To Tempt the Devil Pt. 01

“Faith. Turn around. Look at me.” When she still did not comply, he took her by the arm, and slowly, methodically, dragged her out of the ballroom. Realising that kicking and screaming would only cause a scandal, she followed him meekly, hoping that no one had noticed.

They had, of course. The moment the Marquess of Silverstone had walked through the door, the ton had done nothing but stare. His attendance at an event such as this was a rarity. Lady Chadwell was delighted, of course - now she would be able to boast to all her friends that The Marquess of Silverstone had attended her ball - hers and had all treated them to a display of domestic dominion. For that was evidently what it was, a fiance teaching his erstwhile bride a lesson. The matrons all smiled indulgently while he led her off, no doubt to castigate her for her impudence in writing that notice in the paper today. It had been difficult, of course, to believe that anyone would reject Silverstone - scandalous rake he might be, but he was one of the most eligible bachelors of the ton. He chose not to frequent the ton by choice, not by neccessity. Any hostess would have been overjoyed to have him in her ballroom, and he knew it. No, it was surely simply a lover’s quarrel...and if it so happened that the Marquess and Countess had never before been seen in public together, well that was simply a matter for conjecture.

The moment they were out on the terrace and out of the way of prying eyes and ears, Faith wrenched herself free.

Vardon stared at her. “What the devil is going on?” he demanded. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

“There is nothing to discuss,” she said coldly.

“Nothing to -” he growled with frustration, yanked her to him and kissed her. His tongue slipped into her mouth, tangled with her own. After breathless moments, he released her. “Now tell me we have nothing to discuss.”

“We don’t,” she insisted, less confident now. “What happened was a mistake. It should never have happened. It won’t happen again. That is all there is to it.”

“A mistake?” he demanded, incredulous. “A mistake? Well it is certainly one that you made with a great deal of eagerness...four times, as I recall. I believe you even begged, once.”

She flushed scarlett. “That is not the point.”

“Yes, it is,” he retorted. “What about your reputation? As I recall, we were seen. You were half naked and panting in my lap. Not to mention the fact that I had my hand up your skirt.”

“That was your brother,” she retorted.

He stiffened. How had she known? Then he realised that Justin probably frequented the same society events that she did - she would have met him at some point. All the same, it was a matter of principle. The words sounded good in his head, so he said them out loud. “Its a matter of principle,” he announced, somewhat stiffly. Hmm. It hadn’t sounded half as good as when he’d merely thought it.

“What principle?” Faith scoffed. “I wasn’t aware that you actually had any.”

“I do when it comes to this,” Vardon said grimly. “I’m afraid I must insist, my dear. Its a matter of your honour and my integrity, here.”

“I do not care about your honour,” Faith declared. “Or my integrity. Or is it the other way around? In any case, I do not care. Now go away, please.” She turned her back on him.

“No, Faith. I’m not going to go away. Don’t you remember what you said, about taking the easy way out? You’re the one acting cowardly now, Faith. You’re running, are you not? What from?” his tone softened. “Am I so undesirable a husband, then, that you will not have me no matter what?”

There was a silence. Then she spoke.“Once,” she said musingly, “When I was very little, you and I met.”

He frowned. “When? I do not recall this.”

“No - No, I don’t suppose you do. I had a dog - his name was Theo. Do you remember?”

“No.”

“Well, you killed him.”

So saying, she began to walk away. He sprang after her, grabbed her arm. “So this is what its about? I killed your dog? THAT’s why you won’t marry me?”

She thought about it for a moment. “Yes. Among other things. If you think about it for a while, Vardon, I am sure you will understand.”

“No, I don’t damn you.” He hesitated for a moment then grabbed her hips, bringing her body against his and kissed her. It seemed he poured all his rage, his frustration into that kiss. His mouth ground against hers brutally, his teeth biting at her lips, nipping at her tongue, his tongue ravaging and plundering her mouth. She didn’t complain, but set, instead, on hurting him as much as he was hurting her.

A voice disturbed them. It was a woman’s, calling for him. With a curse, he tore himself away and composed his features, swivelling to meet Anne as she approached.

The Baroness ran an appraising eye over Faith’s crushed dress, her swollen, red lips, and did not miss the fact that Vardon’s mouth was not much less swollen.

“Darling, where have you been? Oh, hello, Faith,” said the Baroness sweetly. She tisked. “You’ve been very bad, Vardon, trysting with Miss Faith out here all this time. Why, she might be ruined!” Evidently thinking herself a great wit, the baronness tittered, then took Vardon’s arm. “Come, darling. I believe there’s a card room in there somewhere. Shall we go?”

“No,” said Vardon. “By the way, I believe her correct form of address is Lady.”

Anne’s eyes widened. “What?” she sputtered.

“I said, Faith’s correct form of address is Lady.”

Pouting, said carelessly, “Oh, yes, I remember now. Lady something or other - oh yes. De Courte, wasn’t it? That’s right. Lady de Courte. So sorry.”

Vardon’s eyes narrowed, and fixed on Faith.

She fled.

To be continued...