The Marquis She's Been Waiting For

by Ella Quinn

“I was in the Eton Monarch Boat Club.” He leaned forward to dig the oars into the water but not too far.

  “Lord Fotheringale does not appear as competent as you.” Miss Chatham had her head turned, and Alex followed her gaze.

  “He is digging his oars too deep.” The sun was warm, and he was thankful for the cooling breeze.

  “What are those boats doing?” She pointed beyond the boat in which Dorie sat with Fotheringale.

  Two skiffs were racing toward them. Idiots. Hadn’t they seen the number of boats out meandering around? “Fotheringale,” Alex shouted. “Fotheringale!”

  Nothing. The man was either deaf or not paying attention. Dorie did look at them. “Point toward the other boats.”

  Miss Chatham did as she was told, and Dorie immediately saw the danger. Alex couldn’t hear what she said to Fotheringale, but whatever it was, the man did nothing.

  Damn. Alex swung the boat around and soon she was gliding swiftly toward the other skiff, shouting at Fotheringale to change direction. Alex’s back and arms burned as he plied the oars faster than he’d done in years. “Tell me when I’m getting close.”

  Miss Chatham nodded tightly. “About five feet.”

  “Can you see if the other boats have slowed at all?”

  “No. They are coming even faster.”

  He turned his head. Both skiffs bearing down on Dorie’s boat. The only way to save them was to ram the bow of the skiff and turn it before it sailed farther into the racing path. “Yell for all your worth and try to alert the other two boats, and hold on.”

  Miss Chatham let go of her hat, grabbed the bench, and shouted, “Stop, stop, stop!”

  The impact of hitting Dorie’s boat vibrated down Alex’s arms causing him to almost lose his grip on the oars. The two skiffs racing slowed, and Fotheringale turned red and started bellowing. “What the devil are you doing, Exeter?”

  Dorie’s mien was a mask of anger. “Saving us from being broadsided.” Silence hung in the air for a second. She had to be struggling not to call him a name or swear at the idiot. “I told you to turn the skiff.”

  As if for the first time, Fotheringale seemed to notice the other two boats, one of them just inches from the skiff, and all the blood drained from his face. “I didn’t see them.”

  Dorie’s jaw dropped open and she snapped it shut. “Lord Fotheringale, I wish to return to shore. Now.”

  If there had been a way to safely bring her to his boat, Alex would have done it. “I think that’s an excellent idea.”

  As they made their separate ways to the shore, Miss Chatham studied him. “You love her.”

  I do?

  Dorie certainly occupied most of his thoughts. He detested seeing her with other men, and, especially at this moment, wanted very much to carry her off with him. “You might be right.” But how could Miss Chatham know how he might be feeling? He glanced at her and frowned.

  She let out a peal of laughter. “Oh, my lord! It is all over your face.”

  “My face?” He didn’t understand.

  “It is the way you look at her. Anyone who was paying the least attention could see that you are in love.”

  “Does Fotheringale look at her the same way?” God, Alex hoped not. “Is she in love with either of us?”

  Smiling, Miss Chatham shook her head. “He is in awe of her.” She tilted her head first one way then the other. “Although she is doing her best not to, I believe she might be in love with you. It is hard to tell. She does not give much away.”

  She isn’t the type of lady to wear her heart on her sleeve.

  Turley was right. But Alex would hazard a guess that when she loved, she would love deeply. He wanted her love for himself, and if he was lucky enough to win it, he’d keep her safe. Unlike Fotheringale. But he didn’t want to be in love until she loved him. That was enough thinking.

  Glancing around, Alex noticed the two young men who had been racing were gone. Somehow he’d find them and put the fear of God or the Marquis of Exeter into them.

  Suddenly he remembered he hadn’t asked Miss Chatham how she was faring. “Are you well? This was not the gentle ride I thought it would be.”

  “I am perfectly fine.” Her bonnet was a bit askew, and she was still holding on to the bench. “However, if I do this again, I shall ensure that no one is engaged in a race anywhere around me.”

  “I am impressed by how well you took instruction and handled yourself.” Most ladies would likely have swooned, especially when he’d hit the other skiff.

