In a Perfect Mess With the Marquess

by Hazel Linwood

  He looked towards the doorway as his uncle came in.

  “A fine morning, eh?” his uncle greeted, wincing as he drew out a chair and sat down. He took the weight of his injured knee with a sigh. “Not such a fine night—I couldn’t sleep a wink,” he added wearily. “I hope you slept?”

  “I did. Thank you, Uncle.” He looked at him with a frown of concern wrinkling his brow. “I hope you were not kept awake by being unwell, Uncle?”

  His uncle shook his head and reached for the teapot. “No…not unwell. Those dogs on the estate over on the east side of us…” he shook his head. “I know it’s a hunting lodge, but I ask you! Do they have to howl quite so offensively loud?”

  Nicholas had to smile. “I am so sorry you were kept awake, Uncle,” he said. “I didn’t know it was a hunting lodge?”

  His uncle shot him a haggard glance. “Yes…I do hate hunting. Horrible hobby, that. And this just demonstrates another reason to hate it. Twenty dogs, all in close proximity, all seeking to howl more shrilly and horridly than the last.” He shook his head, pouring himself a cup of tea. He shut his eyes as he drank it, clearly tired and disgruntled.

  Nicholas pressed his lips together, knowing that his uncle was upset, but still amused by his comments. He himself slept on the West side of the house, and had not been in the least disturbed by the sound. The thought of the hunting lodge gave him an idea. He reached for the toast, distracted by his thoughts.

  “Uncle? This hunting lodge. Might they lend us some horses?” he asked, buttering his toast as he talked.

  “Horses?” his uncle frowned at him and set aside his cup of tea. “Why would we want to borrow horses, Nephew? Forgive me for asking, but I cannot imagine why.”

  Nicholas grinned. “Just a thought, Uncle. I was considering an outing. We could invite Lady Martha and her sister, and Lord Alton, and, well…whoever else you might want to invite.” He added, lifting one brow.

  His uncle gave him an odd look. “I feel sure they would lend them to you. They must have quite a stable, I imagine. Are you planning a long ride?” he added with a frown.

  “I am,” Nicholas nodded, though he hadn’t given it much thought. The idea had occurred to him just because his uncle’s sleeplessness had alerted him to the hunting lodge. However, the more he considered it, the better a plan it seemed. Amelia had never been allowed to ride, and he suspected she would be pleased to try now that their mother could not reasonably forbid her to. And Martha’s favorite pastime was riding.

  They would both welcome a day out of the house, I think.

  He felt his cheeks lift in a smile, and was pleased with his plans.

  “Well, then,” his uncle said, taking the pot of jam from the center of the table. “No harm in asking. The name of the owner is Albert Lonsdale. Nice enough fellow, even if he does have a propensity for keeping barking dogs. Do mention my dreadful affliction when you see him? I would be very pleased if something could be done about it,” he added with a shudder.

  Nicholas nodded. “Of course, Uncle,” he agreed.

  The ride to the hunting lodge was not too long, and the mist had cleared to let the sun shine down, dappling the path between the trees. Nicholas enjoyed it, though he spent much of the time day-dreaming about Martha, and imagining her in a long-skirted riding habit on a distant path, where he could kiss her again.

  He was pleased to speak with the owner of the lodge as soon as he arrived. He put in a word about his uncle, and the man assured him he would consider putting the kennels to the other side of the estate, should it happen again. Nicholas rode away feeling contented.

  As he reached the fork in the road that would take him to his uncle’s house, he headed left to Weston Manor.

  His thoughts turned to Lady Martha, and he couldn’t help a shiver of worry. His father’s words were still lodged at the back of his mind, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad might happen to Lady Martha or her sister. He hoped she had written to her father—he wouldn’t feel entirely relaxed until he knew she wasn’t alone in the house with her mother.

  That’s ridiculous. She might be a domineering and unloving person, but that doesn’t mean she would actually do any physical damage to Martha or Amelia.

  He couldn’t set aside the worry, though. He knew he would be much happier if she and Amelia could spend the day away from their home.

  He waited in the hallway while the housekeeper went to fetch Martha. His face lit up as she appeared on the stairs. She was wearing a cream muslin gown patterned in brown, and her hair was loose around her face, curly and lovely. He smiled up at her as she took his hand in her slim one.

  “Nicholas. It is good to see you. You have broken your fast already?” she added. “It is very early to have a visit from you.”

  He grinned. “I have indeed. I wished to pay a visit to invite you on a ride with me. Uncle and I have planned a day’s ride through the woods. We will include Lord Lonsdale, who lives nearby—he owns the hunting lodge, Woodridge Park?”

  “Oh! Yes,” Martha nodded. “They have the best stables in the area.” Her eyes were bright. “I have always wished to visit it.”

  He grinned at her instant excitement, and felt pleased he’d put the plan in action. “Well, then. That’s settled. Will Lady Amelia join us? I plan to invite Lord Alton, and the Gracefields, if you think she would like to come along?”

