In a Perfect Mess With the Marquess

by Hazel Linwood

  The tea-party was drawing to a conclusion, with some of the guests departing to make their way home before dinnertime. Nicholas glanced about the garden, realizing that it must be almost six in the evening. He thought he ought to return home as well.

  When Lady Weston came over to join him and Lady Amelia, he bowed and expressed that he should be leaving.

  “Of course, My Lord. Of course! I trust you have had a good day?”

  “I have, thank you. Most diverting,” he said, and bowed low to Lady Amelia, pressing her fingers to his lips as he kissed her hand.

  Lady Amelia went red, and Lord Calperton straightened up, feeling quite awkward. He wasn’t sure how she felt about him, and wondered if it would be possible to convince her he wasn’t that horrid.

  He said his farewell and went back through the house, collecting his hat at the front door.

  He paused on the step, feeling a little sad. He wondered where Lady Martha was, and wondered why she had gone away and not come back to see him depart.

  Chapter 3

  Martha sat down on her bed and shut her eyes, raising her knees up to her chest, trying to decide just what it was that she was feeling. Her heart thumped and she felt a strange shivering sensation all over her, but she wasn’t cold, and nor was she particularly frightened.

  I’m relieved, that’s all.

  She pushed aside thoughts of Lord Calperton. It wasn’t because of him that she felt so disconcerted. It was the fact that the day was finally through and she could relax and get ready for dinner.

  She found her mind going back to Lord Calperton’s face and she went red. He was a handsome man and she couldn’t help that her body responded to his warm eyes, his slightly shy demeanor. He was her sister’s betrothed—she shouldn’t even look at him sideways.

  She heard a knock at the door and quickly tucked her hair back behind her ears and straightened her gown. “Penitence?”

  “It’s me,” Amelia’s voice said, sounding muffled as it came from the hallway. “May I come in?”

  “Of course,” Martha said. Her sister came in and sat down on the chair by the dressing table. She turned to look at Martha, her brown eyes wide.

  “So?” she asked in a whisper. “What do you think of him?”

  “Him?” Martha frowned. “You mean, Lord Calperton?”

  “Yes!” Amelia said, her voice quite urgent. “Do you think he looks nice? I’m not sure…he was a little strange.” Her brow crinkled and she looked at Martha nervously.

  Martha raised her brow. “I thought he seemed quite affable. In what sense was he strange, think you?” she asked with a frown.

  “Well…he seemed very mannerly and friendly, but, well…a trifle bland. And he likes the countryside! That means he likes hunting, and well…I suppose it means he’s beastly, like Alec Calvering.” She made a face.

  Martha felt her own face fall into a scowl. “He’s not like Alec Calvering!” she said defensively. Alec was the son of a local baron and a man with no manners whatsoever. He spent the whole Autumn out hunting and seemed to take a savage pleasure in shooting as many birds as possible, more than he could ever need to stock the family larder for the year.

  Amelia blinked and Martha had the feeling that she was about to start crying. She shot to her feet and went to take her sister’s hand, feeling instantly contrite.

  “Don’t shout at me, Martha,” Amelia sniffed. “Mama has done that already. I just wanted to talk to someone who would understand. This is so hard…”

  “I’m so sorry, Amelia,” Martha said, and reached into her drawstring bag for a handkerchief. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “I know that,” Amelia sniffed, and blew her nose delicately into the handkerchief. “I just…Mama is insistent on this, and, well…I don’t like him. I much prefer Lord Alton, the Earl of Marwick’s son. And now I can’t tell him that!” She started crying again.

  Martha nodded. She felt her heart ache for Amelia as she started to recognize how hard this was. Amelia had always known, as had Martha, that she and Lord Calperton were betrothed, but she had been free to imagine him before now.

  When she’d actually seen him, Amelia must have realized how much she preferred the tall, fair-haired Lord Alton to Lord Calperton. How would it feel, Martha wondered, to know you had no choice?

  It would be horrible.

  She sat down on the end of the bed, holding Amelia’s hand in her own. “I’m so sorry that I snapped, Ammie,” she said kindly. “I really didn’t mean it. I understand how hard this must be.”

  “I don’t even know if I like him!” Amelia sniffed. “And, with Mama always there, I don’t even know if I’ll ever have a chance to find out.”

  Martha nodded slowly. She understood that part—their Mama was a difficult sort at the best of times. Amelia was particularly susceptible to her moods and outbursts, and Martha knew Amelia would do anything to make their mother happy. She also knew how critical their mother was, and how, with her watching and listening, it would be impossible to say what one wished.

  “I have a plan,” Martha said slowly. “How about if we rode out together—just with Leeson , the chief stable hand, to take us out—and went to Headly Hall?” She asked.

  “Martha! We can’t!” Amelia looked horrified. “On our own? Without chaperones? It would be scandalous!”

