My Secret Lover

I. Thy Will Be Done

In a land not so far away, there lived a place that lived in the past.

The people there simply called it the Town because its founders never came up with a proper name. They were too much consumed with haste to build it and set the rules in motion. In every convention, in every meeting, they simply referred to it as The Town and it stuck up to this day.

Their rules were their law. And the people of The Town took their law quite seriously. If one would inspect them, they weren't even complicated at all. They were basic laws against crime one could easily find in any other towns.

But what sets The Town aside from the rest?

They refuse the use of anything more advanced than electricity in any way whatsoever and the children of the Town grew up knowing what other towns would call ancient or basic.

Oh, yes, they know about the other towns. They had heard stories. They believed the other towns owned carriages that didn't require a horse at all. They could talk and see one another even when the other person was not in the same vicinity as them. They could do things with the 'tip of their fingers' as what the teachers in the schools of the Town would say. The children thought it was magic.

The adults, on the other hand, saw it as threat. The leaders battled against each other whether or not to form alliances with the other towns, but they would always go back to what the founders believed: the Town was indestructible. In a sense, it was true.

The Town was not really a town. The other towns outside considered it a country, and a very strong one at that. And it spanned almost half of the entire continent in the west. The very few people who knew of the Town's existence would not dare distract the Town. No one dared think of invading it either. Its very presence was a threat to almost all other towns outside because they stood on it.

The Town was their very foundation, built deep underground with its own cities and streets and buildings. They destroy the Town, they fall with it. And everyone left them alone untouched, peaceful as ever, forever living the history that had long been forgotten by the other towns, unknown to the commoners aboveground and alien to the very few powerful who had knowledge of their existence.

The streets of the Town were made of stones, fitted perfectly for carriages to drive by and people to walk on. The houses, though with enough electricity to give light, were always on the side of dim. Businesses thrived. Livestock were kept on the other side of town as well as the farms with their own holes to provide sun to their crops. As a matter of fact, everything from irrigation to waste disposals had been thoroughly planned from the start by the founders themselves. The Town could stand on its own without help from the outside.

The people of the Town were generally content and happy with their lives. It was, after all, the only life they had known. But if there was one thing they would have liked to experience more, it was the sun. Yes, they knew of the sun. They could experience it from time to time and bask in its goodness in the many parks their founders had built. Such parks were built with perfect holes hundreds of feet above the ground, giving them natural light and ventilation. These holes were the only access to the other towns and they were surrounded by tall walls shaped like a funnel so no one from the outside could climb on them and see the Town below. And if ever one could manage to climb to the top, sliding down would be easy though the fall might lead to a sudden death. Climbing out, on the other hand, was impossible. Or everyone believed that to be so.

There were hundreds of such walls and only once had it been trespassed. That was almost a century ago and it never happened again. What became of the trespasser was never disclosed to the public though ideas that ranged from possible to insane circulated that the story soon became a myth and the trespasser was named Mr. Jones. Some stories said that Mr. Jones survived and married a woman from a higher class. Others said he was taken prisoner until he died. There was one that said Mr. Jones was amongst the first founders of the Town.

But Mr. Jones was not the topic to be discussed for one man in particular had made his own legacy in the Town. And he left all of it to none but his one daughter...

*****

I, Ernest Featherton, being of sound mind, write this last will and testament.

I have endured the difficult life I was born to and climbed to the pinnacle of success with only a few notes in my pocket. I should say that I have lived a full life and made more money than I could have imagined. I have married and lost my dear wife, but I was left with the most loving and generous daughter.

My only regret is that I had not thought of the consequences when I chose to never wed again. Mary will have to deal with those consequences, but I am confident that she could face them with a strong heart. She may not know it yet but she is very much like her mother-she is strong and capable.

Therefore I declare that my entire fortune, the houses of Mary and Angel and the coming income that comes with them, be granted to my daughter, Mary Angel Featherton, immediately after my passing. I grant her total control over the Mary House and the Angel House.

Furthermore, if Mary were to wed, her husband will receive nothing but a dowry of ten-thousand townsends. I repeat-nothing but the dowry. I have not worked my arse off to hand over my legacy to some unknown gentleman who could very well be a conniving thief and bastard-in words and actions.

In addition, if Mary sees it fit, she may choose to sell or offer any or all of her fortune to someone if the need arises, which I dearly hope does not come to chance.