  “Thank you. I do not believe I mentioned that I also have two brothers who have ruined me forever. After they tried to scare me with everything from frogs to leeches, I do not believe I have any nerves left.”

  Except for the fear she might be made to marry a man she didn’t want to. Still, Alex chuckled as he brought them into shore. He wondered if Dorie had gone through the same torture at the hands of her brothers. She probably did.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Dorie was very close to strangling Lord Fotheringale with her bare hands. Not only had he ignored her and her warnings, if it hadn’t been for Exeter, the dunderhead would have caused them serious injury. How could he have totally ignored her? The worst of it was that she and her parents were dining with him and his mother tomorrow evening. Perhaps she will have calmed down by then. She had thought, nay, she had been certain that tonight she would finally know that she wished to marry him, but after this afternoon, marriage to Fotheringale was the last thing she wanted. The man to whom she was most grateful was Lord Exeter. He had known exactly what to do in order to avoid at the very least a dunking and possibly worse.

  They arrived on shore to a group of spectators congratulating him on his expert handling of the skiff. He had, naturally, arrived first and was holding out his hand to her when her boat was beached. Taking his hand, she sunk into a curtsey. “I have not yet thanked you.”

  He bowed gracefully as if he had not just performed an amazing physical feat. “It was my pleasure.” His voice low, he murmured, “I would never allow anything to happen to you.” Her mouth gaped, and he grinned. “Anyone who can so gracefully curtsey while in a skiff must be preserved.”

  She stepped out, grateful that he had lightened the mood. “I can say the same about any gentleman who performs so heroically.”

  His spring green eyes twinkled. “If only I knew as much about drainage.”

  Dorie laughed. Not the polite laugh she had been taught, but one that came from deep within. “How very true, but soon you shall.”

  Fotheringale finally exited the boat and bowed. “May I escort you back to your mother, Lady Dorie?”

  She was about to deny him, but she could not very well go back alone, and Lord Exeter was with Miss Chatham. “Yes, please.” She glanced back at Lord Exeter, and he mouthed, “Tomorrow.”

  Giving him a small smile, she left with Fotheringale. “My lady.” Fotheringale’s voice was low and urgent. “Please forgive me. I had no idea those fellows would be so careless.”

  She opened her mouth to tell him that she had told him they were completely oblivious to everything but their race but thought better of it. It would not do to make a scene. She slid a look at him. His brown eyes were pleading with her to accept his apology. “I forgive you, my lord. However, the next time I tell you something, you should listen.”

  “I shall.” He nodded eagerly. “You have my promise.”

  He sounded contrite, but he acted like an overeager puppy who wants to be forgiven after making a mess on the floor. Nevertheless, she did not wish to spend any more time with him today. Fortunately, two ladies who could help her appeared. “Mama, Caro.”

  “Are you well?” Mama looked Dorie over like a mother hen.

  “I am. I shall tell you about it on the way home. I am ready to depart.”

  “We saw most of it,” Ca
ro whispered in her ear as they strolled back to the house. “Exeter was impressive to say the least.”

  “Yes.” He was, and Dorie was not going to make light of it. “His actions saved us.”

  For weeks she had been almost refusing to see his many desirable traits. She had been trying to ignore the way she was drawn to him in a way she had not experienced with another man. Yet… She still wanted a love match, and he had not given any indication that he wanted one as well. Could he fall in love with her? Could she fall in love with him? Or was Fotheringale a better choice? Obviously, more research into how one fell in love was needed. Or how a man fell in love. She was not going to repeat what happened last Season.

  Adeline and Georgie came hurrying up followed by Lords Littleton and Turley, who veered off to speak with Lord Exeter.

  “We saw what occurred,” Adeline said. “That was very nearly a tragic accident.”

  “Someone should shake those young men until they think straight,” Georgie added.

  That made Dorie grin. “Or rattle their brains for good.”

  “Do you want a cup of tea?” Mama asked.

  That would be nice but not here. “I would like to go home. My skirts are wet.” As were Dorie’s feet. When the skiffs collided, water had splashed into the boat.

  Her mother glanced down. “I had not noticed.”

