Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

“ J uliet, I swear to you I do not know what came over me, I just…I just…I became enraged! Consumed! I…I completely lost myself!”

Lydia stumbled over her words as she paced back and forth in Juliet’s room. Her younger sister watched her worriedly from the bed. At dinner, their father had talked at them the entire time about Ezra, and before Lydia could do anything, he had pulled Juliet into his office for a private conversation afterward. She’d waited impatiently in Juliet’s room for her to return, and the moment she did so, she began to spill her thoughts.

“You just looked so frightened, and I suddenly remembered, you know? All those things we hear about him. Not just from the ton , but from Duncan and Alice too, and the others! Oh, I know they love him for whatever reasons and that is fine, but his reputation is accurate. He is a vile man. He…he is reputed to be soulless. It is worrisome how he is repeatedly able to climb out of his father’s debt…”

“Debt?” Juliet asked, interrupting Lydia for the first time. “What debt?”

Lydia grimaced. While Juliet knew about the four dukes and their fathers’ deaths, she did not know the specifics. Lydia preferred to keep it that way.

“Never you mind,” she replied hastily, returning to her pacing, “What I meant to say is that he is horrid. Absolutely horrid.”

“It does not matter what you think anyway,” Juliet laughed sadly, shaking her head as she looked down at her hands. “He could have the perfect reputation, and I still would not want to marry him. But what can I do? Papa has made up his mind. He told me so after dinner tonight. I am to be the Duke of Frampton’s wife whether I wish it or not.”

Papa. During the flurry of emotions in which Ezra had wrapped her, she had completely forgotten about her father’s final say in the matter. It was as good as law, and even if Juliet had managed to say no to Ezra in the sitting room earlier, it would not have mattered. Not if Ezra had chosen her and their father had agreed.

“Oh, darling,” Lydia sighed, going to Juliet.

Like she had since she was a child, Juliet opened her arms and let her oldest sister scoop her into a tight hug. There were some things, no matter their age, which would never change.

“I cannot do it, Lydia, I cannot,” Juliet sobbed, clinging to her. “I…I must confess something. I have been holding the truth from you, sister. Trying to find my way to happiness, but now I…I must tell you and you…you must help me.”

“Juliet,” Lydia gasped, pulling away to look at Juliet, “Tell me what is going on this instant, please. ”

“I am in love,” Juliet confessed, her eyes shining with fear as her tears ran unchecked.

Lydia deadpanned.

“Wh…what? But, if you have found your match and he is noble…Juliet, I do not understand!” she sighed, exhausted. “Why would you go through the charade of accepting suitors if you are already set? Why didn’t you confess this earlier to Father and me? Is he not noble?”

“His name is Edmund Perth, and he will be a baron,” Juliet answered through her sniffling, “But his father forced him to join the Navy for two years as a demonstration of his loyalty before he was allowed to claim his title. He left a few months ago, just as he was about to approach Father, and it was so sudden that he only had enough time to get a short letter to me, asking me to wait for him. I did…did not even get to say goodbye. But I have to wait for him, Lydia, I have to!”

“Hush, now, Papa will hear you,” Lydia whispered insistently, covering her sister’s mouth as she looked toward the door.

Juliet’s voice had risen so suddenly from a trembling plea to a frightened, desperate cry that Lydia had not been able to catch her in time. They waited anxiously until they were sure their father was not coming, and then Lydia let out a sigh and dropped her hand from Juliet’s mouth.

“I am sorry,” Juliet rasped, her eyes filling with tears again.

“Do not be sorry,” Lydia whispered back, patting her youngest sister’s cheeks dry, “I just do not want Papa to hear you.”

“Not just about raising my voice,” Juliet replied, “About keeping this secret from you, from Papa. Perhaps if Edmund and I had handled the situation better we could have wed before he left. But it got so confusing so fast that neither of us could grasp control. And now, now Papa is basically selling me to the Duke of Frampton. I hear the rumors of him too, sister. They do not fall on deaf ears, I assure you.”

Lydia’s mind reeled as she took in her sister’s secret. It would be awful to have Juliet wed Ezra even without the news of her love for Edmund, but now? Now she had to make sure Ezra would not pursue her. She did not know this Edmund Juliet spoke of, but any man worth his salt would fight for Juliet, and Ezra was just the type of man to put a bullet through his chest with glee.

“I will run away. I will talk to Alice. I will…”

“No,” Lydia said softly, pulling herself from her thoughts.

She reached for Juliet’s hands and took them into her own, squeezing gently.

“I will handle this, Juliet. I promise you.”