In the event that something happens to Mary, and in this case an unfortunate demise, and she leaves no will and testament, the entirety of my fortune shall be passed on to the charity of my choosing.

Mary, dear, may you choose someone to wed as soon as you can and the bastard needs to consent that he will not get anything but the dowry I had set for you. The reason being for my insistence of marriage is that you will have a hound of thieves and greedy bastards from my side of the family who will find great disappointment in this last will and testament.

Choose well, my daughter, and continue my legacy.

I love you, Mary.

Signed,

Ernest Featherton

Witnesses,

Thomas Avery, Bonnie Blake

Solicitors, Avery-Blake Firm

Mary Featherton stared blankly in the air. A fortnight had passed since Thomas Avery and Bonnie Blake read her the last will and testament her father had penned before his passing. By then, it had only been a week since she had stood in her father's burning ritual, clad in black and utter numbness.

And now she was desperate. Her father did not know what he was doing when he left her everything.

He could have left them a measly sum, she thought. But no, Ernest Featherton gave naught to his cousin, Barty Featherton.

Wrong move, papa, wrong move, Mary said in her mind. The pain and loss she could deal with, but the fear that rose due to her father's will nearly pushed her to run away to save her life.

Mary stood and walked to her closet. She stood before the boring old dresses and for a moment hoped that Cressida was there to help her.

The thought that she was utterly alone with no one to help her scared her. She could go after Cressida and live a different life up there.

Choose well, my daughter, and continue my legacy.

Her father's last request rang in her mind. She could never, for the life of her, let his legacy die or passed on to Barty Featherton and his good for nothing son, Collin.

Mary squared her shoulders.

I am the lady who stayed. I shall keep my place in this dratted world or die trying.

She chose a black dress. She was barely out of mourning but desperation called for desperate actions.

She had acquired an invitation to the Macy ball and she would go alone.

She needed not a chaperone but a husband. Fast. And so she dressed and prepared for the ball for Mary Featherton was out to hunt a husband. Fast.

II. Seduction Gone Wrong

Adrien was brooding the entire time. Bloody Macy ball was proving to be a challenge. He ought to hang his brother for not coming. But then, Calan seemed to be dealing some secret problems. Why else would the bastard go to Willowfair without his new wife? Something was wrong somewhere, he knew it.

But no matter, it was not his place to be involved in marital disputes. Was that why he had been avoiding marriage all these years? Yes, bloody hell! Having the reputation of a rake was very much more convenient. But the truth still remained that the mamas and their daughters had set their eyes on him. It was a great disappointment to the ton that his brother, Calan, had married one of the most scandalous women in Willowfair. And now their eyes had diverted to him.

Adrien Haverston may not have a title to his name but he was still an eligible bachelor. And there seemed to be quite a lot of unwed women in the Town.

But he would never allow himself be tied into something that could not be easily revoked. Marriage was for those who were boring and needed heirs. Adrien was not boring and his father was not demanding an heir from him although he would be inheriting the Easton estate when the time came that Calan had to take over Haverston once their father passed. And there was still McKenzie to sire an heir if the need arose. And Calan could breed as many as he wanted with his new wife. Adrien was free!

Another dratted truth remained still though and that was no other than his Aunt Gertrude, sister of Lord Haverston. The woman had made it her mission to marry his two eligible bachelor nephews and since McKenzie was not in town, Adrien was her target.

He had almost begged Calan to go to this dratted ball with him but his brother was adamant that he had more pressing matters to attend to. Their aunt had literally dragged and bribed and threatened him to go to this dratted ball.

The sight of the two black-haired twins, Poppy and Posy Prewitt accompanied by their ever conniving mother, Lady Prewitt, drew Adrien from his musings. Suddenly the great need to escape called unto him and he immediately whirled around to find the nearest hiding place.

His eyes frantically searched the ballroom and found an exit to his right. He dashed toward it casually and disappeared into an empty corridor. He looked over his shoulder and found the three Prewitt women craning their neck in search for him.

Bloody hell, he cursed. He found a door and dashed toward it. It was open. Thank God for having mercy on desperate rakes!

He walked inside the dark library and closed the door behind him.

