Читать книгу A Perfect Scandal - Tina Gabrielle - Страница 15

Two unpleasant visits in one day could turn a focused stockbroker into a bitter businessman. Only this time, as Marcus lifted the brass knocker to bang on the door, a smiling housekeeper greeted him and immediately ushered him inside.

Simone Winston glided down the staircase to greet him. “Marcus, darling. What a wonderful surprise.”

A wealthy widow in her early forties, Simone was twelve years older than Marcus. With a crown of auburn hair, a porcelain complexion, and a voluptuous figure, Simone was sought after as a lover by many males of the beau monde. That she had been having an affair with the dark and dangerous Marcus Hawksley added an air of mystery to her widowed status.

How irrational and ironic was society, Marcus thought, for if a widow entered into a salacious relationship with him, it would enhance her reputation, but if an innocent such as Isabel Cameron was even suspected of being alone in a room with him, it would destroy hers beyond repair.

Dressed in a green silk concoction that set her hair aflame, Simone wrapped slender arms around Marcus’s neck and kissed him full on the mouth. Her familiar expensive perfume enveloped him.

“I’m so glad you came to see me, Marcus. I felt horrible after our argument last week, and I’ve missed you terribly.”

She pressed her full breasts against his chest, but this time, he was slow to respond to her feminine allure.

He pulled back. “It’s good to see you, too, Simone, but there’s something I must tell you.”

“There’s no need to apologize, darling. I understand you have been under pressure at the Stock Exchange, and that you truly did not mean what you had said last week about us never marrying.”

His mouth set in annoyance. “May we talk elsewhere, Simone, other than in the front hall?”

She licked a full bottom lip. “Of course, darling. Let’s go upstairs.” She took his hand and turned.

Marcus didn’t budge. “Your bedroom is not what I had in mind. Perhaps one of the sitting rooms.”

She froze. She appeared stunned that any man would turn down her bedroom. “The sitting room?” Her gaze slid downward, noting his tailored suit. “You’re coming from the Exchange. I don’t understand your obsession with working really. You don’t need to—”

“Not now, Simone.” His tone was impatient and finally gained her full attention.

“How impolite of me. You must need refreshment.” She led him to the first room on the right, a lavishly decorated sitting room for receiving formal guests. She went to a sideboard and made to pour him a drink.

“That’s not necessary. I don’t want a drink. I want to talk.”

She turned, arching a well-plucked eyebrow.

Unsure how to break the news to her, he chose a straightforward approach. “I’m afraid we can no longer see each other. I’m to be married.”

All animation left her face. “Married! To whom?”

“Lady Isabel Cameron.”

“How could you? Not less than one week ago, you stood before me and said you would not marry—me or anyone. We had a terrible fight over it. And now you are telling me you want to end our affair because you are to marry?”

“I’m sorry for misleading you.”

Cold eyes sniped at him. “You’re sorry! What changed your mind?”

“The gossip has been all over London. I’m surprised that you haven’t heard.”

“I’ve been out of town visiting my sister and returned just this morning. What on earth have I missed?”

For the second time that day, Marcus had to explain himself, a task that he did not relish and that he had sworn never to do again since Bridget’s suicide.

At Simone’s thunderous expression, Marcus took a deep breath. In as few words as possible, he explained what had occurred at the Westley auction. He was careful to leave out the bargain he had struck with Isabel to remain married for only six months’ time. No one need know until the art thief was found and Isabel was in Paris with her unconventional Auntie Lil.

At first he had initially contemplated continuing his liaison with Simone while he was married to Isabel, but the idea quickly vanished as it held little appeal. Simone Winston never could keep her mouth shut, and she would talk about her continued relationship with Marcus Hawksley to anyone with an open ear.

An unnerving thought floated into his mind and took root, that after meeting Isabel, Simone’s feminine wiles seemed overtly contrived and jaded.

He mentally shook himself. No, he would not put his marriage to Isabel—sham or not—at risk.

At his staunch silence, Simone’s expression softened from fury to disappointment with the calculated efficiency of a chameleon.

“So you are marrying this girl simply because her testimony makes you feel compelled to do the right thing?” Her full lips formed a pout, and she reached out to stroke his chest, her long fingers playing with the buttons of his waistcoat. “You don’t have to do this, Marcus. Marry me instead.”

“And what of Isabel Cameron?”

“The girl chose her own fate. Your defense is solid now. Let her suffer for her rash behavior.”

Even knowing Simone’s selfish nature, he was struck by her coldness. “No, Simone. I gave my word.”

He turned, but her hand shot out to clutch his arm.

“Then nothing has to change between us. We can continue to be lovers. A man like you needs a real woman beneath him, an experienced lover who knows how to pleasure you. A blue-blooded virgin will never be anything but frigid in your bed.”

An unbidden image of Isabel Cameron surrounded by erotic art flashed through Marcus’s mind. He had held Isabel in his arms, had kissed her, and knew firsthand she was anything but frigid.

His gaze returned to Simone’s upturned face. Marcus knew that where Simone was as well practiced as any courtesan, Isabel would be innocent, yes, but as recklessly impulsive in bed as she was out of it.

But you will never know Isabel Cameron intimately, Marcus thought. You made a bargain not to touch her, no matter how much you desire her.

Marcus shook his head. “Nevertheless, Simone, I’ve come today to tell you of my decision to end our relationship.”

Simone’s face twisted into a cruel mask. “You’ll be back,” she spat, “and you’ll beg me for scraps of affection.”

“No. I won’t, Simone.”

“Get out!”

He was more than happy to oblige her, relieved really. He had never liked female entanglements and was well aware that Simone had wanted to marry. The problem was Marcus had never intended to marry after Bridget.

Life had taught him a cruel, but valuable lesson: People could not be trusted; lovers and family were no exception.

But Marcus did pay his debts. And he owed Isabel Cameron…

If six months together would salvage her family from disgrace and give Isabel the freedom she so desired, then he would do it.

He turned and walked to the door. Unladylike curses spewed from Simone behind him. He glanced back just in time to see Simone pick up an expensive crystal vase and dump the flowers and water onto the thick Aubusson carpet.

Anticipating her intent, he deftly dodged the vase, and it shattered against the wall on his way out.