Lydia said her words with as much confidence as possible and when she saw the look of relief on Juliet’s face, she knew she had lied beautifully.

“Lady Lydia Knight,” Ezra mused, taking a slow measure of the woman standing before him. “Tell me, is it customary for elder sisters to make house calls to their sisters’ suitors? Or have you interpreted the name Lady Knight as possessing a different meaning?”

The milk and honey flesh below Lydia’s freckles heated into a soft pink as she glared at him, but she tilted her chin upward in defiance. His meeting with Juliet had admittedly went as poorly as he’d expected, but he was still both amused and curious when his valet, Caleb, informed him that Lydia was his late-night visitor.

“I am not even going to honor that question with a response,” Lydia replied coldly, still standing in her hooded cloak. “What we have to discuss is of much higher importance than your putrid sense of humor.”

“ Oh, dear,” Ezra drawled, turning away from her and toward his drink cart, “What vile words from such a prim lady. Duncan and Alice made you seem quite proper, but I see you have them completely fooled.”

Ezra took his time pouring his drink and when he finally turned back to Lydia he saw her rage. The look of it, the feel of it, stirred something deep inside him, so much so that he had to hitch a breath. He had seen her many times since Alice had become a part of their little orphaned family, but never like this. Never so bold, so fearless, so icily beautiful that even he could feel the chill of it.

His mother Sophia had been beautiful and cold as well. Still was, he was sure of it. And yet, somehow, Lydia was so different from her. Not vain or greedy, but pure and righteous. He knew what she was here for; to dissuade him from marrying Juliet, just as she had tried to dissuade Alice from wedding Duncan.

“Under normal circumstances I would proudly be the model of primness, Your Grace,” Lydia told him with an air of her usual respect, “But as you have created an unusual circumstance I am not so dimwitted as to simply approach you with pretty manners.”

“I am…almost impressed,” Ezra could not help but admit as he raised his glass to his lips.

Lydia untied her hooded cloak and let it slip from her shoulders, revealing her simple dress from earlier, but the sight made Ezra’s glass freeze before he tipped it back. Her long, light golden-brown hair was unbound, tendrils escaping and curling around her shoulders and down to her elbows. He’d never seen her like this before. Normally every hair was pinned properly into place and above her neck.

He suddenly imagined what it would feel like to slide his fingers into those locks of inviting hair.

She has never been touched , he realized with awe as the fantasy continued. Of course, she would not let anyone touch her. Not a woman like her. Ezra suddenly imagined how many men had tried and failed to woo her. There must have been dozens. But with him…

Lydia would tremble under his touch, perhaps gasp at how profoundly gentle he could be. He would stroke his fingers behind her ears, over the back of her skull, and then down her spine until she melted into his touch. Then he would gently take a fistful of those silken strands and give them just the slightest of tugs. He’d watch as her eyes sparked, and her lips opened in an aroused gasp as she felt the sharp, small pain.

“Could you please do me the courtesy of at least pretending to listen to me?” Lydia snapped at him, pulling him from his thoughts.

Alarmed at how deep he’d fallen into such a tame fantasy, Ezra let a sneer slip from his lips before he returned to his drink and emptied the glass in one swallow. As the alcohol cleared his head he let out a growling cough and returned his stare to its usual dead-eyed expression.

“You interrupted my evening, not the other way around,” he replied numbly. “If my attention is not on you it is then apparent it is somewhere else, is it not? You shall need to say something more enticing to capture it.”

That flare of gold and bronze leaped from her green eyes again, and she stormed toward him like a goddess on a rampage. Without preamble, she closed the space between them, clutched hold of his chin, and tilted him down until he was incapable of avoiding her stare.

“My sister,” Lydia stated, pronouncing each word clearly, “You will let her go from this marriage contract.”

Ezra felt an ache rise in his jaw as his body suddenly blazed alive from her touch. Desire, lust, the need to bury himself in something was a sensation he suffered from, every minute of every day. He had trained himself to exercise restraint and control, as most proper men do until he could address his needs at a more appropriate time. But now…now if he was not careful, he’d crush the glass in his hand and tear a hole in his trousers.

“No,” he purred, his gaze unmoving from hers. Even if she was affecting him, he would not let her know it.

He could easily move away from her touch. With a simple hold on her wrist, he could loosen her grip on his chin and pin her to the wall. Yet he stayed where he was, immediately addicted to this new and delicious torture, and was rewarded when Lydia gripped his chin harder as rage poured from her glittering eyes.

“What do you need her for?” Lydia demanded.

“I need a wife,” Ezra replied, pretending a bored shrug.