He needed a drink to pass the time. His aunt would be out looking for him soon and in his experience it was always best to deal with the old woman with spirit running through the veins. He walked to pour himself a brandy from the small liquor cabinet beside the door of the Macy library and let out a contented sigh. He needed a short respite from this horrid ball after all.

*****

Mary Featherton surprised the guests by her appearance. There could be any number of reasons why they were looking at her with horror and judgment in their eyes. For one, her father had just died and she was supposed to be in mourning still. Well, she was, thus the black gown. Another reason was that she was not always invited to such balls. Her being without a title and the daughter of a rich man who owned the two largest gentlemen's clubs in Willowfair were enough reasons. Women had always regarded the Mary and Angel Houses as their enemies. Their husbands and beaus were members and God could only be the witness of what happens in such places. Mary knew, of course, what their husbands and beaus had been doing in the clubs and that was why she was never accepted. No one wanted to be near her for her very presence made them wonder if she had knowledge of their husband's infidelity or gambling debts.

Being a place built hundreds of feet below ground, the Town was not spared of societal issues, Mary had always thought. She believed that the Town was no different from any aboveground as what her friend Cressida might have believed. Yes, they had preserved the past by staying away from the changes aboveground, but they were still a society where wealth and status were more important. Cressida could handle it no longer and so she had found a way to escape. Her husband, Calan Haverston, had helped her. How they managed it Mary could only wonder.

And while Cressida left, Mary chose to stay. And things had gone from mellow and boring to drastic and desperate since Cressida's departure. And now she had no one to go to but herself.

She scanned the ballroom for the person she had in mind to seduce tonight.

"Mary Featherton!" a woman's voice said behind her. Mary stopped her search and turned. The old, elegant woman who stood before her was a stranger but she offered a curtsy. "Ah, young girl, I am sad to know about your father's passing. My condolences."

Mary smiled, tucking the black strand that had strayed out of their clips. She could not find a maid to do it for her earlier. "Thank you..." she threw the old woman an apologetic look.

"Lady Gertrude Haverston."

"Haverston."

The woman nodded. "I am an old spinster, child. I am Lord Haverston's sister. Ah, no bother," Lady Gertrude said with a wave of her hand. "You do not know me. But I do know you. You are friends with my nephew's wife, Cressida Belverst, now Haverston, yes?"

Mary smiled warmly. "Yes."

"Do not be afraid that I know too much, dear. I merely happen to have a lot of time," Lady Gertrude explained. "Now, why the bloody hell are you here?"

Mary blinked, stunned by the woman's choice of language. "I...well, I am-"

"You should be in mourning," Lady Gertrude said in whisper. "But I do understand your need to find entertainment after your loss. Now, how do you plan to spend this evening? Have you brought a companion with you?"

"Yes," she lied. "Which is why I am trying to find her. If you will excuse me-"

"No, not yet, child. I wish to introduce you to my nephew. Come, let us find him."

"But I believe Lord Calan is not here and-"

Aghast, Lady Gertrude stared at her. "Whatever made you think I was talking about Calan? I meant Adrien."

Adrien Haverston, Mary thought. The rake. For a moment she considered it-him-and mentally cringed at the thought. No, Adrien Haverston was not fit for her goals. He was too untamed and too rakish to be her husband.

"I am sorry, Lady Gertrude, but I have promised my companion I will be gone only for a short while. Maybe later?" she asked, crossing the fingers hidden behind her gown.

Lady Gertrude sighed. "Very well, then. I will need to find Adrien first anyway. Where is that dratted child?" Mary breathed a sigh of relief when the lady turned away, talking about her nephew to herself.

Once more, Adrien Haverston crossed his mind. The handsome rake who had been running around the Town chasing skirts. Of course, she of him. He was a member of the Mary House. She had heard him speak of women during card games behind the thin walls that separated the gaming room from the private corridors of the club. She could very well picture his handsome face in her mind, the way his dark hair would move when he would laugh at a rather bad joke, the way his blue eyes would crinkle when-

She shook her head. No, definitely no. Adrien Haverston was a rake and he would prove to be more of a bigger problem than the one she was facing now.

Her target was someone else entirely different. He was honorable and by far the only member of the Mary House who had spoken to her like a gentleman.

Lord Jonathan Preston.

