Never Kiss a Notorious Marquess

by Renee Ann Miller

  Almost violently, he grasped her shoulders and jerked her body to his.

  Her heart beat fast. “My lord, what do you think you’re about?”

  “Madam,” he said, his teeth clenched, “the clasp on your chatelaine has snagged the front of my trousers. Kindly allow me to unhook it so you may step away without ripping my clothes.”

  Without thought, Caroline slipped her hand between them, reaching for the end of the chain from which her coin purse normally hung and gave it a tug.

  His lordship made a noise, a groan that seemed to originate from the depth of his throat. His long fingers clasped hers, stilling them. He bent his head close. His breath feathered across her face.

  Heat prickled her skin.

  “Miss Armoire, what are you doing?” His voice was low and raspy, a bit uneven.

  “I’m trying to help.”

  “I assure you, madam, you’re not helping. Now, please stop.” His angular face looked suddenly carved of granite.

  Realizing her foolishness, she jerked her hand away.

  His lordship stood absolutely still, then he exhaled loudly, and resumed trying to unhitch the clasp. “There. I’ve got it.” He stepped back and buttoned his riding coat closed. “I suggest you return to bed before you swoon.”

  She set a hand on her hip. “I shan’t faint again. I have never done so before yesterday.”

  “You must realize you are in no condition to travel.”

  Hard to argue that point. She needed to rest a bit longer. Surely, cousins Anne and Charles wouldn’t arrive in London yet. Anne’s note said Charles’s mother was ill, delaying her chaperones for several days.

  “You know I’m right,” his lordship said, interrupting her thoughts.

  “Yes. It appears I must rely on your kindness for at least another day. And I do wish to send a note to London. To my aunt, who is a servant in Mayfair.”

  “A wise decision. Now, I think it best you eat something when the maid returns with your breakfast, and I’m sure my sister, who is also in residence, has a nightgown you could wear. If you want anything else”—he pointed to the bell rope—“a member of my staff will be more than willing to bring you whatever you require.”

  * * *

  James exited the bedchamber and released a slow breath. Blood still pooled in his manhood. Had the minx even realized she’d accidentally brushed her fingers against the front of his trousers?

  Could anyone be that naïve?

  Obviously, one who wished to join a religious order. Thank God, the woman was bound for a convent. She needed sequestering for her own safety and to ease the discomfort of any poor male who crossed her path. Either God wished to punish him, or Lucifer wished to tempt him. It could be the only explanation for Caroline Armoire ending up in his house.

  Caroline Armoire. Doubtful that was her name. Her green eyes had lit up when they’d settled on the piece of furniture. She was hiding something. Future nuns didn’t go to suffragist meetings. Perhaps she doubted her commitment to such a calling.

  James stepped into his bedchamber and shrugged out of his coat.

  Someone knocked on his bedchamber door. Reilly, of course. His valet was most punctual. “Yes, enter.”

  The man stepped into the room and grinned like a buffoon.

  Agitation stirred in James. “Well, go ahead and tell me what’s got you looking so jolly.”

  “I don’t think you want to know.”

  Most of the servants moved about James as if walking on eggshells, but Reilly and he had grown up together. Reilly’s father had been the family’s coachman. As children, they’d fished and explored Essex together—mostly on the sly since James’s father wouldn’t have approved of their friendship. His valet probably knew more about him than anyone else, even his siblings and closest friends. The man also kept him informed about what the servants whispered belowstairs.

  “Bloody hell, stop smiling and tell me what you’ve heard. Is it about Anthony or Nina?”

  It seemed impossible, but Reilly’s grin broadened. “Neither.”

  “Good Lord, not Georgie?”

  “No. Though the gardener did say he caught Master George peeing on the tulips yesterday. When asked why, your youngest brother replied they looked parched.”

  James groaned. He didn’t know if he could survive raising another hellion comparable to Anthony. If the tale didn’t center on Anthony, Nina, or Georgie, it must be about him. “If you’re smirking because the gossips say I pushed that woman, you’re a day late with that tidbit.”

