At the Pleasure of the Marquess : Shadows and Silk Book 5 by Sofie Darling

Author:Sofie Darling [Darling, Sofie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical
ISBN: 9781954527003
Publisher: Love Ink Books, LLC
Published: 2021-04-27T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

“I take it that was a spoil of war?” Hortense stood at the foot of Apsley House’s grand spiral staircase, transfixed by the nude statue of Napoleon styled as a Roman god holding a golden orb.

“Ah, yes, Mars the Peacemaker,” said Clare, lightness in his voice, even if his impassive expression gave nothing away. “Along with the Battle of Waterloo, one of Napoleon’s more questionable decisions. Prinny purchased it from the French government and presented it to Wellington about a decade ago. One could hardly refuse such a gift.”

“It does make a statement.” She was relieved to be sharing this small bit of drollery with Clare. Ever since his mouth had touched hers two hours ago, she’d felt shy of him. That kiss… It had lasted no more than a handful of seconds, but her lips still tingled.

In a daze, she’d signed the marriage register, and they’d personally delivered it to the Bishop of London on their way to Apsley House. Clare had insisted.

Which made it official: she was a marchioness, an outcome she couldn’t have predicted given a dozen lifetimes. In her finery and jewels, people deferred to her, bowed to her, and it was unsettling. This outrageous statue served as the release her jangly nerves needed.

“Shall I show you to the striped drawing room?” came the butler’s polite tones.

Clare nodded and held out his arm. “Shall we?”

She placed her left hand on his forearm—a forearm whose tensile, masculine feel was becoming all too familiar. The ostentatious sapphire on her fourth finger winked up at her. With that stone and this dress, to all outward appearances, she was one of them, a nob.

Over the years, she’d done near anything to achieve her objectives. Lie. Cheat. Steal. Extort. Blackmail. She hadn’t been above any of it if she believed her cause just. But to marry a man?

Her eye caught on his right hand. She’d never seen him wear his signet ring, but he was tonight, which made sense. It was an object central to who he was—a lord, a marquess. He likely didn’t see it so due to the loathing he bore his father, but it was true.

And she would treat him no better than anyone else she had stolen from, or would steal from in the future, and take it.

Once a eel, always a eel.

Yet she’d never gone this far.

Which begged the question: why this far with this man? Or…

Was this man why she’d gone this far?

The question rattled her to her bones, for she rather suspected the answer lay within the question itself.

With each step they ascended toward the next floor, the volume of the party grew louder and more dense, the buzz of conversation intensifying, serious tones mixing with the light and happy. It sounded as if all of London Society was here.

For her new husband, this house and gathering would be somewhat commonplace, boring even. At least, that was what his expression communicated. It wasn’t lost on her that the circumstances of this job had entirely flipped on its head.

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