by Quinn, Ella
“Well.” His sister-in-law huffed. “I think it is quite gothic.”
“Meg, my love.” Damon placed a restraining hand on her arm. “Quartus is only going to meet the lady, and arranged matches are still made all the time.”
“That may very well be, but Quartus has an engagement to take Anna Wharton to the museum at eleven. The least your father could have done was to have asked what time was convenient for him.” He opened his lips to tell his sister-in-law that he intended to cancel that meeting, but Meg held up a finger, forestalling him. “Do not even think about crying off. You will simply have to explain to Lady Sarah that you had prior plans and cannot stay long.”
That would actually work well. Particularly in the event that she took an immediate dislike to him or he to her. “An excellent idea, Meg. I shall do precisely that.” Wishing to change the subject, he asked, “Do we have an event to attend this evening?”
“My mother’s ball.” She shook her head in disgust. “I have, repeatedly, told you and Hawksworth we shall attend, and that you, both of you, will be required to help ensure that all the ladies who wish to dance have partners.”
“That, my dear, is your brother, Kit’s, forte.” Hawksworth slipped his arm around her shoulders. “I intend to remain next to my beautiful wife.”
Her lips tipped up, but she gave him narrow-eyed look just the same. “Flattery will not help you this evening my love.”
“In that case, I insist I be allowed to save my waltzes for you.”
“If you must.” Her voice held a note of exasperation, but she was smiling.
What would it be like to have a love that deep? And not only love but a friendship with one’s spouse? A tightness formed in Quartus’s chest. Unfortunately, he would probably never know. Without his father’s financial support, he could not afford to marry.
“You said she was reclusive?” he asked, wanting to figure out why his father had chosen Lady Sarah.
Meg’s brow scrunched up. “The last time I saw her in Town was when she first came out.” With her finger, she tapped her chin. “Very nice and not at all shy, which is the reason I was surprised when she did not come up for the Little Season or the next Season. There was no mention of her marriage. I was astonished when you said she was here now for I have not seen her anywhere, not even during morning visits. I wonder what the reason could be.”
“I would like to know what benefit the duke will receive from the match,” Damon added dryly.
Meg gave a sharp nod. “As would I. He must be benefiting from it in some way.”
Clearly Quartus’s brother and sister-in-law were much more up to snuff than he was. “What do you mean? I am so far down the line when it comes to inheritance there is nothing to be gained from my marriage. I am almost surprised that Father is arranging one for me.”
Damon rose, holding his hand out for Meg. “Mark my words. He stands to gain. Whether it is political influence, or something else, he does nothing that does not cause an advantage for himself.”
“Markville as well,” Meg said as she shook out her skirts. “From what I have seen, they are cut from the same cloth. I agree. I would dearly like to know what it is.” She picked up the last ginger biscuit from the tray. “In the meantime, we must dress. We are due at my parents’ house in two hours.”
Quartus found that he was actually looking forward to dinner and the ball. His brother had assured him her family was easy to be around, and he had reserved a dance with the Duchess of Wharton as well. Although, marriage was out of the question, he did enjoy speaking with her and standing up with her. He even looked forward to tweaking her aunt. Although, he couldn’t say why he did. Possibly because no one had ever thought of him as dangerous before. One could not gain a reputation as a rake or an out and outer as a rector, and he rather liked that she did not see him as a safe clergyman. As long as the woman didn’t liken him to his father again, he would be happy.
Then again, it could be because his father had settled on a match for him, his time to do as he wished was drawing short.
Whatever the reason, Quartus was determined to take advantage of his freedom while it lasted.
Anna, accompanied by her father and aunt, was bowed into Featherton House by their butler. “Your Grace.”
Once he’d taken her outerwear—she was still chilly in England—as well as her father’s hat and cane, and her aunt’s evening cloak, they were shown into a drawing room.
“The Duchess of Wharton, Lady Tatiana Whitestone, and Mr. Calder.”
