Never Marry a Marquess

by Regina Scott

  He was the one lacking.

  He was not one to make impassioned speeches before the House of Lords, to exhort his tenants to harder work. He was known for his polished demeanor, his quiet nature. Those traits may have conspired to make some question the capacity of his mind or the loyalty of his character. Both Sir Alex and Mrs. Bateman had assumed he’d believe the woman’s tale that Ivy was some kind of schemer, that he couldn’t see the gem he had married. Worse, they didn’t realize he would protect his family. They must consider him a coward.

  He could not argue there.

  He was ready to face his own cowardice. He’d called it guilt; he’d called it love. He’d prided himself on protecting Sophia. Ivy had made him see his protection as overbearing control, a way to silence the fear inside him. The truth of the matter was that he had been so afraid of betraying his first wife he had nearly failed his second. That was inexcusable, and it ended now.

  He loved Ivy. And she was right, as she so often was. Loving her did not mean he loved Adelaide and Sophia less. Thanks to Ivy’s love, his heart had grown large enough for more.

  His Grace the Duke of Wey had reminded him that happiness did not have to go to the grave. Kendall could believe that now. He wanted to be able to stand before his father, his mother, Adelaide, and God and tell them that he had continued to love.

  A wonderful, amazing woman who was more than he would ever deserve.

  Unlike Sir Alexander, he refused to allow his protection to erode into control.

  Behind him, he heard the rustle of skirts. Turning, he found Mrs. Sheppard in the doorway. She dipped a curtsey. “My lord. You had need of me?”

  “I do,” he said, motioning her into the room. “You will have heard that I will be traveling to London this afternoon. I plan to return by mid-afternoon tomorrow.”

  She inclined her head. “Very good, my lord.”

  “I have two requests for dinner tomorrow night.”

  She nodded, waiting, but he could not miss the glint of curiosity in her eyes.

  “First, I wish to dine alone with Lady Kendall in the pavement room. Travis may serve, but he is to withdraw immediately after each course.”

  If she found the request surprising, she was too well trained to show it. “I’ll have the staff begin moving furniture immediately. And the second request?”

  She would likely think him mad. He wasn’t entirely sure she was wrong. But Ivy had done everything to make this house a home, to love Sophia and him, asking nothing in return until today. Then she had asked only what was her due. She wanted to be his wife.

  The fact humbled and exalted him. He had to find a way to show her he cared, that he understood her needs, that he would make her his equal partner from this day forward.

  He met Mrs. Sheppard’s gaze. “Teach me to bake biscuits.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “And so we have a full complement for our wedding,” Meredith concluded, setting down her list but keeping a hand on the parchment in her lap lest Fortune decided to attack it.

  “Excellent,” Julian said. He straightened one arm along the back of the sofa and rested it on Meredith’s shoulder. “What remains to be done?”

  She pulled her list closer again as a grey head appeared over the seat of the sofa, copper-colored eyes wide in their scrutiny. “Surprisingly little. The Earl of Carrolton insisted on furnishing flowers, the Marquess of Kendall’s baker is creating the sweets for the breakfast afterward, Lydia and Charlotte helped me choose a gown, and Patience and Gussie are bringing a special perfume.”

  “Let me guess,” he said with a tweak of the silk at her shoulder. “Lavender.”

  Meredith smiled. “Of course.” Glancing up, she met his gaze and felt herself slipping into the depths. Julian leaned forward and brushed her lips with his. She felt as if he touched her heart as softly.

  Something whipped past her skirts even as she heard Mr. Cowls clearing his throat. Julian straightened away from her, giving her a clear view to the doorway.

  Where Lord Kendall waited, polite face turning pink, as Fortune wound around his boots in greeting.

  “The Marquess of Kendall, madam,” her butler intoned.

  “Forgive the interruption,” her visitor said, hesitating in the doorway. “I had hoped to ask you for Mr. Mayes’s direction. As usual, you and Fortune anticipate my needs.”

  Fortune rubbed her head against his boot as if proud of the fact.

  “You are always welcome, Lord Kendall,” Meredith assured him. “Won’t you join us?”

