The Marquess Meets His Match

by Maggi Andersen

  He smiled. “You look charming.”

  His smile warmed her as she took her seat. “Thank you, Robert.”

  He returned to his newspaper as if he’d done what was required of him. “I do like that color on you,” he remarked as he turned the page. “My aunt has done well.”

  “I chose this color.” Kate had hoped for a little praise. She wasn’t unreasonable, but really!

  “Then I commend your taste.” Choosing not to react or either completely unaware of her annoyance, he took up his knife and fork and attacked his breakfast, the Public Advertiser propped up on the table in front of him.

  The footman came forward with the coffee pot and poured her a cup. “Thank you, Soames. It is a lovely morning, isn’t it?”

  Robert lowered his page and raised an eyebrow at her, which she ignored.

  “I love autumn. I should like to visit Hyde Park. The trees are beginning to turn their glorious colors.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Soames said. “Cook has put up some new preserves. The strawberry is especially good.” The footman’s ears reddened. “So I’m told.”

  “Then I must try it. I’m very fond of strawberry jam. Thank you, Soames.”

  After the footman left the room, Robert sighed and picked up his coffee cup. “I suppose reminding you not to chat with the staff will fall on deaf ears?”

  She nodded. Robert had become quite stuffy since they’d reached London. Her fault perhaps. She pushed the thought away. It was a perfectly beautiful day, and she loved her new gown.

  “When will your ball gown arrive?” he asked.

  “Madame said within a few days.”

  “We are to attend a ball on Saturday. I expect the king and queen to be there.”

  Kate gasped. “My goodness!”

  “I gather you have never seen them?”

  She released an exasperated breath. “Actually, they came to tea one summer.”

  He glanced up from his newspaper with a grin. “They did?”

  “Of course, they didn’t. What should I do when I’m presented?”

  He wiped his mouth with a linen napkin. “Smile and make sure you curtsey low.”

  Her cheeks grew hot. “Of course, but what else is expected of me?”

  “They will have been told about our marriage. My uncle was a royal envoy and quite close to the royal family. They may wish to know more about you. Just answer their questions. It won’t be too difficult.”

  “Not for you who were born to it!” She bit her lip to keep herself from saying something she’d regret. “I shall try.”

  He smiled. “I’ll be there with you. Don’t worry.” He reached across and patted her hand. “You do look quite lovely this morning.”

  She propped her chin in her hand and studied him. His thick dusky lashes shadowed his cheek as he read his paper, and she liked how his dark hair curled back from his forehead. “What do you plan to do today?”

  “I’m off to the races. I have a horse running.”

  “How exciting. What is its name?”

  “Mercury.”

  “Does he have wings on his heels?”

  A spark brightened the blue depths of his eyes. “I do hope so.” He folded his newspaper, pushed back his chair, and rose. “If you’ll excuse me, Kate, I have some work to do before I leave.”

  “Shall I see you at dinner?”

  “No. Forgive me. I have a dinner engagement with an old friend. I have been absent from London for some time and must catch up with acquaintances. But as soon as your evening gowns arrive, our nights will become very full.”

  Another night spent alone. Kate swallowed a retort, knowing whatever she said would sound querulous and unreasonable. He had given her so much and been very honest about what their relationship would be.

  After breakfast, from an upstairs window, she watched Robert leave in a carriage. She roamed St. Malin House, her silk house slippers echoing along the corridors. Pausing to chat with Barker, she promised to purchase the elm bark as soon as she could.

  She trailed along the portrait gallery, studying each member of the family. She found a portrait of her godfather which made him appear sterner than ever. A trait to be found in many relations, it seemed.

  The marble statues in the niches on the staircase drew her eye on her way to the salon. Then she whiled away the hour studying the exquisite Limoges and Sèvres porcelain displayed in walnut cabinets.