  James walked into the adjoining bathing room. He peered in the mirror and scrubbed a hand down his dark morning bristle. He looked a bit uncivilized when unshaven. Quite shocking his houseguest hadn’t screamed when she’d seen him this morning or during the night.

  Reilly followed him into the room, picked up a razor, and sharpened it. “You look wretched. Couldn’t sleep?”

  The expression plastered on Reilly’s face clearly implied something. Had a servant observed him carrying Miss Armoire into her room during the night? Or had they just presumed something scandalous was going on? Neither boded well for her or him. He laughed aloud. That was all he needed, people whispering he’d corrupted a nun.

  Reilly stared at him. “What’s so humorous?”

  “She’s a nun. Or will be. At least that’s what she said.”

  “Crikey, no? The footman who carried her mentioned she has the face of an angel.”

  James gave a mumble of agreement. He’d thought the same thing.

  “Well,” Reilly said, “they say God works in mysterious ways. Perhaps she’s here to save all our souls.”

  A chill chased down James’s back. He had the oddest premonition she was there to destroy what little remained of his.

  Chapter Four

  James entered the dining room to find both Nina and Anthony seated and flanking his chair at the head of the table. What were they doing up? An inane question. He knew the answer. Curiosity about the new houseguest had roused his siblings from the comfort of their beds. Once he informed them Miss Caroline Armoire wouldn’t be joining them, they’d probably slip back into the warmth between their sheets.

  “Morning.” He moved to the sideboard, picked up a plate, and surveyed the silver chafing dishes.

  “Good morning,” they responded in unison.

  Approaching footfalls sounded in the corridor.

  Nina and Anthony craned their heads toward the doorway. His brother brushed his fingers through his dark hair, preening like a peacock, while his sister smoothed the skirt of her purple dress.

  With a spring in his step, Georgie entered the room.

  Anthony made a blustery noise that betrayed his disappointment, and Nina’s shoulders sagged.

  Mouth gaping, Georgie stared at Anthony and Nina as he moved to the sideboard.

  James ruffled his youngest sibling’s brown hair and handed the child an empty plate.

  Georgie jerked his head toward his brother and sister. “What are they doing here?”

  “Eating,” Anthony replied before shoveling a fork loaded with egg into his mouth.

  Nina tipped her nose in the air. “Are not Anthony and I allowed to join you and James for breakfast?”

  “You never have before.” Georgie surveyed the scones and licked his lips.

  “If you’re waiting for our houseguest, you will be sorely disappointed,” James said, sitting with a dish laden with sliced tomatoes, sausage, and eggs. “Miss Armoire is taking breakfast in her room.”

  Anthony’s eyes widened. “Miss Armoire? Oh, she is French! How intriguing. Though I only saw her briefly before a footman carried her off, she looked to be a real peach. An incomparable.”

  The muscles in James’s body tensed. He leaned close to Anthony and whispered, “If you attempt to taste that peach, dear brother, you’ll have to contend with me.”

  Anthony pressed the tips of his fingers to his chest and flashed an expression of indignation. “Me? I’m dearly o
ffended.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you are,” James said dryly. “I’m warning you, Anthony . . .”

  Georgie arrived at the table, his plate stacked with scones, clotted cream, raspberry preserves, and one egg. He glared at his sister.

  “What is the matter? Do I have food on my face?” Nina snatched her napkin off her lap and feverishly dabbed at her mouth.

  “You’re in my seat,” Georgie replied.

  “Oh, is that all?” She waved a hand at the empty chairs. “There are plenty of others. I surely didn’t see your name engraved on this one.”

  “But I always sit next to James at breakfast.”

  Nina sniffed. “Well, not today, little man. Anyway, when I was your age Mama and Papa made Anthony and me eat in the nursery. I don’t understand why James allows you to dine with us.”

  Agitation welled up inside James. Their mother had died within months of giving birth to Georgie, and sometimes James thought his sister blamed their youngest sibling. “Nina, that’s enough. Georgie, for today would you be good enough to take a different chair, since your sister and brother are already seated?”

  The child eyed the vacant chair next to Nina, then marched around the table and sat next to Anthony.

