The Marquess Meets His Match

by Maggi Andersen

  After they dined, Merry entertained them. And what a fine pianist she was. Guests applauded her from their chairs in the large salon after she’d played Bach and Mozart sonatas with great proficiency. Then whist and other games were played at tables set up for the purpose in the long drawing room.

  She had spent the evening wondering what would happen when she and Robert returned to their allotted bedchamber. And she had to admit she was looking forward to sharing a bed with him. But the bed she lay in was cold on his side. And she supposed he was uncomfortable in his dressing room. In the end, she decided she had to see for herself if he was all right. She slipped from the bed and pulled on her gown and slippers. Tiptoeing down the hall, she turned the latch of his dressing room door. She opened it and peeked inside. The narrow bed was empty.

  Kate spun around and hurried back to her chamber and curled up in the bed shivering. Was he with Arabella? If so, he was lost to her. She bit her lip and stared into the dark.

  *

  Robert strolled the terrace in the moonlight, a cheroot in his hand. Why did Kate always think the worst of him? What might he do when accused of something he was innocent of? His conscience was clear. Dash it all, a man should be able to tumble his wife whenever and wherever it took his fancy. He should not be made to feel guilty.

  A dark shape emerged through the French doors. “Not sleeping, Robert?” Hugh asked coming over to him.

  “No. Gave up trying. Matters in London on my mind.” He eyed the groom. “Nervous?”

  “A little. I am looking forward to the wedding though. Very much.”

  “You have chosen well with Merry. A wonderful married life awaits you.” Robert wondered why it sounded so simple when he put it into words.

  “Yes, I love her dearly.” Hugh shivered. “I fancy a brandy. How about a game of cards?”

  “Excellent idea.” It was love, Robert decided, following Hugh inside. One word which described so much and carried such weight. Relationships could flounder with the lack of it and be splendid if both parties loved one another. He’d seen so little of it among his friends, however. Did he love Kate? He was sure he felt a good deal for her, admiration, respect, desire, but he wasn’t sure if that was love. He knew he would love his child, that would be unconditional. He thought of his mother, how small and frail she looked. How long did he have if he wished to repair the rift?

  As if he was summoned, Robert’s stepfather walked into the room where he and Hugh sat at a card table.

  “I’m not surprised to find you here,” he said drawing up a chair.

  Robert took a sip of his whiskey and swilled it around his mouth as if to remove a sour taste. “Like to explain why?”

  “I can see your wife is unhappy.”

  Robert glared at him. “That’s a bald statement, sir. I wonder how you came to it.”

  “She told your mother so.”

  Hugh cleared his throat.

  Surprised, Robert fought to come up with a response, but Charlesworth stood, bid them a good evening, and left the room.

  Furious, Robert wanted to go after the man and have it out with him. How dare he make observations about Robert’s marriage. But he wouldn’t because Charlesworth spoke the truth. So, Kate had sought his mother’s advice. A further example of her disloyalty. But for some reason he couldn’t direct his anger or his frustration at her. Not anymore. “I’ll take three cards, thanks.”

  Hugh dealt them without comment.

  *

  Brigitte brought a tray of hot chocolate and rolls when Kate woke after a restless sleep. She sipped the rich chocolate while the maid tended to her clothes and chatted about the staff. One footman was very good looking and had all the maids in a flutter.

  The wedding ceremony would take place in the ballroom at ten of the clock. Kate bathed and sat in her petticoats while Brigitte arranged her hair.

  “I need a touch of rouge, Brigitte.” Kate’s face was pale in the morning light, after Brigette applied the hare’s foot. The maid was excellent at her craft. When they returned home, Kate would reward her with the garnet brooch she so admired. Finally, Brigitte stood back to admire her handiwork. “Now the gown, my lady.”

  Kate stood before the mirror. The gown emphasized her small waist, and the color suited her. After pulling on her gloves, she clasped a silver and pearl bracelet around her wrist and pearl earrings to her lobes. A long strand of pearls hung around her neck. She slipped on the buckled shoes. “I believe I shall do.”