  Martha stared at her. “We’d have Leeson, and he’d keep us protected from any harm. Why shouldn’t we?”

  Her sister sniffed into the handkerchief. “It’s just not done,” she said.

  Martha felt a flash of annoyance but held it back. She knew Amelia was right in this, as she was in almost everything about propriety. She knew that their mother would object and that, despite Leeson being the best protector they could wish for—he was big and strong and would certainly keep brigands away—he was not the societal image of a chaperone. It was a bad idea.

  “Well, when they come back to visit at Weston Manor, we’ll think of something.” She grinned. “I’ll have a fit and distract Mama and then you can get to know Lord Calperton much better.” She giggled.

  Amelia looked at her and they both chuckled.

  “Oh, sister,” Amelia said, and went over to settle on the bed, giving Martha a firm embrace. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Me, too, without you,” Martha said sincerely. She clung to her sister, breathing in the fresh lavender scent of her clothing, and felt better. She and Amelia might not have a closeness or friendship with anyone else, but they had each other, and that was certainly enough.

  Amelia beamed. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to think of something for when Lord Calperton comes to dine,” she suggested. “And I think I will wear the figured silk at dinner.”

  Martha frowned. “The one with the brown pattern?” she tried to recall it. They had recently had so many gowns made—for the start of summer—that she could barely recall a particular one.

  “The red one, yes,” Amelia said fondly. “The one with the little red sprigs.”

  “Oh. So it’s red. Not brown.” Martha chuckled. “Yes, I think it would suit you very well. And I know you’ll look more than lovely in it.”

  “Thank you, Martha,” Amelia said, and kissed her brow. “And I think you look very lovely in yellow.”

  “Thank you,” Martha said, a little sadly. Amelia was beautiful, though she never made any distinction between them, Martha could see how much lovelier Amelia was than herself, and sometimes that hurt.

  “I should go,” Amelia said, standing and looking back over her shoulder a little sadly. “We should get ready for dinner soon. Mama won’t like us to take too long in coming down.”

  “Yes,” Martha nodded, slowly. “I’ll be down in a moment. Tell Penitence she can come in, if you see her on the way out?” she asked.

  “Yes, of course. Thank you,” Amelia said shyly as she headed through the door.

  “Of course,” Martha said, and felt her heart ache. Amelia was so
beautiful and so talented—she played the pianoforte and danced and sang—but she had no belief in herself at all. She always acted as if people were doing her a kindness simply by talking to her.

  If I could play the pianoforte and dance and sing, I’d think I was so clever I’d never stop telling people about it!

  She grinned to herself. She had never been much good at ladylike pursuits. Her talents lay outdoors, with riding and croquet. She had no opportunities to show off those talents much, since neither occupation was considered particularly suitable for ladies, but she found herself wondering what Lord Calperton would think about it.

  Stop it, Martha! You shouldn’t like him.

  She sighed and sat down on the bed again, giving herself a moment to think about him. Lord Calperton’s thin, handsome face smiled at her from her imaginings, and she felt her skin tingle with delight. She truly liked him. She wished they could have talked longer. She imagined telling him about her riding, and him smiling at her in that special way, as if he was truly interested and she was a fascinating, special person.

  She pushed the thoughts away, feeling bad. Amelia was the one who had to like him, not her. And even if Amelia could find nothing but a vague understanding in her heart toward him, she—Martha—would not be looked at sideways by Lord Calperton.

  He was just being polite, that’s all.

  She stood to pull the bell to summon her maid to help with her hair, frowning to herself. She knew that Lord Calperton couldn’t possibly like her in the way she had him, but somehow it was too tempting to believe he might. And his interest had seemed so much more than what a guest would pay her. He was not just polite, she was sure.

  “My Lady?” Penitence said, putting her head around the door. “You want to dress now?”

  “I do, please, Penitence,” Martha nodded. “I think I’ll wear the yellow gown,” she added, as her lady’s maid went to the wardrobe to fetch her a smarter gown for dinner.

  “Very good, My Lady. Have you decided what you’ll wear to the fair tomorrow?”

  “Oh!” Martha stared at her in shock. “The fair! Yes! I’ll wear the white patterned gown,” she said quickly, feeling excitement twist in her stomach, mixed with guilt that she hadn’t recalled it earlier.

  “Very good, My Lady.”

  She grinned at Penitence, who was busy adjusting her hair, fixing the places it had come undone when she came upstairs and threw herself onto her bed.

  “Thank you, Penitence. And I am excited about the fair already.”

  “Me too, My Lady,” Penitence assured.

  While she got dressed, changing the cream-colored gown for a plain yellow muslin, she thought about the fair.

  Her mother—who was already waiting for them at dinner, no doubt—would not approve. She hated the fact that Martha spent so much time in the village but until Mrs. Madeley—Martha’s tutor—had left, she could do little about it. Mrs. Madeley had insisted on taking Martha to the local village as often as possible, saying it helped her to learn arithmetic if she helped her with the shopping. Martha eagerly accompanied her on these outings, and once she had met with the villagers she became immersed in the place.