Lydia laughed condescendingly as she let go of his chin with a little push. It sent a hot, lightning-like sensation through his entire jaw and down the muscled column of his neck, and he had to stop himself from reaching up to touch where her fingers had just been.

“I know you need a wife,” Lydia replied with an exasperated look after putting some space between them. “I know more than you think.”

“Doubtful,” Ezra retorted, though he already suspected otherwise.

“Let me guess, oh Duke of Chaos,” Lydia replied, her voice dripping with a healthy dose of sarcasm, “You have exhausted most of your business ventures because your reputation has grown a bit too frightening? Made your threats of evil spirits under your bidding a little too believable?”

Now Ezra was thankful that his deadpan expression was identical to his bored one because he was not expecting Lydia to call him out so bluntly. Yes, he had anticipated she’d drop a polite hint or two about his situation but had not been prepared for her unbridled deliverance of truth.

Still, he would not let her know it.

“Oh, I do love a good theory,” he replied mockingly, taking a seat. “Go on.”

Ezra sank into a relaxed position in his chair, letting his legs splay wide as he leaned into its cushioned back. He rested an elbow on his pectoral and touched a finger to his lips, then flicked his brow as if to say, well?

Lydia studied him closely a moment longer, as though trying to determine his next move. After determining he was being genuine, she gave a single nod, took a seat across from him, and sat at its edge with a straight back.

“Two of your best friends have gotten married in the last two years and their businesses have increased exponentially,” Lydia observed, “Duncan’s, especially, and he was most similar to you in reputation before his marriage to my sister, was he not? When his marriage to her softened that image, it opened him up to wider markets, correct?”

Ezra was forced to nod, which earned him a smug look from Lydia before she continued.

“I believe the Duke of Darkness has pushed himself as far as he can go on his own. Do you believe that if you have someone as sweet as Alice on your arm, it will provide you with the same opportunities Duncan was afforded because you will appear more trustworthy, reliable…perhaps even a little softened?”

“Do not use that word again,” Ezra warned, having heard enough.

Lydia’s brow perked up again as she innocently asked, “What? Soft?”

“That is enough,” Ezra stated, the word grating on his ears like sand. “So, you know what I am doing. I am impressed, no doubt, my lady, but how does you being aware of what I’ve planned deter me from taking Juliet as my bride? You are right, I cannot have Alice, nor do I want her. That is my brother’s wife, and I will only ever regard her as such. But Juliet is like her in many ways, and she seeks a husband as I seek a wife.”

Lydia began to speak but this time Ezra did not permit her the opportunity.

“I am soulless, as they say, Lydia,” Ezra stated, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees, “but I am not dimwitted. If I ever hurt Juliet, Duncan, or Morgan, Ambrose would beat me until my bones were ground into pebbles. Nor would I want to. Many people at many times deserve the infliction of pain, but that path is not for her. She would be kept as safe and content as possible in the ample time she would have to herself, but yes, she would be required to attend events with me, boost my reputation, and be a buffer of purity against my well-established black heart.”

“She cannot marry you, she is in love with someone else,” Lydia burst out in a determined bark, though he noticed her eyes had slid down to his chest as if she could see the actual darkness there.

At this, Ezra felt a brush of pure light upon his blackened, ironclad boundaries. It startled him for a second, catching him off guard, but vanished as quickly as it came, and he quickly collected himself.

“That is unfortunate,” he admitted, “But that is not my concern. Whomsoever the young gentleman is, had his opportunity before I came along. If he did not pursue her correctly that is no fault of mine.”

Lydia balked as if she was unsure how to argue that particular point, so he continued.

“Young love dwindles all the time, especially with distance. In time your sister will adjust to her new life. You, and Alice of course, are always welcome to visit with her, and I believe I would be roasted alive if I attempted to keep Barbara or Helena away. I assure you, I will not hurt her.”

“You are hurting her by taking away her preference,” Lydia replied calmly, regaining her composure. “She is in love with someone else. Let her have her chance and marry someone else.”

“I do not want someone else,” Ezra mused.

It was true. After he had concluded that little Thomas, despite his youth, was quite right about the potential ventures that could open up for him, he had done thorough research and found Juliet to be the best candidate. Or, at least, he had until he’d tried to converse with her today. Admittedly, he found her fear of him to be pitiful instead of amusing, but it was she who could lighten his reputation the most.

“You truly think there is someone better suited than your sister to help me with my goal?” Ezra asked pragmatically. “Let us speak on this seriously, shall we? What other young lady do you know that has absolutely no stain on her civil reputation and has her grace and beauty? What mother do you know that has not raised her daughter to hunt for a husband as a woodsman hunts for his meal?”