“Welcome, Your Grace.” Lady Featherton glided forward to greet them. “Lady Tatiana, I am delighted to see you again. My mother-in-law will be present this evening, and Mr. Calder, how lovely to meet you.” Lady Featherton took Anna’s arm. “I believe you know everyone who is here at the moment. Would you like a glass of sherry?”
“Yes, please.” Anna glanced around the room as she accepted the small goblet of wine.
The gathering was smaller than she had expected, and she did, indeed, know all the women. She smiled to the others, but, for some reason, her gaze was drawn to Lord Quartus. He was dressed in a navy blue jacket and breeches, and snowy white linen. His red vest was embroidered in silver, and the only fobs he wore were a quizzing glass and a pocket watch.
The man was standing by one of two window seats, speaking with Lady Evesham and Lady Rutherford. She had met the women during morning visits.
He turned, and his eyes met hers making her heart flutter. It was the first time since Aaron, her former betrothed, had died that she felt warm toward a man. Once more, she decided to take the initiative, and strolled toward the small coterie.
The ladies curtseyed deeply, and Lord Quartus bowed. “Oh dear.” Anna didn’t know if she would ever become used to ladies curtseying to her in that manner. “Good evening.”
Lady Evesham’s blue eyes twinkled. “I understand it will be a while before you are at ease accepting you due. It will come.” She signaled to someone across the room. “For now, I believe I have a surprise for you.”
A tall broad-shouldered man sauntered toward them, and Anna gasped. “Lord Marcus! How wonderful to see you again.”
“Lord Evesham now, Your Grace.” Taking Lady Evesham’s hand he grinned. “I have been told you already met my wife.”
“Yes, indeed.” A memory or rather a ship stirred in Anna’s mind. “This is Lady Phoebe?”
“As you see.” The lady herself blushed as Marcus brought her hand to his lips. “But tell me, why did I not hear about you being heir to a duchy before now?”
Anna told him what had occurred. “I have to say, I feel much more . . . Oh, I don’t know, at home seeing you here.”
“In that case, you will be happy to know there is one other of our friends from Tortola in England as well.”
“I heard Emma Spencer-Jones married a Harry Marsh, but I haven’t seen her.”
“The youngest child was not feeling well,” Lady Rutherford said. “Causing them to delay their travel to Town. Harry and Emma should be here tomorrow or the next day.” A playful smile hovered on Lady Rutherford’s lips. “Emma is my sister-in-law.”
Tears of joy pricked Anna’s eyelids. “Despite what my aunt tells me, I think it is appropriate for us all to be on a first name basis. I sincerely hope that Marcus and Emma will not remember to call me ‘your grace.’ Which will make it awkward for everyone else.”
“An excellent idea, in gatherings such as this,” Phoebe Evesham said gently. “However, you are too new to the role to let down your defenses as it were.”
A few minutes after the exchange of first names, a striking lady with deep auburn hair accompanied by a gentleman with a face that reminded Anna of a Greek or Roman bust entered the room, followed by two more couples.
“Robert and Serena, Viscount and Vicountess Beaumont, Caro and Gervais, Earl and Countess of Huntley, and Will and Eugénie, Viscount and Viscountess Wivenly,” Meg, who was standing next to Anna, whispered. “The only ones
of our group unable to attend are Matt and Grace, the Earl and Countess of Worthington, and Rupert and Vivian, the Earl and Countess of Stanstead.”
Anna could not keep a broad smile from her face as the others were introduced. It appeared as if she was being drawn into a close group of friends, something she desperately needed and wanted. “Did you all grow up together?”
“The gentlemen knew each other, and many of the ladies did as well,” Meg explained. “Eugénie and Emma were imported from the West Indies. Eugénie is of French origin, but had been living in St. Thomas . . .”
By the time dinner was announced, Anna felt as if she had made fast friends with the ladies, and was delighted she no longer felt alone in England.
“Will you allow me to escort you into dinner?” Quartus winged out his arm. “I have discovered it is the custom among this group to dine informally. I believe that is the reason we are so few.”