  He paused only a moment more before coming into the room and taking a seat on the chair opposite them. Fortune hurried to follow. He took one look at the cat and jiggled his leg just the slightest, setting the tassel on his boot to swinging. Fortune crouched, watching.

  “You were looking for me?” Julian ventured, both arms now at his sides, leaving Meredith feeling a bit empty.

  Lord Kendall’s leg stilled, and Fortune gathered her haunches under her. “I would like you to consider accepting me as a client.”

  That would be a coup. Besides His Grace the Duke of Wey, Lord Kendall would be Julian’s most prestigious client. The influence of the two men combined could even earn him consideration for a baronetcy, one of his fondest wishes.

  If Julian had come to the same realization, he gave no sign. “In what capacity?” he asked as if the request bore no more weight than conversation about the weather.

  Lord Kendall didn’t flinch as Fortune launched herself at his tassel. “Solicitor, man of affairs, the fellow who oversees all my holdings.”

  Julian’s reddish brows went up at last. “I am honored, my lord, but I was under the impression you had such an agent. Sir Alexander Prentice, I believe.”

  Meredith willed herself not to stiffen at the name. Julian had assured her he would deal with the fellow, but she had not been made privy as to how or when. She had also heard no more of the Bow Street Runner and could only hope he had moved on to investigate real crimes.

  Lord Kendall appeared to have as little liking for the solicitor, for his face hardened. “Sir Alexander has in every way made known he no longer wishes to be of service.”

  He’d made an enemy of Lord Kendall? Was the man mad?

  Julian leaned back on the sofa as if he held as much doubt. “I cannot believe he would refuse you. He served your father.”

  Lord Kendall shifted. “May I speak candidly? Nothing I say must leave this room. I will not subject my wife to gossip.”

  Meredith raised her head. “I do not gossip, my lord.”

  His mouth quirked under his mustache. “I did not think you did, Miss Thorn.”

  “And neither do I,” Julian assured him, brown eyes interested. “Even though we have no formal commitment as yet, I consider this discussion part of client privilege.”

  “Good.” Lord Kendall moved his boot, setting Fortune darting back. “Sir Alexander has made it abundantly clear that he considers my wife beneath the dignity of a marchioness. He attempted to stop me from endowering her sisters, something I’d promised her in my proposal. And I have suspicions that he has been siphoning funds from the estate.”

  Meredith gasped. “The dastard!”

  “These are disturbing allegations,” Julian said with a frown. “I trust you have proof.”

  “Not enough to convince a magistrate,” the marquess allowed, “but enough to give me pause about continuing with his services. He also attempted to introduce an unsavory person into my household, giving Ivy and her little sister a few bad moments. I am done with him.”

  Meredith put her hand on Julian’s arm to stop him from responding. “Unsavory person? In the form of a Bow Street Runner, perhaps?”

  Lord Kendall eyed her. “He visited you as well?”

  “He imposed himself on many of my associates,” Meredith informed him. “I trust you sent him packing.”

  Again, his mouth hinted of a smile. “I did, with a message to Sir Alexander, a message he did not
heed, for he sent Mrs. Bateman to visit.”

  “The affrontery!” Meredith cried, stiffening. “Are Ivy and Petunia safe?”

  Julian glanced between them. “Mrs. Bateman?”

  “My wife’s stepmother,” Lord Kendall supplied.

  “And a thoroughly unpleasant person,” Meredith added. “You recall when Charlotte, Daisy, and Petunia stayed the night last month for their own safety.”

  Julian nodded.

  “Do not be concerned on their behalf,” Lord Kendall told her. “On my way here, I alerted Sir Matthew as to the woman’s return to England. She will be dealt with. For now, I must deal with Sir Alexander.”

  That made one of them. Meredith glanced to Julian. Once more his face was composed, lean body still.

  “I see,” he said. “Before we continue, Lord Kendall, you should know that I mentored under Sir Alexander and have until lately considered him a friend.”

  Lord Kendall eyed him. Fortune chose that moment to dash out of hiding and pounce on his tassel again. Meredith moved to secure her pet.