“Is that not what you are doing?” Lydia retorted, folding her arms as if daring him to deny it.

He huffed a laugh, yet again amused by her boldness. “But I am a hunter, my lady,” he said darkly, letting his gaze wander to her lips again. “And I have set my sights on my prey.”

Like the hunter he truly was, Ezra noted the subtle shift in Lydia’s body language the moment his words met her ears. The slight dilation of her pupils, the softer, hitched breath that was not quite a gasp as a tremble passed through her. Her back arched and her neck tilted slightly to the left, as if heat had suddenly risen from below. It was subtle but he’d caught wind of it, and it pleased him greatly.

“And…what if a better specimen was to walk into your line of sight?” She asked. Though it was clear she was still a bit intimidated, Lydia took a smooth step toward him. “Would you still pursue your original quarry?”

Ezra felt flames of desire heat his blood as he imagined pursuing Lydia in the forest. Naked and vulnerable.

“If you are insinuating there is a better target then you’d best get to the point,” he spat out, annoyed with how little control he seemed to have over his mind this evening. “Who is this perfect lady of whom you speak?”

Lydia, her gaze still locked on his, answered, “Me.”

“This is no laughing matter, Ezra,” Lydia said desperately, watching the otherwise stoic man start to laugh.

“Are we already speaking one another’s first names?” He quipped. “My, you move fast.”

Her cheeks burned with shame as he continued to laugh at her idea. She had known it was a risk coming to him like this but after hours of thinking it was the only option she could come up with. If her theory was proven correct, which it was, and all he needed was a wife to soften his appearance, then she would do. She was older, yes, and a known spinster, but her reputation of kindness and grace was highly regarded throughout the ton.

Still, she had not expected Ezra to laugh at her. Ezra rarely laughed and seldom reacted to anything, but he was laughing at her now and it stung her more deeply than she wanted to admit.

“If you want to be addressed as a nobleman,” she spat out, “Then act like one.”

“I was merely startled at your suggestion,” Ezra replied, still chuckling, “You are…well, you are a spinster. A well-behaved spinster, yes. Perhaps you will even have some mothers vie for your skills as a governess in the future. Still, you are a noblewoman who has a history of purposefully rejecting marriage. The wives may understand, perhaps even empathize, or feel jealousy about your freedom. But I need a lady who will impress my gentlemen counterparts. I need someone who has not made themselves so clearly…independent.”

Lydia’s mind raced as she tried to minimize her injured feelings and concoct a reasonable argument. What Ezra said was hurtful, yes, but it was the truth, and the freedom of her youth was now costing her the chance to save her sister. Men, especially older men of the ton truly did seem to despise women who did not desire a husband.

“Ezra, please,” Lydia breathed, pushing all her bravado aside as she met his level stare.

“Tell me how to fix this. I cannot let you have my sister. Juliet is…she is not like me or Alice or Helena. She is purer than any of us and she is in love. I cannot…I cannot…”

Lydia lost her words, emotion winning over her, and she felt her throat grow tight as a stinging sensation annoyed her eyes. Feeling the tears start to well up, she looked back down at the floor, defeated. There was no arguing Ezra’s point. What was true was true in English society, and a spinster, no matter how pretty and well-behaved, was still looked down upon.

She did not expect to feel Ezra’s fingers curl under her chin, nor did she expect to feel the jolt of warmth that made her veins hum from his touch. It did not spark or burn but soothed and comforted her wounded pride. When she had touched him in a similar way earlier, it had felt different. Aggressive, but enjoyable, like claiming power. But this felt entirely different. She felt vulnerable. Safe. But with Ezra?

Her mind spun with confusion as Ezra tilted her chin up until she was forced to look into his fathomless, frozen blue eyes, and she shivered at the ice she saw in them. Cold. So cold. But she could not look away. Not even when her mind screamed at her to do so. Those dangerous eyes. No wonder he needed to soften his image. A death stare from him would no doubt prove fatal.

He had become too wild and untamed. The man had let his claws and fangs grow too sharp, and he needed someone gentle and sweet to file them down. Someone who would not betray him in his rare moments of vulnerability.

“You truly wish to take Juliet’s place?” he asked calmly, his deep voice low and curious.

She forced herself to nod and whispered a silent plea to herself to stop trembling. She had been so fierce, so powerful just moments ago; where had that all gone?

“Yes, I do,” she replied evenly, keeping her eyes on him. “No matter the cost.”

Ezra’s eyes unlocked from hers as he pulled back an inch as if to survey her person. He studied her so closely that she realized she’d slipped out of her unladylike seated position, and her spine was arched forward toward him. She tried to correct herself, but Ezra’s grip on her chin tightened, and his eyes snapped back up to hers.