“Thank you.” She glanced up as he looked down. Her heart jumped again. Could I truly be falling in love with him? No, it was much too soon. “I . . . I am glad to be included.”
“As am I.” She searched his face. Was it longing she saw there? “I haven’t had so many companions since I left Oxford.” Something else that could probably be laid at the Duke of Somerset’s door. “Leaving your family behind permanently could not have been easy for you. I am happy Meg and Hawksworth have introduced you to their friends.”
The warmth she felt for him grew hotter. “And you as well. You have made me feel very welcome.”
“That was easy,” he said in a voice only for her. “Not only are you a beautiful lady, you are a delight to dance and speak with.”
It had been a long time since a gentleman had told her she was beautiful. The last man was Aaron. “Thank you. May I say you look vastly handsome.”
Lord Quartus smiled down at her as if she was the only person in the room. The only woman who mattered to him. “And thank you.”
“Grandmamma and Duchess!” Meg exclaimed, as Anna and Quartus were nearing the dining room.
“I think”—Quartus placed his fingers over her hand—“we are about to be entertained.”
After everything Aunt Tatiana had said about duchesses being regal and staid, Anna was at a loss as to how a duchess could be entertaining. “I do not understand.”
“You are about to meet the Dowager Lady Featherton, Meg’s grandmother, and the Duchess of Bridgewater, Lady Featherton’s bosom friend.” He’d placed his lips close to Anna’s ear, causing a pleasurable tingle on her neck. “They were instrumental in Meg and Damon being able to wed.”
That would be an interesting tale. “How so?”
“It is not really my story to tell. Suffice it to say that they foiled my father’s plot.”
A very interesting tale. Perhaps Meg would tell her. “I look forward to meeting them.”
He guided Anna to two chairs near his brother and sister-in-law, yet before she was able to take her seat, a lady who was sixty if she was a day, pointed at her. “You must be the new Duchess of Wharton. You are the image of your mother.”
“That she is, Your Grace.” Father held out a chair for Aunt. “The years have treated you well.”
“John Calder.” The Duchess of Bridgewater held out a be-ringed hand. “I never thought to see you again.”
Going to the older woman, he bowed. “You wouldn’t have if things had turned out differently. I’m very happy in Tortola. As soon as I have Anna settled, I’ll return.”
“I had no idea that my parents moved in such exalted circles,” she said in a low voice.
Quartus led her to two chairs near the head of the table. “I have a feeling that if we simply listen, we’ll learn a great deal.”
“There is nothing those two old ladies don’t know about the ton,” Damon said from her other side.
“Anna, my dear.” Her father’s voice brought her attention back to the older ladies. “May I introduce her grace the Duchess of Bridgewater, and the Dowager Vicountess Featherton? Your Grace, Lady Featherton, my daughter Anna, as you correctly surmised, Duchess of Wharton.”
“I look forward to getting to know you,” the duchess said. “If you ever need help with anything, feel free to call on me.”
The elder Lady Featherton’s eyes warmed. “I do as well, my dear.” She glanced at Papa and chuckled. “We’ll tell you all the secrets you’ll need to know.”
Anna’s aunt closed her eyes as if she was in pain, and her father groaned, she couldn’t hold back a giggle. “I shall look forward to it, my lady.”
If only she had met all these new gentlemen before she had accepted Lord Markville’s request for a set this evening. However, when he had arrived during visiting hours the other day, she had not been certain her card would be full by this evening. Anna sighed to herself. She still could not like the man. He appeared cold, and preoccupied, as if nothing was going the way he wished it would. Even his blue eyes reminded her of the ice pond she had seen at Wharton. Nothing at all like the warm light blue of Quartus’s eyes. Still, there was no real harm in him. She did wonder if he was as stiff on the dance floor as he had been in her drawing room. Then again, she was only standing up with the man. It was not as if she was inundated with gentleman clamoring to dance with her. There must be something about being a duchess that was off putting. She would enjoy herself this evening, and look forward to her outing with Lord Quartus tomorrow. If her feelings for him continued to grow, her hunt for a husband might be short indeed.