  Further restless hours were spent wandering in and out of the house to walk in the manicured gardens or watching the birds washing in the fountain from the wide stone terrace. A footman insisted on opening the door for her each time even though she told him she could manage quite well herself. After she implored him to leave it to her, a pained expression appeared on Hove’s face. The poor footman, a stranger to her, of which there were several, grew red in the cheeks, so she returned to her bedchamber and read until luncheon.

  A house full of servants was foreign to her. At home in Oxfordshire, their cook, Mrs. Morrison and the two maids, Sarah, and Anne, and Nanny of course, were like family, they’d been with them for so long. It had been very hard to see them off to new positions, along with Jim, who did for them in the garden.

  While it was nice to have her every need met, almost before she thought of it, it was difficult to relax and be herself.

  Two days later, three more of her gowns arrived including her ballgown, which produced a flurry of initial excitement, but after trying each of them on, Kate grew restless. She sat down to read while Brigitte folded Kate’s new nightgowns fashioned in white lawn.

  “I once worked for a lady who was the mistress of a duke,” Brigitte said.

  “Did you?” Kate idly turned the pages of a fashion magazine, pausing to admire a woman’s outfit much like a gentleman’s regimental coat decorated with epaulets and worn with a waistcoat, skirt, and cocked hat. She loved it, but doubted she was tall enough to carry it off.

  “Oui. And the nightgowns she wore, Mon dieu!”

  Kate looked up. “Oh? What were they like?”

  “Lace as sheer as gossamer in crimson and black.”

  Kate’s interest was piqued. “Did the Duke visit her at home?”

  Brigitte laughed. “Tout à fait. He brought her diamond bracelets, champagne, and red roses.”

  Kate thrust the magazine away. “Did she flirt with him?”

  “Oui!” Brigitte put down the nightgown and began to sway her hips provocatively, moving around the room. “She danced for him in her nightgown while he sat and watched and drank champagne. Spellbound he was. She touched herself as she danced.” Brigitte waved her hand over various parts of her body. “Then poof! He would dismiss me.” She nodded sagely. “She knew how to please a man, that one.”

  “My goodness.” Could she ever be that seductive? Kate’s pulse raced at the thought. She could not imagine her mother behaving like that for the life of her. Why her father would have died of the apoplexy. But what would Robert do if she acted that way? Robert was nothing like her father.

  In the afternoon, Kate took the landau to Regent Street with the maid accompanying her. She had no one to shop for but herself and Robert. She picked out a silk robe for him and almost bought it, then decided it was too intimate. Since all his clothes were specially made, what could she find that he would treasure? She finally settled on a small enameled snuff box with a horse painted on it. Perhaps it looked like Mercury. She bought Lady Susan a Norwich shawl, Brigitte a pair of embroidered fingerless gloves which delighted her, and some spring green ribbons for a new hat. She found the elm bark powder, and as soon as they returned home, gave it to Barker who quite lost his voice in effusive thanks.

  Even when Robert was home, he was busy working in the library. The days passed as their first official engagement grew closer. Kate was in a fever of excitement and nerves whenever she thought of it. It would be better to keep busy. What did people do in London? She might visit the famous sights, but a lady did not go about unescorted, an
d it would prove uninspiring without someone with whom to share it. Robert had said that after she’d been introduced to the Royal family, they would soon begin to receive callers, but this prospect only served to unnerve her further.

  In her chamber, she took out her small knife and whittled the pieces of driftwood she’d brought with her. Her grandfather had been a sculptor and taught her to carve creatures and flowers from wood.

  She already had a display along her fireplace mantel: a fox peered out from a bush; a rabbit sat, ears almost twitching; a wren rested on a branch.

  An hour later, she put the piece down. It now bore a closer resemblance to a horse jumping a log. She wondered if she would ever be confident enough to show Robert her work. Business had taken him to Vauxhall again. He seemed to have settled back into the life he led before they were married. It didn’t seem likely he would visit her bedchamber any time soon.

  Saturday came, this evening she was to be presented to the king and queen. She had practiced her deep curtsey and her dance steps every day in readiness. Fortunately, attending the Oxford assembly had made her proficient in all the dances.