  “Magnifique!” Brigitte clapped her hands.

  “Thank you, Brigitte. You have done my hair very nicely.” Kate gave a wry smile, accepting that Brigitte took full credit for the overall result.

  Robert knocked at the door. His brows rose as he offered her his arm. “How well that gown suits you, Kate.”

  “Thank you. Shall we go down?”

  A nervous quiver fluttered in her stomach at the glow of appreciation in his eyes. She banished Lady Elphinstone from her mind. Today was a special day, and she intended to enjoy it.

  In the flower-decked ballroom, they took their seats with the other guests. A three-piece orchestra played Hendel’s water music as Merry, in primrose-yellow brocade, her dark locks dressed in white rosebuds, walked down the aisle on her father’s arm. She looked fresh, young, and very lovely. Her brown eyes shone when she reached Hugh. His were filled with pride, adoration, and love.

  Her father stepped away, and the ceremony commenced.

  Once their vows were spoken, they went to sign the register.

  Kate fought to hold back her tears. She peeked at Robert and found a smile playing on his lips. She tucked a hand through his arm, and he patted it and smiled at her. You couldn’t help but be moved by the endearing couple. A union born out of love was so refreshing in this cynical world. Marriage should not merely be one of convenience or a business partnership, Kate thought. She had been right to refuse to accept it. She walked with Robert into the wedding breakfast where a feast awaited, refusing to glance at Arabella when she passed.

  After toasting the bridal couple with champagne, she danced with Robert and laughed and allowed herself to forget her worries. At least for a while.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Once back in London, Kate spent a good deal of time considering her mother-in-law’s words. Better to fight for what one wanted than moon about. How could she expect Robert to prefer her to Arabella if she was dull and depressing? There was an advantage in being a wife and living under the same roof. How much better it would be if she and Robert spent the day together in some pleasurable activity, and then an evening of lovemaking would follow naturally. As it should.

  With a sense of purpose, she left her bedchamber dressed in a favorite pink gown and descended the stairs to join him for breakfast.

  At the table, Robert wore the royal blue wool suit which accentuated his irresistible blue eyes, a silky cravat at his throat. He was so handsome her heart skittered.

  “You are going out?” Surprised, she accepted a cup of coffee from Soames. She’d expected Robert to spend time with his business manager this morning.

  “Yes. Newmarket. I won’t be home until late. Mercury is running in the autumn race meeting.”

  “Oh, how exciting! I do hope he wins.” She was glad to see him smile, but disappointment tightened her stomach. “Might I come? I should love to see him race.”

  He arched his eyebrows. “Ladies only attend the big society races. My dear, this meet would bore you.”

  “I’m sure it wouldn’t.”

  He regarded her, shaking his head. “My uncle always said there are two places a woman should not go. On board ship and to the races. However, I’m willing to concede that Ascot is an exception.”

  Kate bit her lip. “I can hardly argue the point with your uncle, now can I?”

  “I plan to attend the Jockey Club and I’m afraid ladies are not admitted.” Robert pushed back his chair. He bowed. “If you’ll excuse me, Kate, I must leave. Charles Bart
holomew is taking me up in his phaeton at nine.”

  Despite the reasonableness of his tone, something inside erupted. In the back of her mind, she pictured Arabella strolling on his arm at Newmarket. She took a sharp breath, suddenly filled with an awful anger. Her face grew hot and her fingers trembled with the urge to throw the coffee cup at his head. “Why do you never consult me as to how we might spend the day? I am your wife!” She jumped to her feet. “You are shamefully neglectful.” Her gown swished about her as she moved, and as her chest tightened, she gasped for air.

  Hove hovered at the breakfast room door and then retreated, pulling Soames with him. The door closed.

  Robert stared at her astounded. Then his eyes flickered dangerously. “Your accusation lacks veracity, madam. I have been an exemplary husband these past months! You surely cannot find fault with me when I merely wish for a day at the races with my friends. Friends I have seen little of, as of late.” His eyes narrowed. “Having remained closeted by your side at every social engagement and sensitive to your every need.”