He was perfect. Not too handsome but not bad to the eyes either. Cressida had once made a comment on his oily face but Mary thought she could deal with that. She was not very much pretty herself to demand for someone with great looks as Adrien Haverston or his brothers. No, she was plain and she stooped and she did not have to find anyone better than Lord Jonathan Preston.

She could easily seduce him and force him to marry her. She would have chosen a less aggressive move if she had the time, but she didn't. Jonathan Preston was honorable enough and he would marry her.

But it seemed as though he did not come and that brought a frown on her face. She had learned from someone in the Mary House that he was planning to attend the Macy ball. She hated that her rather bold threat to Lord Macy yesterday during his visit in the Mary House to acquire an invitation to this ball would go to waste.

She walked around the ballroom, ignoring the disparaging glances, and focused her eyes on finding her future husband.

And then she saw him. It was definitely him. It was his blond hair, his height and built. There was no question in that. But he was walking out of the ballroom into an empty corridor.

Perfect.

Mary casually-and rapidly-made her way to the corridor. She stuck her head out and saw Preston enter through a door. She was about to follow when she saw a familiar figure come toward her and she groaned.

"Mary! Whatever are you doing here?" Lady Belinda Carrington asked with a frown. Her two friends, Posy and Popsy were standing behind her as always ever since Mary had known them. The three girls, two with black hair and one red, were frowning at her, judgment in their eyes.

Bugger. She had better to get rid of them fast or Preston would disappear again.

*****

The door to the library opened and suddenly his privacy flew out the window. A familiar figure slowly came near him.

"Preston," Adrien said dryly. "I would appreciate if you find another place. I was immensely enjoying my privacy."

"Did Calan come with you?" Preston asked, ignoring his comment.

Adrien rolled his eyes. Finally. Someone was asking him about something other than a wedding proposal. "No. He had some pressing matters to attend to. His very words."

Annoyance crossed Preston's oily face. "I came hoping he was here."

"Well, he is not."

Preston gave a curt nod. "Very well. I shall leave you in peace then."

"You have my complete gratitude," he said with an exaggerated bow.

Preston turned and left the library. Adrien was aware that Preston was a member of the League of Founders and him looking for Calan meant his brother was working on a case. It was moments like this when he was running away from the mamas and their daughters that Adrien wished he had not left the League those years ago.

Adrien swallowed the remaining drink from his glass. He leaned his head back on the back of the winged chair and closed his eyes and thought of nothing.

The door opened once more and he groaned. "I was really, honestly, hoping to get a moment of privacy," he said without opening his eyes.

"You were?" a soft, very-much-female voice said from the door and Adrien's eyes flew open. He straightened in his chair, alert. Some chit had found him and trapped him. He ought to leave before anyone saw them.

But the chit was walking toward him and he could not move. She was almost a shadow in the darkness of the library. He ought to get up and leave but he found himself mesmerized by the way she was walking toward him-gentle and graceful. She was not the voluptuous type. She was slender, almost thin-just how he liked his women.

And she smelled wonderful. Not the strong perfumes the women showered themselves with. No, she smelled of fresh, woman scent with a hint of rose. And it reached his nose and he had to inhale some more.

He bloody ought to go, he thought. But she was walking boldly toward him, her movement full of intent. Maybe she was here to play. Maybe he ought to play with her.

There was naught but a very faint light from the light outside the window of the library so he could not entirely see her face. But he was certain she was wearing black and her hair was of the same color. Her skin was not as pale as that of the many ladies in the Town. No, they appeared to glow in the faint light that shone on the lower part of her body. Her face was still hidden in the shadows. One more step and he would finally see her face. One more-

But she suddenly stopped. She stiffened and then backed away. Adrien frowned. What was the matter?

"I am sorry," she said under her breath. "I mistook you for someone else."

And then she began to turn away and Adrien found himself jumping to his feet to go after her. He managed to grab her arm before she reached the door and whirled her around to face him. The brandy had made the adventurous side of him come out, the one that wanted the thrill. And her skin, God, the mere touch of her skin in his hand made all thoughts of logic fly out the window. She was not wearing gloves and he freely slid his hand down to wrap around her wrist.

"Who did you think I was?" he asked above her.

She turned her head to the side. He could not see her face in the darkness but he saw a hint of long, thick lashes. "No one. Please, my lord, release my arm. I ought to go."

Adrien shook his head. "Oh, no, my lady, you are not going anywhere."