  “It is just the hem.” Dorie kicked them out a bit to keep the fabric from clinging. “But Curran will want to launder it before the gown is ruined.”

  “Yes, indeed. Caro, I shall make our excuses if you will call the carriage.”

  “I would be happy to.” She linked her arm with Dorie’s.

  “I will be happy to escort Lady Dorie,” Fotheringale said with a hopeful tone.

  “I think you have done quite enough today, sir.” Mama looked down her nose at him. Dorie had always wondered how her mother managed that so successfully when her nose was actually not at all long.

  “Or did not do.” Caro’s brows were raised as if daring him to respond.

  Once again, his sad eyes reminded Dorie of a puppy’s. “I did not mean—”

  Mama made a sharp motion with her hand. “I do not react well to having my daughter’s life threatened by foolishness.”

  “Or anything else,” Caro muttered in an underbreath. She propelled Dorie toward the house. “Unless he wants a scathing lecture, he had better leave Mama-in-law alone.”

  Actually, Dorie thought she might enjoy hearing that. Despite telling him that she forgave him, she was still extremely angry at the man.

  As they reached the house, they came across their hostess, Lady Potter. “I was told what occurred and have called for your carriage, my ladies. I know exactly who those boys are, and you can be assured that I shall speak to their parents shortly.” Her lips pressed together and she let out a huff of breath. “I only wish their mothers had not already departed.”

  “Thank you, my lady,” Dorie said. “That will save my mother from having to search for them.”

  That gave her ladyship pause. “Hmmm. It might do them a great deal of good. Your mother does have a way with a dressing-down.”

  Recalling the times her mother had put her brothers in their places, she had to agree. “That she does, my lady.”

  “Let me put my mind to this.” Lady Potter glanced at Dorie’s skirts and frowned. “You, however, must go home.”

  “Yes, my lady.” She tugged at Caro’s arm. “Thank you for calling for our carriage.”

  She heard a quickly hushed laugh and glanced in the direction of it. Miss Chatham was looking up adoringly at Lord Exeter. A sharp pain pierced Dorie’s breast. It did not make any sense falling in love with him. Yet she was still convinced that Miss Chatham was not for him. Dorie would have to find someone else for him, but who?

  From the steps of the terrace she saw a lady waving at her. “Joan?”

  “I hoped I would see you here.” She bussed Dorie’s cheek. “Are you leaving so soon?”

  She looked pointedly at her hem. “I had a bit of an accident in a skiff.”

  Joan followed her gaze. “Oh, I see.” Her brow puckered. “Will you be at Lady Bellamny’s ball this evening?”

  Good lord, Dorie had forgotten all about that being tonight. “Of course. I shall see you then.” Caro cleared her throat reminding Dorie that her sister-in-law might not know her friend. “Caro, please meet my old friend Lady Joan Holloway. Joan, my sister-in-law, Caro Huntley.”

  “Pleased to meet you, my lady.” Joan gave a slight curtsey.

  “I thought you weren’t coming this year?” Dorie asked. Joan was two years older than Dorie, but they were neighbors.

  “We were not, but after my youngest brother recovered from the mumps, my mother decided the country did not offer sufficient entertainment.” She glanced around and stopped. “Who is that?”

  Dorie turned and saw Lord Exeter heading her way by himself. “The new Marquis of Exeter. Shall I introduce him?”

  “Please do.” Her friend smiled. “He is very handsome.”

  Dorie bit her lip. Other ladies admiring Exeter should not bother her. But it did. Still, she had said she would see him settled, and Joan would be a much better match for him than Miss Chatham. She had all the required skills and might not object to his sisters. When he stopped to greet them, she said. “Joan, allow me to introduce Lord Exeter. My lord, this is my friend Lady Joan Holloway.”

  He gave an elegant bow. “My lady, it is a pleasure to be made known to any of Lady Dorie’s friends.”

  Joan curtseyed. “Assuming you are also a friend, I agree.” She gave a sly smile. “Will you be attending Lady Bellamny’s ball this evening?”

  “I shall be.” He appeared perplexed for a moment before saying, “I hope you will dance with me.”

  “The first country set is available.” Joan’s eyes twinkled in delight.