  Nina pinned James with a hard look. “Who is this Miss Armoire, and why have you seen fit to place her in Henriet . . . I mean in the bedchamber next to yours?”

  “Yes, that’s what I wish to know,” Anthony said.

  “Miss Armoire tripped and injured her head while attending Beatrice Walker’s speech. Dr. Clark suggested she rest for a few days before traveling. That is all. Nothing more.”

  “That still doesn’t explain why she’s cloistered away in the west wing with you. You never put guests there.” Nina pursed her lips.

  James pierced a sausage with his fork and eyed the rogue sitting next to him. “The woman is under my protection. As such, I thought it prudent to place her closer to my suite of rooms.”

  “Quite drastic, if you ask me,” Anthony grumbled.

  Nina leaned closer to James. “Is she from London?”

  He nodded.

  His sister smiled. “Did she reveal if she has ever attended a ball? Has she danced a waltz? Did her partners hold her close?” Nina’s voice had become a tantalized whisper.

  James sighed. Next year, if Nina made her bow before the Queen, he wanted her to wed a man who would love her. If she didn’t mature, she’d choose to marry some scoundrel like Anthony who would break her heart and shatter her romantic dreams.

  “Nina, the woman is unwell. We didn’t converse about balls or gentlemen, and I doubt she cares a whit about the season.”

  “Doesn’t care a whit about the season,” Nina echoed with disbelief. “I very much doubt that.”

  Best to inform his siblings what their houseguest had said about becoming a nun. Whether it was true or not. “The woman is to join a religious order in the near future.”

  Anthony choked on his food.

  Georgie jumped up from his chair and smacked his brother between the shoulder blades, while Anthony set a fisted hand to his mouth and coughed.

  James handed him a goblet of water. “Drink, before you asphyxiate.”

  Wide-eyed, Anthony gulped at the liquid. “You mean a nun?”

  “Yes. So don’t you even think about sniffing around her door. She requires rest.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it. Not now. But I must say it’s a shame.”

  Nina yawned and stood. “How dreadfully dull. I’m going back to bed.”

  “I wish you would,” Georgie said. “Then I could have my chair back.”

  Nina narrowed her eyes at Georgie, then swung her angry gaze to James. “I don’t understand why I couldn’t make my come out this year. I’ll be eighteen in August.”

  His sister acted as if she teetered on the precipice of spinsterhood. She was still a child. At least there were times she acted as petulant as one.

  “Perhaps next year, dear.”

  “You are such a tyrant,” she yelled and stormed from the room.

  * * *

  Caroline awoke and tipped her head up to glance around the bedchamber. Shadows were settling about the room as the sun faded. She’d slept nearly the whole day. She glanced at the chair where the maid had sat the night before. Empty.

  Several light taps sounded against the door. Sitting, Caroline pulled the counterpane to her chest. “Yes, come in.”

  A young woman with dark hair, dressed in a lavender gown fashioned with swags and lace, swished her skirts through the door and closed it behind her. The woman pressed her index finger to her lips. “Shh, I don’t wish James to know I’m in here.”

  “James? Do you mean Lord Huntington?” Caroline asked.

  The woman nodded.

  “I assure you he’s not in here.”

  The girl pointed to a door at the side of the room. “Yes, but his bedchamber is just beyond the private sitting room that separates this chamber from his.”

  “Really?” Caroline pulled the counterpane farther up.

  The woman, who looked to be a few years younger than herself, narrowed her soft brown eyes. “You didn’t know?”

  “No, I did not.”

  “Then you aren’t James’s lover?”

  Caroline nearly choked. “I—am—not.” She enunciated each word. “I think you’ve mistaken the situation.”

  “I thought perhaps it was some ruse. So it’s true, you are to be a nun? James wasn’t lying?”

  “Might I ask who you are?”

  “I’m Nina. James’s sister.”

  “I assure you, until yesterday, I’d never set eyes on your brother.”

  Nina moved to a delicate gilded chair and dragged it across the thick-carpeted floor to the side of the bed. “You don’t mind if we talk, do you?” she asked, sitting.