She stiffened. "Let me go, please."

Adrien bent his head down and took a lungful of her scent. His groin suddenly jerked to life. He wanted more. Ah, bloody hell. He wanted this woman.

"You came for your lover, didn't you?"

"No," she denied. And after a short pause she added, "I meant to turn one into one."

Adrien chuckled. "And you were disappointed that you found me instead?"

She shook her head and caught herself. She nodded. "Yes. Greatly so."

"Liar," he whispered, leaning lower so his nose touched her ear. He slid his hand up to her upper arm once more, reveling at its silky smoothness. "Would you change your mind and reconsider your choice?"

He heard her gulp. "No. I only planned on taking one lover, thank you."

"But I am a willing victim, my lady," he urged, craning his neck to search for her lips.

She stepped back and he followed until she was pressed hard on the door with nowhere to run. She had walked intending to trap someone and now she found herself trapped. He really ought to teach these ladies some lessons, he thought.

"Nowhere to run," he teased. She tried to pull away from him but he held her fast by her waist. Her hands went to his arms and pushed but he was bigger and stronger. "Just one kiss. You might like it," he whispered, nuzzling her nose with his.

"No. This is a mistake and-"

Adrien did not let her finish for he had grown impatient. His mouth captured hers and swallowed the gasp of surprise that escaped her lips. She tried to push him away once more but he pressed her harder against him, his mouth urging hers to surrender, to give in and enjoy this little adventure.

He almost jumped in triumph when he felt her resistance waver and her lips softened against his insistent tugging. He nibbled on her lower lip and gave it a gentle tug with his teeth. A sigh escaped her mouth and Adrien groaned. He pushed her back to the door and pinned her hips with his as his hands began to slowly discover every inch of her. He urged her mouth to open for his tongue and when she did he dove inside, eager to taste her. And she tasted far better than he had thought. She was heaven. Soft and warm and...innocent? But that couldn't be. She had come in here to meet a man. Surely no innocent would dare do such thing.

Yet the way her tongue hesitated to dance with his, the way her hands reluctantly traveled over his arms to his shoulder and finally his hair, told Adrien that she was a bloody innocent. Yet when her hands came down from his head to open his waistcoat contradicted his thoughts. Bloody hell, innocent or not, she was a willing one, he told himself.

It was too late to stop now. He had a taste of this lady in black and he would bloody hell take more. His hands came forward to cover her breasts above her gown. She purred against his mouth. He needed to feel more.

And he had to do it fast for that one part of his anatomy was not going to wait any longer.

His hands went behind her to loosen her stays, causing her to arch toward him, pressing her breasts against his chest. Adrien groaned in her mouth. He tore his lips from hers and traveled it down to her neck where he sucked on her racing pulse, drawing another gasp from her.

When her stays were finally loose, Adrien tugged her bodice down to reveal one breast. A moan of half-protest, half-wanting erupted from her throat as Adrien bent down to close his mouth over the peak.

"Please..."

"Don't worry, my lady, we are getting there," he whispered against her skin.

"No...please...please stop," she choked.

No, he could not. Not when he was bloody hard and she was bloody here-he groaned and straightened to full height, his breathing heavy. He buried his face in her neck, feeling her bare breast pressed against his chest. It took his entire control not to bend down and take her into his mouth again. He lifted his head and found her mouth in the darkness, pressed his hips against her, making her feel his great need, trying to urge her to say yes. His hand covered her bare breast and kneaded. Just say yes, he silently prayed.

"Please," she whispered against his lips. "Stop."

Adrien tore his mouth and his entire body away from her and turned, his jaw tight and hands clenched in control. "Go," he ordered. "Go now before I change my mind."

He did not even know her name yet he ravaged her as though he had not been with a woman in months. He had not even seen her face yet he had kissed her senseless. He heard the rustling of her dress as she tried to fix her dress and he remembered that he had loosed her stays.

Ah, bloody, bloody hell! She would require help after all.

He started to turn and found that she was having the exact problem he had thought.

"Let me," he offered, taking a step closer.

She frantically stepped back, shaking her head. The word 'no' was barely out of her mouth when she stumbled into the skirts of her gown and she fell backward. Adrien moved forward to catch her. She tried to save the fall by shifting her weight to the side, her hand desperately grabbing on to the edge of the liquor cabinet to her right.