  “I shall see you then.” He turned to Dorie. “Would you happen to have the first waltz available?”

  “Yes. I would.” At the moment, she did not wish to spend that much time with Fotheringale.

  * * * *

  Mrs. Chatham had taken charge of her daughter as soon as she stepped onto dry ground. Right after Dorie left with her mother and sister-in-law, Alex grabbed Fotheringale by his shoulder as he tried to follow the ladies. Alex’s hand closed into a fist; it was all he could do not to deliver some home brew. “What the devil were you doing heading into the path of those boats? You could have seriously injured or killed Lady Dorie.”

  “Kill her?” The man’s jaw dropped, then he snapped it shut. “How in the blazes do you think that could have happened?”

  Fotheringale was an idiot. “Even if she can swim, her skirts would have weighed her down. Do you even know how fast one would have to be to get her in time?”

  A muscle in his cheek began to twitch. “I have already begged her forgiveness.”

  Alex wanted to throw the man into the river. “Which she no doubt accepted because she is too polite to tell you to go to the devil.”

  “Exeter.” Littleton reached them as Alex was drawing back his arm to shove his fist into the man’s face or do other damage to Fotheringale.

  Alex took his hand off Fotheringale’s shoulder. “You’d damn well better do more than apologize to her.”

  He went off after Dorie. He wanted to take her into his arms …Hell, he wanted to carry her to her carriage and take her home. His home. Instead, she introduced him to Lady Joan. What the hell did he have to do to make Dorie understand he wanted her, not some random lady? His life was not going as he wanted it to.

  Later that night, Alex decided he was tired of balls. Or balls where he could not dance all evening with Dorie. He would rather have asked her for the supper dance, but he had a duty to Miss Chatham. Lytton had been hovering close to her all evening. If this kep
t up, Alex would have to recruit his friends to dance with her. Dursley had better get back soon to take her off Alex’s hands. But one thing was certain, he would not allow the earl to get anywhere near her.

  He’d not been looking forward to standing up with Lady Joan, but she had been a great deal of fun. She had no artifice at all, said exactly what she thought, and excelled at flirting. Still, she wasn’t Dorie. Even so, she had contrived to get him to ask her for a carriage ride.

  The ballroom was festooned with great swaths of silk and large potted plants were placed along pillars and the walls. Alex chose a spot where he could watch Dorie without the whole world knowing what he was doing. He’d wished his dance with her had never ended. He’d held her a little closer than she should have, but she hadn’t seemed to mind. He had wanted to pull her into his arms and dance out the door with her, then kiss her until she could not refuse him. Something in his chest grew leaden when he saw her with Fotheringale. She’d been spitting angry at him earlier, but would she truly forgive him? Alex still wanted to grab the muttonhead and plant him a facer for not listening to her and not acting to save them. He’d been fully prepared to dive into the river and save her.

  Does she love him?

  Was he the one she had chosen for a husband?

  If so, can I change her mind?

  “You look blue-deviled.” Huntley handed Alex a glass of champagne.

  He tried to keep his gaze from going to Dorie, but it was no good. Wherever she was, he found her. “No matter what I do, she doesn’t notice me.”

  “Oh, I think she notices you.” Her brother shrugged. “Against her will.”

  Alex started to glower at the man, but remembered where he was. “Why against her will?”

  Huntley took a sip of champagne. “You do know that she wants a love match and that she thought she had one last Season.”

  “Yes, I know.” What was love? And how did one find it? Alex was tired of asking that question. Unless he was in love. “How did you fall in love with your wife?”

  A humorous glint entered the man’s eyes. “For most of us, there is a difference between falling in love with a lady and realizing one is in love. I probably fell in love with Caro the first time she dressed me down for arriving too early and turned her back on me.” Huntley chuckled lightly. “Arrogant as I was, I was shocked to receive such a reaction from a lady. I’m sure my mouth was hanging open when she ordered me to stop standing there and follow her.” Grinning, he took another sip of wine. “It was a battle. Dorie’s been hurt, but Caro had been hurt more deeply. I almost lost her because I did not recognize I was in love with her and failed to tell her until it was almost too late.”