! All the time he was talking to me he was undressing me with his eyes, leering at my bosom. Ugh.’ She shivered and sipped her wine, as if to wash away the thought of Sir George’s lecherous behaviour.
‘It is not like you to tolerate such a type. Why did you remain with him?’
‘I was curious to know more of Marissa. The first time I met her I could tell she was not happy, that she was hiding something. And I tell you, that man would sell his soul to the Devil, never mind his daughter, if the money was enough. That first marriage was all wrong, yet I can tell she is in love with you.’ She met his arrested gaze with a smile. ‘Yes, she is in love with you, you fool! How could you doubt it?’
Marcus pushed his chair back and stalked over to the buffet. But then he stopped, the carving knife and fork in his hands, staring at the roast capon with unseeing eyes. ‘But if she loves me why was she so reluctant to agree to marry me and, when she finally did agree, why did she insist on keeping it a secret?’ He hacked at the chicken, producing a ragged lump of breast meat.
‘And?’ Diane prompted. She knew, as always, that something else was eating at him.
‘And when I made love to her this afternoon, she wept.’
‘Because she was happy?’
‘No,’ Marcus said bleakly. ‘Because she had forced herself to go through with it.’
‘She was unwilling?’ Diane asked incredulously.
Marcus abandoned the capon and paced away, to stare down into the dark street below. ‘Not at first. For God’s sake, Diane, you know I would never force myself on a woman.’
‘I know, chéri,’ she said soothingly.
> ‘Then I thought she was shy. After all, it is over a year since her husband died.’
‘But there is more.’
‘Yes. It was fear, Diane. I know fear when I see it, and she was afraid. How can that be?'
‘Has it occurred to you that your highly respectable late cousin was not all he seemed? That perhaps he had tastes which, how shall we say, were unusual, that made his young bride afraid?’
It was what he had half-feared, had pushed away because he couldn’t bear to think it. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Marcus, you are a man of the world. You know there are other men who take pleasure in inflicting fear, pain. She was a very young woman, a virgin, when she came – was sold – to the Earl. How was she to know it could be any other way?’