"No!" Adrien cried just in time to catch her. He grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her toward him before she fell to the floor. And then the sound came. His heart stopped as the the bottles and glasses from the liquor cabinet swung forward and backward from where they were standing. Holding his breath and feeling helpless all of a sudden, Adrien willed them to stop and stay still but it was too late and most, if not all, fell to the floor in a loud, resounding series of clashes.

The lady in his arms gasped in surprise. Adrien stood frozen.

And the door burst open and five or more pair of frantic eyes saw them.

Wrapped in each other's arms.

Her bodice loose.

His waistcoat open.

His hair rumpled.

Her hair bedraggled.

The light from the corridor had burst inside the room and when Adrien finally tore his eyes away from the eyes crowding the doorway, he took the chance to glimpse at the woman who could very well have ruined the rest of his life.

His eyes widened in surprise when he finally saw the wide-eyed wanton in his arms.

Bloody Mary Featherton!

III. One Rake Down

"You know what you shall do," Lady Gertrude pointedly told Adrien.

Mary flinched when he shot to his feet and cried out, "Nothing bloody happened!"

"That is not what those people outside think now, dear boy," Lady Gertrude said rather too calmly, pointing her elegant finger at the closed door of the library. "If I cannot make you marry Mary, then by God, your father will!"

Mary remained silent, her head bent, her fingers twisting restlessly over her lap. What had she done? How the bloody hell did this happen? Yes, she had planned on seducing someone and to compromise herself, but it turned out not exactly as she had hoped it would be!

First, she had caused a very big scandal. The people who had seen them must now have repeated the scene they witnessed with a few juicy false details for exaggeration. She was ruined. Completely and utterly so. Barty and Collin Featherton could very well start preparing for a party of celebration.

Second, she was caught on a scandal with the wrong man. But Preston had entered the room! She saw him! But she was stopped by Belinda and her friends. He must have somehow slipped out of the room while she was trying to get away from the ladies' unwanted conversation.

Third, she had let herself get carried away. It should not have happened. She should have run out the door the moment she recognized Adrien Haverston. But what did she do? She'd let herself be ravaged by the rake himself!

Lady Gertrude was saying something and Mary forced herself to listen. "You have to marry Mary!"

"But I don't wish to be wed! Not to anyone, not at all!"

Mary started to agree but Lady Gertrude was not done. "You have ruined her for any other men, Adrien. We all know that her reputation is not one anyone would gladly take but now you have completely-utterly-ruined her for good!"

"I liked my reputation as it was," she found herself saying for she took offense from Lady Gertrude's words. Adrien shot her a sharp look and she immediately looked away. He was angry. Very much so.

"My dear, do you wish to live your life a spinster? No, I don't believe so! You have just lost your father and now this?!" Mary flinched at the reminder of her father's death. Lady Gertrude did not wait for a reply. She turned to Adrien. "You will marry her as soon as we can set a date."

Adrien's face tightened. Now with the lights on, Mary could see his handsome face flush with anger. Gone was the playful rake from earlier.

"Lady Gertrude," she was saying but Adrien's voice stopped her words in her throat for he said, "Alright."

It took a long moment before Mary understood his words. Did he say alright?

"Good! Let me tell the guests that a wedding is to follow! We do not want your names on the Herald by the morrow. If they ought to be, it shall be about a wedding announcement!" Lady Gertrude was gone in a flash to relay the news to the guests who must by now be wondering what was happening inside the closed doors of the library.

Mary was suddenly anxious. Her eyes landed on pieces of glass that were still scattered on the wooden floors.

"We do not have wed and-" she started but Adrien stopped her words by whirling around to face her.

His eyes glared at her, blue fire. "You have planned this. Do not, for one second, think that I will believe you did not do so."

Anger surged up inside her. "I did not plan this at all, my lord!" She was not even certain if she ought to address him as 'my lord' but he had been addressed as such for as long as she could remember. Maybe because he'd be inheriting the Easton estate once Calan Haverston took over Haverston.

"Ah, you did not? You did not deliberately come in here without locking the door? Any sensible chit would have stepped away by the sight of a man in a darkened room!"

"I thought you were someone else!"

"And you expect me to believe that horrible lie? You should have flown out the door when you realized I was not-"

"I did try to get away!" she interjected hotly.