  “What changed your mind?” Lord Kendall asked Julian as she brought Fortune back to the sofa.

  “I had conversations that troubled me,” Julian admitted.

  “Sir Alexander is not fond of me,” Meredith put in.

  “Indeed he is not,” Kendall said. “Mrs. Bateman, my wife’s stepmother, told us he hoped to ruin both you and Ivy.”

  Julian jerked to his feet. “You’re certain?”

  Lord Kendall spread his hands. “As certain as I can be given the woman’s character.”

  Meredith could almost see the struggle in Julian. He wanted to believe her and Lord Kendall, but Sir Alexander was like a father to him, and Julian was used to dealing in subtleties, not absolutes.

  He blew out a breath. “The only excuse I can think, and it is a poor one, is that Sir Alexander seeks to protect you and me. But he is mistaken about Meredith, and I believe him to be mistaken about Lady Kendall as well.”

  “Then you’ll accept my commission?” Lord Kendall asked.

  Julian held up a hand. “On one condition. We go see Alex together, ask him to explain himself. After years of association, it would seem he deserves as much.”

  Meredith wasn’t so sure, but she decided not to question him. Julian too deserved to learn the truth. She stood. “Allow me a moment to settle Fortune, and I’ll join you.”

  It was to Lord Kendall’s credit that he did not look to Julian as if she needed his permission. “This will not be pleasant, Miss Thorn,” he said, face once more solemn. “I would like to spare you.”

  “As would I,” Julian assured her. “It seems you were right to be concerned about Alex. He has listened to none of our protests. I will give him one more chance. Either way, allow me to put a stop to his interference.”

  She could not remember that last time she’d had a champion. Now it seemed she had two. How easy to send them off to do battle for her, offering them her blessing with a wave of a handkerchief. But for too long she had lived under the specter of Sir Alexander’s threats. It was time she ended this, for her, for Julian, and for her clients.

  “Sir Alexander threatens not only me but any woman with whom I have associated,” she told them both. “I will not have it. I’d prefer to tell him so myself.”