  Caroline dashed the sleep from her eyes. “Ah . . . of course not.”

  “I hear you reside in London.”

  “I do.”

  “Before you decided to join a religious order, did you attend any balls?”

  “Um . . . a few,” Caroline replied.

  Nina’s eyes widened, and she shifted closer to the edge of the chair. “Really?” The girl sounded intrigued. “How splendid. Do tell. Are the gentlemen who attend handsome? Are the gowns breathtaking? Does one’s dance card fill up quickly? I wish to know it all. Please don’t spare the slightest detail.”

  The girl was positively infatuated. Why anyone would be anxious to have their family parade them about like chattel was beyond Caroline’s comprehension. Truthfully, it was degrading.

  After Mama’s death and Caroline’s period of mourning at her grandparents’ home in Northumberland, she’d attended several balls with her cousins last season. The gentlemen had examined her as if she were a broodmare at Tattersalls. They’d done everything but lift her upper lip to inspect her teeth. Then they’d conversed with her as if she didn’t possess a brain. She’d eventually feigned headaches so she wouldn’t have to attend. If she married, she didn’t want a man who treated her like Papa had treated Mama.

  The next article she wrote would be about this antiquated ritual that gave men all the power. She opened her mouth, then snapped it closed. Lord Huntington already seemed agitated by her presence. Best not to reveal her true opinion of the marriage mart to his sister. Ruffling his lordship’s feathers might have him storming into the room, irate.

  “Please, tell me what it’s like to waltz.” Nina’s eyes sparkled with anticipation.

  “Well, waltzing can be pleasant.” She omitted the fact that some of the younger bucks, who were learning to dance, could be clumsy and step on their partners’ toes.

  His lordship’s sister set a hand to her bosom and appeared quite ready to swoon. “Is the conversation titillating?”

  Indeed, if one favored talking about the weather until unbearable ennui set in. “Um, yes.”

  “Is the bustle still de riguer? Is pink in vogue?”r />
  The bustle was a ridiculous style that made sitting in comfort nearly impossible. Surely, a man who didn’t care for women had invented it. “Yes, it’s still in fashion, and I believe pink is expected to be all the rage with debutantes this year.”

  “I adore pink!” Nina squealed, then clapped a hand over her mouth as she peered at the side door.

  “Is your brother in his bedchamber?”

  Nina waved her hand in the air. “I don’t believe so. This morning he went outside to work with the grounds staff like a common laborer, and I haven’t seen him since.”

  A peer of the realm attending his own land? That would explain his athletic physique. How interesting. She glanced at the window. The sky was nearly dark. If his lordship hadn’t already returned, he would soon.

  “Do you think I’ll be asked to dance?” Nina’s question broke into Caroline’s thoughts.

  The young woman possessed handsome features. Dark hair and large brown eyes. “Oh, I’m sure the gentlemen will line up for a chance to be added to your dance card.”

  Nina’s face lit up. “Really?”

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  “It all sounds so magical.” Nina let out a soft sigh.

  Magical, ha! Caroline fought the urge to tell his lordship’s sister what she really thought. “Are you to attend the season this year?” Caroline prayed they wouldn’t meet in London. What a disaster that would be.

  The woman’s expression tumbled, and her eyes shone with tears. “James doesn’t wish me to make my come out this year. So I must wait. I fear he is content to rusticate in the country. I doubt he’ll even go to London whenever I do make my bow. I believe he doesn’t want to return to his town house because that’s where it happened.”

  “What happened?”

  “Where . . .” Approaching footfalls in the corridor silenced Nina. The young woman’s gaze wheeled to the door. She jerked to her feet, lifted the chair, and quietly set it back. Fingers pressed to her lips, she glanced nervously about the chamber. Fisting her hands in her skirts, she ducked behind the side of the armoire.

  The footsteps stopped outside the door. Then picked up again, growing lighter as they moved away.

  Nina slinked back to the bed and took Caroline’s hands in hers. “That’s James. I must go.” She crept to the door and inched it open. Smiling, she waved good-bye as she tiptoed out of the room.