His face reddened further. He was aware that he was at fault here as well. If he did not stop her, this would not have happened!

"You knew I would have taken advantage," he insisted.

Mary was horrified. The gall of the man! "My lord! You very well know I did-"

"You came in here with all intent to seduce me! I would not be surprised if you had planned this with my aunt." He whirled around and started for the door. She stared after him, her mouth dropping open. He stopped at the door and looked over his shoulder at her. "I will marry you, Mary Featherton, but my name is all you will ever get from me. You have just made the worst blunder of your life."

Mary's eyes filled with tears as the door closed behind her, separating her from the rest of them all, alone and feeling utterly vulnerable.

Oh, God, I caught myself the wrong husband.

*****

Adrien left the ball in fury. He managed to avoid the half-hearted and nearly sorrowful felicitations from the guests when he made his way out of the Macy estate.

Bloody, bloody fool! He cursed at himself.

He had let himself be trapped and now he was doomed!

Mary Featherton. Who would have thought the chit was capable of such wicked plan to seduce him?

He knew of her, of course. He had been a member of the Mary House for years and he had seen glimpses of her in some occasions he was there. She would always be holding a book as she turned into one of the private corners of the club. He had always thought her a quiet and reserved woman in a very chaotic club.

It was foolish now to think that he had once admired how she faced the ton's condemnation of her and her father's business. She was similar to every other greedy chit out there after all, he angrily concluded.

He wanted to blame everyone for his misfortune so he stormed right into his brother's chamber when he reached Oakham Manor.

Calan jerked awake as Adrien sent the door crashing against the wall. He strode inside, intending to berate his brother but then the panic had set in and he burst out, "You should have come with me last night. You should have-bloody hell, what do I do, Calan?"

Calan stared at him with heavy eyes and asked, "What the bloody hell are you talking about, Adrien?"

He roughly wiped his hands on his face as though he was trying to convince himself that he was awake. God, have mercy on rakes for this one bloody moment and wake me up! Make this a dream! "I can't believe this is happening to me," he groaned in his hands.

"What is it?" Calan's lazy voice asked. His brother had gotten used to his pointless and stupid fits in the past that this was not new to him. But this was bloody different! This was no longer a matter of measly gambling loss or a stupid duel with an angry brother or husband.

He addressed his brother's question instead for he was suddenly feeling helpless. "I am bloody getting married."

Calan rolled his head in a pillow. "I don't appreciate your games at this time of day, Adrien, so-"

"I am bloody serious!"

"Uh-huh..."

"Aunt Gertrude and that chit had set me into a trap!"

"I can believe Aunt Gertrude doing just that, but who is the chit?"

Anger rose in his throat once more. "Bloody Mary Featherton!" he shouted at his brother. "I am bloody marrying Mary Featherton!"

"Mary? What did you do to her?"

"What did she do to me should be the bloody question!" he cried out, satisfied now that he had gotten Calan's full attention. He relayed the general details of what had transpired in the Macy ball. When he was finished, he rubbed his face with his palm once more. "What should I do, Calan?"

"This is your problem. You deal with it," his brother simply answered.

"Can I challenge someone in a duel?"

"No one will stand for Mary," his brother answered dryly. "She is quite literally alone."

That stopped him for a moment. She had no one? Yes, of course. Her father had just died. She was in a mourning gown. Had her father's death turned her into a crazy, desperate woman? Maybe he could still get out of this marriage after all. She had told him herself that she thought he was someone else. Maybe she would reconsider? Surely she would not wish to be wed to someone like him!

Ah, but I have given my word, he thought with disdain.

"Have you tried talking to her?" Calan asked, breaking the silence.

"It was not what I would call a talk for we nearly shouted all throughout," he admitted.

"What do you plan to do? I am sure if you really do not wish to marry her, something could be done."

Adrien groaned and turned toward the door. "I need to think. I bloody need to think and I bloody need a drink! Crawley! Send me the best brandy at once!"

*****

Mary wanted to go to someone for help but who? Cressida was no longer in the Town. Her father was dead. She had no other friends. Her maids would only talk. She really had no one.

She came home to Mary House where she had been keeping residence with her father ever since her mother had died.