  Martha’s eyes lit up. “Nicholas. That’s a wonderful idea. I will ask her. I suspect she will agree, though we will need to spend a few days familiarizing her with riding.”

  “Of course,” he nodded. “You are well here, are you not?” he added, unable to keep his concern to himself any longer.

  “Why, yes, Nicholas,” Martha said frowningly. “Quite well. I am, I must confess, happy—however dreadful that might sound.” She blushed and looked away, though he could see a smile at the corner of her mouth.

  “No…not at all,” Nicholas said quickly. “I understand completely.” He found himself recalling how he felt, when he finally walked out of Headly Hall and went to his uncle’s home. Being away from his father’s threatening, critical presence had been an immense relief.

  Martha smiled at him. “Thank you,” she said simply. “And, thank you for your invitation. I would be delighted to attend.”

  They made plans, setting the date for the end of the week

  “I will see you soon, then,” he said, bowing low as he took his leave.

  “I will see you soon, too,” she said with a smile.

  He was aware suddenly that they were standing very close together on the steps of her home. He put out a hand and took her slender fingers in his own. She looked up at him with a gentle care in her eyes and he could not stop himself from leaning forward and taking her in his arms.

  His mouth descended on hers and he held her tight to him. His hands were in her hair, at her waist, stroking her back. His lips tasted hers and met and clung and explored her soft mouth. He felt intense heat spread through his body and his cheeks flushed red.

  He stepped back and looked into her eyes, breath heaving, body on fire. She looked up at him breathlessly and her mouth made a small shape of surprise, her eyes bright.

  He bowed low and walked hastily down the stairs, then swung up to the saddle and lifted his hat to her. She smiled and waved and he rode away, heart soaring, barely able to wait for the ride they had planned together.

  Chapter 34

  Martha looked at herself in the mirror, feeling a little knot of apprehension in her stomach. She was dressed warmly for riding—her tight-fitting cloak was snug and warm over the long skirts of her riding habit—but she was worried about the weather. It was dark and the clouds hung low in the sky, promising heavy rain. She shivered and was glad for her cloak and bonnet.

  It’s cold, even in here. It’s true autumnal weather, for all that it settled in early this year.

  She heard Penitence in the hallway and grinned up at her maid, her nervousness vanishing as she saw
her familiar face.

  “You look lovely, Lady Martha,” Penitence said warmly. “Too lovely to go out riding.”

  Martha grinned. Penitence had never quite understood her delight in riding, though Martha had explained it to her on several occasions—the thrill of the gallop, the joy and freedom of it.

  . “Is my sister around?”

  “Yes—she’s waiting in the entrance hall.”

  “Thank you,” Martha said, and tugged on her gloves, then hurried down the stairs. She looked down at Amelia, who smiled up at her nervously. She had her fine blonde hair pulled back, and her face looked even more delicate. The skirts of her riding habit were white, unlike Martha’s, which was a biscuit brown.

  “I think I’m ready,” Amelia said softly. “Alton is in the drawing room…he came to fetch me so that we could ride to Headly Hall together. Isn’t that kind of him?”

  Martha beamed. “It is.”

  She heard Alton come out of the drawing room, and she felt her heart leap as she saw him looking at her sister. He had such a soft expression on his face. They all went outside and walked to the stables. While Alton helped Amelia into the saddle, Martha stepped up on the mounting block and glanced up at the house.

  The windows looked bright in the darkness and Martha shivered. It was no day for a ride. All the same, she was glad they would be going—since the confrontation with Mama, the house had been oppressive and she was pleased of any excuse to leave. She had barely spoken with her mother, who took her meals in her chambers and refused to see them. The silence was gloomy.

  When Father gets back, things will be better.

  She knew he would return soon—he had written post-haste on receiving her letter, to let her know he would be back within the week. He could not say how long the journey might take, since he had stressed he might be delayed by rain. He had promised he would try to be there in three days at the soonest. Until then, she would be pleased to spend as many days away from the house as she could.

  She listened to the hollow sound of hoofbeats as her sister and Alton rode out of the stable area and onto the path. She followed them through the garden and up to the drive, heading down to Headly House, where they would meet up with the rest of the party.

  When they reached the place, the sky had darkened even more, were that possible. Martha shivered and looked up at the windows, where a light burned in only one or two of them and the rest stared down like eyes. She shivered. Somehow, there was an oppressive air about this house, too.

  “Martha!”

  Nicholas rode up, his lighthearted voice lifting her mood. He was dressed in a dark brown riding jacket that Martha was sure was new. His top hat sat on his dark hair, his fair skin seemed paler in the overcast morning. He had knee-high boots, and his fingers were loose on the reins as he rode, his posture straight and confident. He grinned and her apprehension dissolved. She let her gaze linger on him and he blushed. She looked up at him fondly.

  “You cut a fine figure,” she said. Her cheeks burned at the boldness of her own comment.

