The Marquess Who Loved Me - By Sara Ramsey Page 0,92
the silence. “Lucia. Mrs. Grafton, I should say.”
“And?” Nick prompted.
“And I won’t betray the lady’s confidences by sharing with you.”
“The lady? She’s a maid. A maid I’m paying for, if I’m not mistaken.”
Marcus narrowed his eyes. “You don’t know the first thing about her. If you had, you wouldn’t have involved her in your revenge with Ellie. She told me how you’re dressing Ellie up like some sort of high-priced plaything. She won’t forgive you for what you’re doing. She won’t forgive any of us.”
Nick held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I won’t apologize for Ellie. But I didn’t know you had interests toward her maid.”
“There are many things you don’t know. As much as I prefer England, perhaps I should have been the one to go to India.”
He swirled the whisky in his glass. Nick recognized the weight of memory — he had labored under his own long enough that it was easy to see the signs of torment in others. “Be glad you stayed here, brother,” he said. “I am. You couldn’t have done more for the company or the family anywhere else.”
Marcus looked up. “I know. But for myself? I think Sebastian Staunton had the right idea. He moved to another continent to start something of his own. As long as his brother is alive, Sebastian is just an idle gentleman here. Your absence gave me an illusion of responsibility. But illusions aren’t enough to build a future on.”
Nick didn’t respond. His own illusions were too fresh to offer any comfort to his brother.
The silence amplified the crackling fire. Somewhere in the distance, someone laughed. There was still pleasure around them, even if Nick didn’t feel it. He only felt the chill — of the weather, or of regret, he didn’t know.
Finally, he sighed. “You have to find a way past the illusion, Marcus. Now that I’m back, you’ll have time for it.”
“Are you staying?”
Nick shrugged. “For now.”
Marcus eyed him over his glass. “And what will your answer be in June?”
Nick didn’t understand for a moment. When he did, he realized that he’d forgotten the terms of his agreement with Ellie. He was thinking about forever, or never, not a span of mere months.
“I liked India, but it never felt like a true home. If…”
He trailed off. Marcus smiled sympathetically. “Trouble with your revenge?”
“I won’t betray the lady’s confidences by sharing with you,” Nick said, imitating Marcus’s former annoyance over Lucia.
“Can’t say I’m surprised. I’ve known Ellie long enough to always put my money on her.”
“Traitor. Are you sure the two of you aren’t plotting to kill me?”
Marcus drained the rest of his whisky. “Again, if we were, my money would be on her. But if you had seen how she obsessed over these rooms, choosing things you would like, making homes for you — no one puts that much love into someone she intends to destroy.”
“Thank you,” Nick said abruptly.
Marcus frowned. “For what?”
“For watching over her while I was gone. Even if Lucia gave you an ulterior motive.”
Marcus was smart enough to catch the gratitude beneath the teasing, but he still played along. “Don’t worry yourself. Invitations to Ellie’s bacchanals over the past ten years were all the payment I needed. The first one she gave after Charles died, when two dozen half-clothed opera dancers performed for the audience — if Charles died in the arms of one of those Cyprians, he died a happy man. I hope you won’t reform her too much.”
“We both know reforming Ellie is a lost cause.”
“I’m glad you know that.”
Marcus sounded more serious then, but he didn’t press. Instead, he set aside his glass and looked at his watch. “I should return to my bed. My money is on her, but I trust you’ll come out all right. If you can’t forge through the path you’re on — I know you well enough to know you’ll find a different path.”
Marcus left before Nick responded. Or perhaps he knew Nick wouldn’t respond.
The problem with the killer would resolve itself eventually — either with Nick’s death or the killer’s. The problem with Ellie, though, wasn’t so black and white. Did he want his revenge? Or did he want her happiness?
And were those two things mutually exclusive?
He had thought they were. When he had believed that she had refused him all those years ago because she didn’t love him, he had assumed that his revenge would destroy her. But if he were honest with himself, if he let his eyes