Chapter 4
A firm knock on the door of Lady Sarah Martin’s parlor, heralded her brother’s imminent entrance, she tucked the letter she had received from her betrothed between the cushions of the small sofa.
“Sarah.”
Rising quickly, she turned to face Markville, who was several years her senior. “Good morning. What brings you here, and why are you unable to wait until I give you leave to come in?”
Oh dear. Now he was scowling.
“It is my house, and what would you be doing that requires privacy?” He glanced around the room as if she had a lover hidden somewhere.
“Never mind.” If he was not going to make the effort to be polite, she saw no reason to placate him. He had not even explained his reasoning for uprooting her from the country and bringing her to Town. Which was the last place she wished to be. Instead of being allowed to ramble where she wished, and swim in the stream, and breathe clean air, she was forced to be escorted everywhere or remain in the house. “What is it you want?”
“You will have a visitor at ten this morning.”
She gave her head a little shake. “No one knows I’m in Town. How could I possibly have a visitor?”
“I have received an offer of marriage from the Duke of Somerset to his son, Lord Quartus. He is coming to meet you.”
Biting down hard on the inside of her lip, Sarah resisted the urge to throw something large and hard at her brother’s head. She could not, however, hide her exasperation. “Has it escaped your memory that I am already betrothed and have been for almost four years?”
“Not at all.” Markville gave her his I-am-in-charge-of-you-now-look. “You, though, appear to have forgotten that unless your erstwhile fiancé marries you on or before your twenty-first birthday, you agreed to marry where your family chooses. I am that family, and I have decided you will wed Lord Quartus.”
Plopping back down on the sofa, she crossed her arms over her chest. “You are being medieval.”
“No. I am doing exactly as I promised our father I would do.” Flipping his pocket watch open, her brother strolled back to the door. “And if you want your inheritance, you must wed within one month of attaining your majority.” Ah, yes. The inheritance her father and now her brother said she would have, but gave her no other information. Hence, she had no idea what this wonderful inheritance entailed. “I might have taken a different tack if you had come to Town over the years for the Season, or tried to find another husband. You have not. Not
to mention that Jeremy Bellingham has not contacted me at all. Aside from that, I plan to wed in the very near future, and I do not desire my wife to have to chaperone you. I met Lord Quartus last evening. He is a very good match for a lady who has made herself a recluse.”
“Does he wish to wed me?” She could not believe that in these modern times a gentleman would consent to marry a woman sight unseen, and at his father’s behest. Even if the father was a duke.
“He will do as he is told.” In that case, this Lord Quartus did not sound like a gentleman she wished to marry. A spineless man was not for her.
Markville lifted the door latch. She had meant to be silent. Instead she blurted out. “Jeremy and I love each other. He will be back in time.”
“Oh?” Her brother said in a voice that made a cold shiver run down her back. “And have you heard from him recently?”
Ignoring the missive hidden in the sofa, she lied, “No, but I know he will come.”
“It may be better for him if he does not. You, of all people know I did not favor this arrangement.”
The door closed behind him, and Sarah placed her hand on her chest, trying to still the beating. All these years she had never given it much thought, but now she was glad that when her father had died she told Jeremy to write to her in care of her old nurse. Taking the letter out, she reviewed the short note.
* * *
My darling Sarah,
I have arrived back in England. I must remain in Plymouth for the next week or so sorting out business, but I will be with you before your birthday. Special license in hand. Write to me at the Ship as soon as you receive this letter.
All my love forever,
Yr servant,
Jeremy
* * *
Somehow she must send a letter to him warning him not to approach her brother and informing him that she was no longer on her family’s estate in the country. But who could she trust? Not poor Mrs. Potter, her companion. Sarah would have to find someone else to help her escape Markville and marry Jeremy.