  There is always something happening in Westhall Village.

  She smiled to herself. She had so many friends there and liked to talk to everyone. The fair was organized by Vicar Brownley to raise money for the poor families of the village and was a good way to meet up with them.

  I will definitely go.

  “Thank you, Penitence,” Martha said, heading down the stairs.

  She slipped into the dining room, glad she wasn’t late. Their mother was already there, seated at the table. She sat on the right side, in the center, and Martha and Amelia would sit opposite her. Martha took her seat and was relieved when Amelia walked over from the windows and sat down.

  “You made a good impression,” Lady Weston said to Amelia, looking up at the two of them and then glancing down at her soup plate. It was already full. Haley came forward to pour soup into their plates, and Martha lifted her spoon. Pea soup, her favorite. Temporarily distracted, she didn’t hear Amelia’s reply.

  “I invited Lord Calperton to dine with us the day after tomorrow,” Lady Weston said, reaching for her napkin to dab her lips. “I am sure that will be a convenient time for him and for ourselves.”

  “Yes, Mama,” Amelia agreed politely.

  Martha nodded to herself, feeling relieved. She had been worried how she would sneak to the fair and still be back in time to dress for the dinner. This arrangement worked better.

  “You seem quiet, Martha,” their mother commented. “I have decided to set aside that oversight you made. It was vulgar to open the door, but, since I am in high spirits, I will forget it.”

  “Thank you, Mama,” Martha found herself saying quietly.

  “Now,” their mother said, leaning forward as she reached for a glass of lemonade. “I think we should serve dinner a little early when Lord Calperton calls—I am sure you would both like a chance to show off your skills at the pianoforte.” She sipped her drink, fixing them both with a firm stare.

  “Oh, Mama! That means I must practice those new pieces from the French book you had sent out for me,” Amelia said, dabbing at her lips with her napkin. Martha was half-afraid she might go upstairs to practice instantly, and miss dinner, but she stayed where she was.

  “You play perfectly well, daughter,” their mother said, looking across at Amelia. It was the most complementary remark Martha had ever heard her say to anyone, and she was half-amazed, half suspicious.

  Why is she being so nice to Amelia?

  She put down her soup spoon, reaching for a glass of something to drink—she had swallowed too fast and burned her tongue.

  “I was very pleased to finally introduce the Duke’s son to you,” their mother continued, ignoring Martha’s cough as if she hadn’t heard it. “And I think you will be agreeable when I suggest that the marriage should take place at the end of the summer?”

  “Mama! That’s in a month’s time!” Amelia protested. She looked as if she was going to cry. Martha reached for her hand to comfort her, but Amelia had already covered her face, trying to contain her sobs.

  I know why she is so upset. Her heart is more inclined to someone else.

  Martha wished she could say something to their mother, but she knew if she betrayed Amelia’s fondness for Lord Alton, her sister would never forgive her. And their mother would certainly object.

  “Amelia, I am sure you can come to terms with this,” Lady Weston said firmly. “You have known you and Lord Calperton are betrothed your whole life!” She gestured with her hand to indicate the passage of years.

  “Yes, but…but Mama, this is all so sudden. I’ve only just met him!” Amelia sniffed.

  Martha looked around. She wanted to escape the room and the awful tension. She knew she wouldn’t be able to eat much, the way she felt.

  “Excuse me, Mama, Amelia…” she said, pushing her chair back. She spoke quietly, and she was already at the door when her mother called to her.

  “Martha! You’ve not had the main course, yet.”

  “I feel ill, Mama,” Martha called over her shoulder, and ran lightly up the stairs towards her bedroom. She shut the door, hoping that Amelia would likewise make an escape. When she heard feet running up the stairs, she let out a relieved sigh.

  “Penitence?” she called to her maid, hearing somebody in the wardrobe room next door. “If you could fetch up a plate of dinner for me, please?”

  “Yes, of course, My Lady,” Penitence said at once. “I’ll go down straightaway.”

  Martha leaned back against the wall and let out a sigh. She wished that Amelia could see the appeal of Lord Calperton—she herself thought he was charming, nice, and handsome. But Amelia couldn’t take to him, and she understood that. All the same, it would have made things much easier if she could, she thought sadly. If only she could make her sister see him the way she did!

 
Martha wondered if Lord Calperton was having as much difficulty as she was herself.

  She imagined him out there in Headly Hall—a place she had never visited, even when Baron Winterford had lived there. She found herself daydreaming of showing Lord Calperton around their home—especially the garden, which she loved.

  She pushed the thought away crossly—she shouldn’t daydream about him. He was her sister’s betrothed—whatever Amelia might think of him right now—and she had to eradicate those tingles in her belly. Nothing good could ever come of them. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help looking forward to seeing him again.