  Julian offered her his arm. “Then let us give Fortune to Cowls and put Alex in his place, once and for all.”

  ~~~

  Four clerks were busy copying papers as Kendall, Miss Thorn, and Mayes entered the offices of Sir Alexander. Dearborn was among them. He glanced up, washed white, popped to his feet, and hurried to meet them.

  “Lord Kendall, Mr. Mayes, what a surprise, that is a pleasure, yes, most assuredly a pleasure, is it not? And the lady. Lady…Kendall?”

  Dearborn had not met Ivy, so it was a logical conclusion. Indeed, Miss Thorn looked every inch the lady with her straw hat trimmed with curling ostrich plumes and her lavender velvet short jacket.

  “Miss Thorn,” she informed him in tones that dripped icicles. “We are here to see your master.”

  Dearborn bobbed like a bird on the waves, perspiration beginning to glisten along the edges of his sandy hair. “Certainly, that is he would be delighted, I suspect. Allow me to tell him you are here, if you’d be so kind.”

  “No need,” Julian said, unlatching the short, wrought iron gate that separated the entryway from the clerk’s area. “We’ll only be a moment.” He motioned Kendall and Miss Thorn ahead of him, and they started down the aisle between the cluttered desks, the other clerks stopping their work to stare.

  Dearborn scurried along behind them. “Should I bring your books, Lord Kendall? Tea? Lemonade?”

  “Nothing,” Kendall assured him. “But gather up everything having to do with my holdings and finances and have them ready.”

  He glanced over at the clerk to find Dearborn’s Adam’s apple bobbing along with him. “Yes, my lord, at once, my lord, that is…”

  Julian opened the door, then, and all Kendall’s attention went to the man sitting in the high-backed armchair. Sir Alex had been leaning back, feet out to the hearth, steaming cup at his elbow on the polished wood desk, as if all was right with the world.

  Anger pushed Kendall forward, but he kept his face calm. Still, his former solicitor took one look and climbed to his feet. “Lord Kendall, Julian. Is there a problem?”

  Julian shut the door on Dearborn and turned. “In truth, that’s what we’d like to ask you. Lord Kendall, if you’d be so kind.”

  Kendall knew the moment the solicitor noticed Miss Thorn, for he stiffened, and his nostrils flared, as if he were a bull sighting an interloper in his field. Miss Thorn’s head came up as if she was fully prepared to fight him. So was Kendall.

  “I was paid a visit by a Mrs. Bateman,” he said. “She claims you arranged for her to disturb my wife.”

  Alex spread his hands. “One cannot believe the claims of those of such low estate, my lord. I’d have thought you’d realize that by now.”

  “Do you dare compare that harridan with Lady Kendall?” Miss Thorn demanded.

  Heat flamed up Kendall, and his fists balled at his sides.

  Alex’s lips barely lifted, making the look more sneer than smile. “How do you know I meant Lady Kendall?”

  Now Miss Thorn’s cheeks reddened. Kendall thought Mayes would take umbrage, but he moved into the room to lean a hip against the solicitor’s desk. “And how did you know Mrs. Bateman was of low estate if you had never met?”

  “Lady Kendall’s maiden name was Bateman,” Alex supplied, dropping his hands and returning to his chair without inviting any of them to sit. “I assumed the two were related.”

  “The same way you assumed Meredith was guilty of murder?”

  Miss Thorn glanced to Julian in obvious surprise. So did Kendall. His new solicitor’s voice was a purr, but power simmered under it. For all his protestations, it seemed he had an equal reason to dislike Sir Alex.

  The older solicitor gave no indication he heard the anger behind the words. “I cannot help that some men are blinded by a pretty face,” he said. “That’s why they hire me—to protect themselves from their own failings.”

  Miss Thorn drew herself up. “Failings, sir? Who do you think failed?”

  He looked to Kendall as if expecting an answer. But marrying Ivy was no failure. What had started as an act of devotion to his daughter had become so much more. He could say with certainty that he was a better father, a better man, because of Ivy.

  “If I have been failed,” he said to the smug solicitor, “it is in not recognizing the worth of those around me. I would trust Ivy with my life. You, sirrah, are another matter.”

  Alex shrugged. “Which is why I transferred your affairs to Dearborn. Do you tell me he is inadequate to the task?”

  “He certainly doesn’t inspire confidence,” Kendall replied. “But then, I suspect you knew that when you assigned him the role. Did you expect me to come
running back?”

  “I expected you to realize the folly of your decisions eventually,” Alex said with maddening calm. “You will, you know. She isn’t clever enough to hide her tracks, despite her mentor. Dearborn tells me you’ve already noticed irregularities in the household accounts, coinciding with the entry of your wife into your household.”

  Miss Thorn glanced Kendall’s way.

  “He made sure to bring them to my attention,” Kendall told them. “But I was more interested in the earlier discrepancies, dating back to when my father was alive.”

  Sir Alex snorted. “Dear boy, there are no such discrepancies. I handled that effort myself.”

  “They weren’t obvious until Dearborn went over the ledgers,” Kendall acknowledged. “He attempted to correct the inaccuracies, which only made them all the more visible. Someone in your firm has been stealing from my accounts.”

  Miss Thorn’s eyes narrowed, but Alex shook his head and turned to Julian. “You see? Blind. I can only hope your sight is clearer.”

  “Oh, it is,” Julian answered. “Lord Kendall asked me to take over his holdings. I cautioned him to share his concerns with you first.”

  “Quite right,” Alex said. “Between the two of us, we will set him straight.”

  Kendall drew himself up, but Julian spoke first.

  “I think not. Lord Kendall is on a perfectly straight path already. So am I. I will always remember how you fostered my career, sir, and I have no proof of Lord Kendall’s allegations about the discrepancies in his accounts, but I can no longer align myself with a man so arrogant he feels justified meddling in the affairs of others.”

  Miss Thorn went to put a hand on his arm.

  Alex surged to his feet. “Meddling? I do not meddle, sir. Noble houses rise and fall at a word from me. Countries go to war.”

  “Keep your kings and countries,” Kendall said. “I discharge you from my service. Turn over everything to Mayes today.”