“Even if I ask you to remove your dress and offer yourself to me right now?”

He said the words in such a low, practical manner that Lydia almost didn’t catch them. When she finally did, she felt every muscle in her body grow tight with warning and excitement. She wrenched from his grip, and jumped to her feet, exclaiming “I beg your pardon?”

Ezra smirked as he let go of her chin and an emotion she could not read flittered across his eyes.

“Not at any cost, apparently,” he answered dryly, sitting back.

Lydia’s cheeks flamed, but she was not sure if it was from his words or the way his fingertips still felt branded on her chin.

If she did not give him what he wanted then she just proved his point. If she did do it, not only would she forfeit her modesty, but also risk falling prey to a cruel trick that would leave her and Juliet all the more desperate. It was not uncommon for men to seduce young ladies into early consummation, only to abandon the promise of marriage as soon as the act was over.

“You ask for a price no woman should forfeit,” she replied with venom. “But seeing as you are… you, I should not be so surprised. Perhaps if you were to marry me, I could show you that there are better ways to get what you want.”

Ezra’s eyes lit up at her bold response, but he only continued to study her in that intense, almost invasive way.

“I shall tell you what,” Ezra said finally, rising from his hunkered position to walk back to his drink cart, “Since this has been so entertaining I shall propose a counteroffer. A serious one.”

Though still wary, Lydia perked up immediately, rising to her feet.

“Present your proposal,” she demanded. Ezra looked at her for a moment in his usual calm manner, then obliged.

“I have a list of potential partners that I am trying to secure who are a bit apprehensive about joining me. There is a ball coming up, at which one of these prospective partners will be in attendance with his wife. If you can persuade her to convince her husband that I am more gentleman than devil and accept a meeting with me, I will accept your proposal.”

“Yes,” she agreed, the word flying from her mouth before he even finished his sentence. “Yes, I accept your offer.”

Relief flooded through her, happy that he had not pushed his earlier suggestion further. Still, she did not want to give him any time to bring it back up or change his mind about his offer. She gathered up her cloak from her chair and pulled it over her shoulders.

“Just send me the name of the woman you need me to convince and where she will be,” she requested, her eyes on her trembling hands as she tried to tie the ribbon at her neck.

The trembling stopped the moment Ezra’s hands slid over hers, and Lydia’s breath caught as her eyes darted up to look at him. He appeared as impassive as ever as he moved her hands down, then brought his own back up to securely tie her cloak’s ribbon strings around her neck. His fingers, so steady and gentle, took their time forming the knot and drew it into a perfect bow.

Something warm and delicious unfurled inside of her as his fingers moved from the ribbon to her neck, and she gasped at his touch. She waited, breathless, for him to wrap his hand around her throat and crush it. After all, he was Ezra Fernside, and his pleasure for cruel games was widely known.

But the crushing and the gasping under his ruthless grasp never came. Instead, he reverently stroked along the column of her throat as though fascinated by how she was formed. Her thoughts went blank as his thumb massaged against her pulsing vein and she felt her body sway forward into him. The crackling of the fireplace and other sounds of the room went silent as a throbbing began in her lower belly. It spread with each new beat, rising until it met her ears, and it was all she could hear.

“I like that you did not agree to take your clothes off,” he rasped, his tone no more expressive than usual. “It tells me many things about you.”

Despite the new, pleasurable pulsing in her body, Lydia blushed; feeling conflicted about being pleased at passing his test and furious at being secretly tested in the first place.

“If there are any more tests in the future, Your Grace, I prefer you not trick me into them,” she replied, her voice low and slightly shaky.

At this, Ezra bowed his head toward her.

“Noted,” he replied.

For an instant, when his eyes met hers again, Lydia was certain he was about to kiss her. Then his hand vanished from her throat, and he was suddenly at the door, holding it open for her.

“I shall send you the details of my target first thing in the morning. The event is a ball at the Earl of Leeds Mayfair estate on Thursday evening. See you then.”

His voice was back to its usual lifeless tone and his deadened expression had slipped back into place so perfectly that Lydia wondered if he had ever actually changed it in the first place. Her first footsteps toward the door felt strangely awkward, as though she was not completely in her body, but by the time she’d reached the threshold she had regained her stride and her senses.

The Earl of Leeds ball. Yes. She and Juliet had already confirmed their attendance.

“See you then, Your Grace,” she managed to say in a smooth, unflustered tone.

As she passed him, though, she could have sworn she could once again feel that low, deep throb and nearly stumbled through the door.