  Robert joined her for dinner, which progressed under the vigilant eye of Hove and two footmen.

  She sought to draw him into conversation, wishing he didn’t always appear distracted or disinterested. “Did you achieve much in Vauxhall today?”

  He took a helping of roast fillet of beef from the dish the footman held. “The pottery business isn’t doing well. I’ve employed a new manager. We are considering ways to improve it before I sell it.”

  “Does the factory make plates like these?” Pleased to have something to talk about, Kate gestured to the handsome gold-rimmed plate before her, aware that some families back home still ate from pewter plates with wooden utensils and not the gleaming silverware that adorned the table.

  “No. But I don’t see why we shouldn’t consider bone china,” Robert mused. “We have access to the materials, Kaolinite—that’s clay, and access to the slaughter houses for bone…. Hard though, to compete with Europe and China.” He lapsed into silence.

  Kate pushed food around her plate, her mind refusing to produce anything of note to gain his attention. She would have to read up on pottery, perhaps there was a book in the library.

  Robert took a sip from his wine glass. “Are you looking forward to this evening?”

  Her throat tightened, and she put down her knife and fork. “Yes and no.”

  A glimmer lit Robert’s eyes. “Yes… and no?”

  She twisted the corner of her napkin. “I shall enjoy meeting people, of course. But will they like me?”

  “Some will. Some might not but will be too well mannered to express it.”

  She glowered at him. “That doesn’t reassure me, Robert.”

  “It’s not about you, personally, Kate. Remember that. Some have old-fashioned views.”

  “You mean they disapprove of you marrying beneath you.”

  “Those who knew and liked my uncle, and there are many, won’t let such a thing concern them.” He smiled. “And I have every confidence in you.”

  “Thank you, Robert. I don’t seem to have much appetite. If you’ll excuse me, I shall go and dress.”

  Robert stood and bowed.

  It would have helped considerably if he’d given her a reassuring hug. Her nerves stretched thin, Kate entered her bedchamber. Brigitte stood at the mantel, examining her artwork. “I much admire this new piece you’ve carved, my lady,” she said. “It looks so lifelike.”

  Kate was absurdly pleased. “Thank you, Brigitte.” A wave of homesickness swept over her. Her life in Oxfordshire had been filled with love and affection. Her father had always been there to lean on. She felt his loss even more keenly since she’d come here.

  Brigitte had her bath ready in the boudoir. Kate relaxed in the perfumed water as the maid swept a soapy sponge over her back. She hoped Robert would think her beautiful tonight in her new gown. She longed for him to gaze at her with love but had begun to doubt that he ever would. Might he have a mistress? She had heard married gentlemen often took mistresses. She suspected Robert would be no different, and her spirits plummeted. She batted the thought away. She would not allow anything to spoil her first social occasion. She was to meet the king and queen, she still couldn’t believe what her life had become since meeting Robert.

  She stepped from the hip bath, and Brigitte wrapped her in a towel. A knock came at the door. “Good heavens, who is that? Hand me my robe.” Kate dropped the towel and held up her arms, about to don the dressing gown Brigitte held up for her when the door to her bedchamber opened, and Robert strode in. He stopped at the threshold of her boudoir.

  “I beg your pardon.” His voice sounded oddly strained.

  With a quick about face, he retreated as Kate pulled on the robe. “Please come to the yellow salon when you’re dressed,” he called. “I have something for you.”

  “Yes, Robert,” Kate said somewhat pointlessly as he’d left, shutting the door behind him. Trembling, she turned to the mirror and discovered she was flushed from her cheeks down to her breasts. She sank onto the satin chaise to gain her breath.

  “Oh, my lady, did you see the look on his lordship’s face? I don’t know why he didn’t come in. He obviously wanted to.” Brigitte giggled and put a hand to her mouth. “Pardon, my lady.”

  Had Robert wanted to? She wished she knew.

  Brigitte assisted her into her shift, linen pannier, and petticoats. A pale pink embroidered corset cinched in her waist and made her gasp, pushing up her breasts. She stepped into the quilted petticoat.

