Her Missing Marquess (Wicked Husbands #5) - Scarlett Scott Page 0,1

cheek. All the agony and betrayal of the last few years unleashed itself in the form of her nails raking his skin. She scratched him so hard, she drew blood.

And still, he did not pause. Nor did he release her.

A thin line trickled from his cheek to his beard. The sign of her own violence appalled her. And yet, she knew it was deserved. How dare he return like this, carting her away from her own party, telling her guests the party was at an end? How dare he return here, to her one sanctuary, the place where he had promised he would not visit?

“You still have claws, I see.” His voice was wry as he shouldered his way into the study and booted the door closed behind them. “Some things do not change, do they, darling?”

“Why are you here?” she demanded as he set her upon her feet at last.

Calmly, he extracted a handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket, pressing it to his cheek. “I am here in answer to your letter, of course.”

“What do you mean you are here in answer to my letter?” She searched his countenance, struggling to understand. The port had fogged her mind. “You gave no indication of a plan to visit here when you wrote.”

His eyes flitted over her, assessing. “This is my country seat, is it not? Why should I not visit after an extended absence?”

Her hands balled into fists at her sides. “Because you agreed you would not, damn you.”

“Ah, yes.” He folded the square of linen neatly and returned it to his pocket, all with an alarming sangfroid that reminded her just how little she truly knew this man, her husband. “I am no longer amenable to our prior arrangement. There will be no divorce.”

Had he delivered a bullet straight to her heart, she could not have been more astonished. All the blood seemed to rush from her head. She was dizzied. The luxurious sense of ease the port had sent coasting through her veins vanished.

“That is impossible.” She clenched her hands in her silken, pink skirts.

This dress, like so many others, was extravagant. She spared no expense on her costuming. Churning herself out in beautiful garments and hosting wild parties were the only bright spots in her life. Until Tom had come along, that was.

“It is very possible.” Needham’s gaze flitted over her gown, lingering on the daring cut of her bodice. “I do not want a divorce.”

She fought the urge to tug her bodice higher, affording her greater coverage. Something about that green gaze traveling over her naked flesh felt sinful. Because for all that had passed between them, and in spite of the time and the physical distance, they had once been lovers. She had not forgotten, though she heartily wished she could.

Instead of covering herself, Nell tugged her bodice down in defiance. Until her nipples nearly popped free. There, let him look his fill and remember what he had lost, the bastard.

“Your letter suggested otherwise,” she told him with a coolness she did not feel.

Showing any vulnerability to the Marquess of Needham was out of the question.

“You forget how well I know you.” He still eyed her calmly, standing between her and the door. “If I had told you my intentions, you would have begun plotting ways to foil me, or you would have run off with your lover.”

She stiffened, her fists clenching into her skirt with such force, her nails bit into her palms. “You lied, then. I suppose I ought not to be surprised. You are, after all, an established dissembler.”

His lips tightened, the sole indication of his displeasure. “I have never once told you a lie, Nell.”

She laughed bitterly. “What rot. Save it for one of your lightskirts. I am not as easily fooled as I once was.”

From beyond the study, the undeniable sound of a man giving chase to a wildly giggling woman ensued.

“Wait until I get you bent over, you naughty little tart,” called the gentleman.

Though she could not be certain, Nell thought the voice in question may belong to the Earl of Wickersham.

Needham raised a mocking brow. “What manner of gathering is this, madam wife?”

“The sort you would enjoy, philandering husband.” She strode toward him then, determined to return to her party and put an end to this unwanted interview. “If you will excuse me, I should like to return to it before my absence is noted. Fear not—if you would like to fuck one of the ladies in attendance this