  One need he had not met hovered unspoken in the air. They faced each other in the middle of the room like sparring partners.

  At the look in those hot blue eyes, Kate’s throat closed. She opened her mouth and licked her dry lips, her breaths jerky.

  Robert glanced down at her breasts revealed above the neckline of her gown and then focused on her mouth. He took a step toward her.

  “You are cavalier, sir,” she spat at him when she was finally able to draw breath.

  He reached for her, and his hands burned into her shoulders as he gave them a little shake. “How ungrateful you are!”

  “I ask so little of you.”

  He pulled her closer, glaring down into her face. “You want too much! You want everything.”

  “Everything?” She struggled free, afraid she would cry. “I want a husband who loves me.” She lifted her chin. “That’s all I ever wanted.”

  “And I want a woman I can trust.”

  “Why can’t you trust me? I’ve never done anything to make you believe otherwise.”

  “You think not? Were you with Southmore at Vauxhall?”

  “I never wished for that man’s advances.”

  Robert shrugged off her words. “You want a man gazing at you with calf eyes? Paying you pretty compliments? Making passionate love to you?” He grabbed her arm when she tried to evade him. “If that’s your idea of devotion, we can start right now. I’m happy to oblige you.”

  “Don’t touch me!” She pulled her arm away, now fearful. This wasn’t the tender love she wished for. She saw the purpose in his eyes. “No, Robert.” She backed against the table.

  He stepped closer with a grim smile on his face. “You are my wife, Kate. If I wish to make love to my wife, then I am legally within my rights to do so.”

  She shoved at his chest which was like a brick wall and didn’t budge an inch. The action sent her sliding back onto the table.

  He took her by the waist, bending her back, one hand cupping her chin, and forced his mouth on hers.

  Kate gasped. At the touch of his lips, a swift heat and yearning spread through her body so strong she gasped. She fought the urge to return his kiss and draw him to her. Through the haze of longing, she realized that this would not mend their troubles. It would seal their fate. Her eyes closed as his lips traced a line down her throat to her breast, and he murmured something she didn’t quite catch. When his hand caught up the hem of her gown, she trembled and pushed him away. “The servants will come in!”

  He cast her a heavy-lidded gaze, breathing fast. “Then come to the bedchamber.”

  “Then can we talk?”

  “Talk? Why must women always talk?”

  “You’ve hardly said a word to me since Merry married. Although you were happy to talk and laugh with Lady Elphinstone! And now this! You cannot treat me like a trollop merely here to satisfy your needs!”

  “Was I?” He gazed at her as the lust faded from his eyes and gave a rueful laugh. “You seem to bring out the worst in me, Kate.” He bowed. “I must go. Please excuse me.”

  He strode to the door and opened it, hauling it back on its hinges. She remained as if frozen, listening to his footsteps in the corridor. They sounded so final.

  She left the room, finding her anger had turned to despair.

  Now that she’d cooled down she realized her behavior was even more irrational than his. Why didn’t she agree to go to the bedchamber with him? They might have talked later. Something stopped her, and she knew what it was. With the distinct possibility that he’d made love to Lady Elphinstone in Bath, Kate needed to be sure she meant more to him than just another sexual tryst. To know that their lovemaking sprang from tender feelings of love and not just from lust. She ran to the window in time to see him leap into a carriage. It drove away. Kate admitted defeat. He cared so little for her feelings and nothing she could do would ever put this right.

  She returned to her chamber and rang for her maid.

  “Take out my carriage dress and pack a small trunk for me, please,” she said when Brigitte arrived. “I am retiring to the country for a time.”

  “Will you be away long, my lady?” Going to the clothespress, Brigitte cast a backward glance, eyebrows raised. No doubt much had been made of her and Robert’s behavior in the servants’ quarters already.