  “I cannot begin to tell you how fine you look, My Lady,” he said sincerely. He bowed, bending at the waist on horseback. “I am so pleased you could arrive so early.”

  “Thank you,” she said, and looked over her shoulder at the rest of the guests, who were waiting on the drive. Nicholas had clearly borrowed horses for everyone—they were joined by about fifteen other people.

  As they rode together, Martha saw Nicholas tense. He was looking over his shoulder at a horseman who rode far to their left. She frowned. She couldn’t see his face clearly—he was turned away from her and his collar and top hat partly obscured his face. The others—the Gracefields, the Hendersleys, Lord Grantham and Lady Sanderling and the local gentry—she knew. This man was somebody she didn’t know—though, admittedly, he was too far away to clearly see.

  “Who is that?” she asked softly.

  “My father.”

  “Why is he coming with us?” Martha asked bluntly. She instantly reddened with blushing. “I mean…of course, he is your father, and he’s welcome to come along if he wishes to, but…well…I thought you were not on speaking terms?”

  Nicholas nodded. His expression was difficult to read. “We are not, no. I couldn’t keep him away, though—the wretched fellow insisted. It’s Albert Lonsdale…he told him we were going.” She could hear the annoyance in his voice. “And the moment Father knew, he insisted on coming, even though I made it clear—in no uncertain terms—what I thought of his joining us.” He raised an eyebrow.

  Martha didn’t know what to say. “Well, I suppose we can’t get rid of him…after all, he’s renting this land—this part of it, anyway—and it’s his right,” she said carefully.

  Nicholas smiled thinly. “Yes. That’s more or less how he phrased it.” He winced, his eyes tense at the edges. “We shall forget about him, shall we not? After all, just because he’s here doesn’t mean we need to pay him any mind. He can ride along with us if he wishes. Nobody has to so much as notice he’s here.”

  Martha grinned. “You’re right.”

  She turned away from that grim figure on the edge of the group, and looked ahead into the woods. She was determined not to let anything dampen her excitement, not even the cold weather or that taciturn, silent man who rode along with them.

  “Maybe we can race when we get to Woodville,” Nicholas said with a grin, finding something to lighten the gloomy atmosphere. “They have a fine wide field there. I would dearly love a race.”

  Martha beamed. “Challenge accepted.”

  They rode along side by side, exchanging lighthearted comments as they went. Martha glanced over her shoulder at the rest of the party. Amelia and Alton rode near the back, but she thought her sister was doing remarkably well.

  She waved and Amelia waved back, grinning boldly. Martha felt herself relax. She looked around the dark forest, the paths between the trees lost in shadow. The footfall of the horses was softened to silence by the leaves, and if it was raining yet, it was cushioned by the foliage around them. Everything was extremely quiet, eerily so.

  We will get to Bloomington Hall soon, and then on to the hunting lodge. I am sure we’ll reach warm, dry stables and a welcome glass of mulled wine before the rain comes.

  She flexed her fingers, glad that her leather gloves were holding the heat.

  “It’s cold, eh?” Nicholas said. He breathed out a plume of mist. Martha chuckled.

  “We can play at dragons, like I did when I was a girl.”

  “Dragons?” Nicholas inquired, then breathed out the mist again and chuckled. “You’re right! I never saw it that way. What a grand thought.”

  They rode along the path, side by side in companionable silence.

  They were still far from Bloomington when the path narrowed. They had to ride in single file. Martha fell in behind Nicholas and she glanced over her shoulder, checking that the other riders were keeping up. She saw someone fall in behind them, about ten feet away, and noticed that the mist was settling in and she couldn’t see the riders behind them.

  We should be careful.

  She glanced back as the other rider disappeared, cloaked from her sight by the mist. She twisted in the saddle, about to call to hear if anyone else was close by. She heard the soft, barely-audible noise of hoofs on the path somewhere and shrugged, turning around again.

  Must be someone from another party, riding along a different path.

  She dismissed the sound, determined to feel at peace again.

  The noise was louder, suddenly, and faster. Martha tried to twist off the path as she saw the impossible happen. Two horsemen were coming from the side of the path, riding straight at her. She couldn’t see their faces, but one horse ploughed into hers, who screamed and veered left, off the path.

  “No!” Martha shouted, but she could not do anything, as her horse and the horseman’s rode side by side, both of them racing now.

  She knew she would not be able to get
her horse to stop. He was frightened and unused to her, and caught up in the race with the other horse. She shouted and dragged the reins to make them avoid a tree, but as they flashed past her horse kept galloping.

  “No! Stop!”

  The horse didn’t pay her any heed, and he raced on ahead. She tried to glance at her assailant, but his coat had a high collar that obscured his face and his hat was pulled down low, shading his eyes so that she couldn’t recognize him.

  “Nicholas!” she shouted. “Nicholas…”

  She was sure he’d heard her horse scream. It had been so loud! Where was he?