  Seated before the mirror, the maid lightly powdered and combed Kate’s hair over a foundation, arranging side curls and a garniture of pearls and imitation roses to the tall creation. Her face was then powdered with a hare’s foot and lip rouge and color were added to her mouth and cheeks.

  “Now the gown, my lady, à la française,” Brigitte said in a hushed voice.

  The moss green silk gown was brocaded in pink and gold roses with a flounce of lace at her elbows. The low neckline dipped alarmingly. Kate slipped her feet into the shoes and raised her skirts to admire her matching green ribbed silk toes.

  She turned before the mirror barely recognizing herself.

  Brigitte picked up a fan painted with flowers. “And the fan, my lady. No lady is without one. You must flirt with it.”

  “Flirt?”

  “Like this.” Brigitte opened the fan, displaying a lovely painted rural scene and fluttered it before her face. “Like a coquette, oui?”

  “I suppose so,” Kate said doubtfully.

  “It is called the amorous flutter,” Brigitte said, warming to her theme. “There is also the angry flutter, like this.” She snapped it shut. “The modest miss, oui, like this? A merry lady, like this….”

  She expertly twirled the fan.

  “Oh stop,” Kate said, laughing. “I shall never feel comfortable doing any of that.”

  “But that is the way of society ladies,” Brigitte said. “I learnt it in France from the Countess De Avignon.”

  “Well, perhaps I’ll ease into it gradually,” Kate added after a disappointed moue appeared on Brigitte’s lips.

  Brigitte immediately brightened, handing her the fan and her beaded reticule which contained a handkerchief, a small notepad and pencil, a tiny mirror, comb, perfume, and Robert’s present.

  Her gloves in her hand, she descended the marble staircase to the salon, gracefully, she hoped. Robert waited, resting an arm along the mantel, holding the bell shape of a brandy glass to his lips.

  His eyes widened, and he spluttered as the brandy went down the wrong way. She was gratified to see his gaze roam appreciatively from her head to her feet, lingering on her bosom in the low-necked gown. His hot glance made her blush. “You look beautiful, Kate.”

  She curtsied. “Thank you, Robert. So do you.”

  He raised a brow, his lips curving into a smile. “Beau
tiful?”

  She clasped her hands together in front of her. “Fine-looking, I mean.”

  He came toward her, his cream silk frock coat swinging gracefully above long, well-shaped legs encased in dark smallclothes. A diamond sparkled in the lace folds at his throat.

  High-heeled jeweled shoes made him very tall. He still wore the black arm-band in memory of his uncle. It was the first time she’d seen him in a white wig with his face powdered, oddly it made him even more masculine because it defined his high cheekbones, blade-like nose, and strong jaw. A black patch was placed at the corner of his mouth.

  A strange heavy sensation settled in her stomach that was ever-present when he was near, nerves but something else, too, desire. She didn’t trust his restrained elegance. He reminded her of a panther held by fragile silken bonds. Never to be tamed.

  He snapped open the lid of a velvet box. Nestled inside was a parure of diamonds, consisting of a breathtaking necklace, earrings, brooch, and bracelet.

  Kate gasped. “Oh, my!”

  “Turn around, my dear.”

  He removed the sparkling necklace from the box and placed the cold gems around her throat. She tamped down a shiver at the soft touch of his fingers on the nape of her neck. He handed her the box. “I’ll let you put the ear-bobs on yourself.”

  Kate stood before the gilt-framed mirror above the fireplace. She shook her head, and the diamonds swung from her ears, catching the light in a myriad of colors. With a grin, she leaned forward and touched them with a finger.

  She pirouetted to show him. “Do you approve?”

  “Magnifique.” He chuckled at her high spirits and came to clasp the bracelet around her wrist. “The gown is perfect for you. I must write and thank my aunt.”

  “I shall, too. I bought her a shawl, yesterday. We must invite her to dinner.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “That was thoughtful.”

  Kate opened her reticule. “I bought something for you, too, Robert.”