  Brigitte would hate the country and drive her mad. “Fetch me paper and a pen first. I will write you a recommendation. The Countess Marchon requires a lady’s maid. She has had her eye on you for some time.”

  Brigitte pouted. “But I prefer to work for you, my lady.”

  “You will enjoy working for a Frenchwoman. I hear she refuses to wear anything but Parisian gowns.”

  “Vraiment? How long will you be gone?”

  “I don’t know. I have the need of fresh air and a good rest.” The excuse seemed apt as she had looked tired of late.

  “Pack my riding habit. Leave the ballgowns. I shan’t be attending any balls or parties.” She sat at her bureau and scratched out a note to the countess, extolling Brigitte’s virtues, and one to Robert, echoing what she had just told her maid. It sounded so rational and sensible she was surprised when she read it again. The words lacked all the emotion and distress that made her ill. Her fingers trembled when she folded it and sealed it with wax. “Please deliver this to my husband’s valet,” she said and handed it to Brigitte.

  After changing into a carriage gown, she calmed herself with several deep breaths, then walked downstairs, passing the footman who’d just taken up his position in the corridor. “How is your gout today, Barker? Has the powdered elm bark helped?”

  He gave a brief, self-conscious smile. “It did, thank you, my lady.”

  Kate fastened her redingote as she made her way to the foyer. “I’d like the coach brought around, Hove. I’m returning to Cornwall for a time.”

  Hove’s polite expression didn’t alter beyond a faint flicker in his eyes. “Very well, my lady. Do you wish to leave a message for his lordship?”

  “I have done so.”

  “You shall be taking your maid?”

  “No. I travel alone.”

  Hove’s eyebrows snapped down, before he recovered himself. Snobbish man, Kate thought crossly. Many of the servants were more conscious of upholding propriety than the ton themselves.

  “It would be wise to have two armed footmen accompany you.”

  “If you consider it necessary, Hove,” she said contritely, chastened by the man’s obvious concern.

  “Highwaymen frequent that route, my lady. One can’t be too careful.”

  “I’m sure you are right.”

  Within the hour, she had said her goodbyes. A footman opened the front door for her and she walked to the coach, already planning ahead. She had a handsome dress allowance, certainly enough to pay for two night’s accommodation. To simplify matters, she would stop at the same inns where she and Robert had stayed. Both were o
f the highest standard. Not that she cared for such things, but it would prove safer.

  *

  Robert arrived home at dusk, his wet coat dripping chilly water down his neck and his Italian leather boots squelching and spattered with mud. It had poured during the race. The track obscured by mist, and Mercury, who took a dislike to the heavy going, ran a distant fourth. The horse pulled up sore and would need to spend time in the paddock. He had cursed himself a thousand times for his treatment of Kate that morning. Why on earth had he not just invited her to join him? He could have forgone a visit to the Jockey Club. It would have been a generous thing to do. Charley Bartholomew would have understood. And it would have pleased him to watch her enjoying herself. Then the awful scene would not have happened. Deuce it! He should have stayed and put things to rights.

  Robert groaned at his cowardice. Yes, cowardice. It hurt to admit it, but he’d refused to face up to anything of late. Not so Kate. She had taken up the reins of her new situation in life with remarkable aplomb. She made a gracious marchioness. He’d failed her there, too. He should have praised her more often. When had he become so mean-spirited?

  He shrugged out of his damp greatcoat. Perhaps it wasn’t too late. He would do so now. His anger at what he saw as her disloyalty when she’d colluded with his mother had melted away. And he could not find it in his heart to believe her of infidelity with Southmore or anyone else. That weasel might pursue her, but she would never welcome it.

  Now capable of clarity of thought, he saw that he was at fault. But would she forgive him? He stripped off his gloves and handed Hove his mahogany cane, coat, and hat. “Where is Lady St. Malin?” he asked, combing his fingers through his hair.

  A gleam appeared in Hove’s eyes. “Why, she’s gone to Cornwall, my lord.”

  Damn the man, why did he look so self-righteous? Robert frowned hardly believing his ears. “Cornwall?”