Why did her perfect plan turn out a nightmare? She asked herself as she stumbled in the darkness of her bedchamber. She locked the door behind her and leaned against it. Her tears fell from her eyes and she closed them.

Papa, you're wrong. I am not strong enough, she silently cried.

She stripped herself of her gown, the one Lady Gertrude had helped put in order the moment she was found with Adrien Haverston in that library.

She had never felt the need to escape and hide until now. Her reputation may not have been perfect but she had taken pride in it.

Her hands began to shake once more. Giving up on the gown, Mary fell into her bed, bodice and skirts in one. Burying her face in the pillow, Mary cried herself to sleep. She'd cry for tonight for later was another day. And later she would think clearly. She would dress and have tea and think.

Now she only ought to cry.

*****

Adrien woke up and found himself wanting to go back to sleep.

It had not been a dream.

He was still living the nightmare. The end of his bachelorhood had finally come.

But it didn't have to end, he thought with determination.

Yes, right. Who had said that a wedding had to happen? He only ought to talk to Mary Featherton and convince her that marriage to him would not only be horrible but very unimaginable.

Without sparing another thought on logic or social norms, Adrien jumped out of bed and quickly dressed. Once done, he called for his carriage to be drawn out front. Calan was eating in the dining room when he rushed by.

"Where are you going at this time of day?" his brother demanded.

"I shall bribe my bride," he muttered under his breath in answer, certain that Calan did not hear.

His climbed inside his carriage and ordered to be driven to Mary House. He smiled to himself. Mary Featherton would not say no. If she was telling the truth, he was not even the man she wanted!

Ah, but she had answered to his touch like he was the only man in the world. She had kissed him as hungrily as he did. Her body responded to his touch like a-

Adrien groaned. Bloody hell. He ought to forget about how she felt in his hands or how her mouth tasted like. He would never wed.

Never.

The door to the club was still closed and he had to knock hard before someone answered.

"Timothy," he said to the butler. "Call your mistress now for I have an urgent matter to discuss with her."

"Mistress?"

"Miss Mary Featherton! Who else?" he impatiently cried, stepping inside the club.

"But Miss Featherton is still as-"

"I don't bloody care. Wake her up and tell her I have come. And trust me, Timmy, she will come down. I will be in the west parlor," he said without another glance at the confused butler.

He strode alone the corridors and hallways of the Mary House, having memorized every known nook and corner except the private passages and corridors that were only available to the servants and the owner, formerly Ernest Featherton and now Mary Featherton.

He found a comfortable chair in the west parlor which was a small room filled with books and a small table and lounge chairs. There were only a few people who used the room, most of them gentlemen who wished to discuss matters in private.

He waited impatiently for Mary to come down and when she did, the door burst open and his eyes widened in surprise. She was dressed in naught but her night dress and a robe she hugged over herself. Her stark black hair was down and for the first time he realized how beautiful Mary Angel Featherton really was.

Her eyes were brown yet they were almost gold in the strong light of the parlor. Her cheeks had a natural flush in them not very common among ladies in the Town. Her lashes were thick and she still smelled the same as last night.

Suddenly he remembered how she had felt in his arms and tasted in his lips. If he had known she looked like this, he might have definitely gone too far.

"Timmy had said that you demanded for my presence," her gentle, soft voice said, drawing him back to the present. As he studied her face further, she appeared to have spent the time between now and the ball crying.

Bloody hell. He hated tears. "Are you not going to change?" he snapped with irritation.

"My butler was quite adamant that you were demanding for my immediate presence. What do you want?" she asked.

"I do not wish to wed," he said without hesitation.

She blinked and the sight of her standing in the middle of the west parlor, clad in white robe, hugging her slender figure with a slight stoop, her eyes quite swollen from crying, almost made Adrien take back his words.

She is quite literally alone.

His brother's words rang in his mind again. No, he could not sacrifice both their future simply because he felt a pang of pity toward the woman.

"If you need money, I can give it to you," he added with a straight face.

Mary Featherton frowned. "I do not need money."

He felt himself flush. Bloody hell. She had just inherited a large fortune. Of course she didn't need money.

"Nothing happened. We can still find a way to get out of this," he tried once more.

"No."

He stiffened, then blinked. "What did you say?"

Mary Featherton hugged herself even tighter as her golden brown eyes met his blue gaze. "No. I am not letting you get away from this marriage."