A Game 0f Chess With The Marquess (Historical Regency Romance)

by Patricia Haverton

  But the Duke had always been kind to her, if distant. Lenora liked serving him. To leave his household with Lady Katherine would be a definite disappointment.

  And then there was the fact that she would be losing the only home she had ever known. How would she say goodbye to her little chamber, the only place that she had ever felt belonged to her? She had spent so many hours tucked away beneath the vaulted roof sewing new dresses and staring out the window. What if she was forced to say goodbye to the manor? She would never see her room again.

  And she would never see Jimmy again, or Mr. Henderson the butler. The only people, Lenora thought, who truly cared for her. She couldn’t possibly do without them.

  She felt sure the Duke would never dismiss her from his employ. But what if he decided she could be of more use as a lady’s maid to his daughter?

  Of course, Lady Katherine will never want me for her lady’s maid, Lenora thought. That was certainly the truth. Lady Katherine despised Lenora. She would be almost as distraught as Lenora herself if the Duke suggested Lenora as a lady’s maid for her.

  There was probably nothing to fear.

  Lenora finished washing the dishes in the sink. She stepped back toward the door and the keyhole, moving quietly, hoping not to attract attention and be assigned another chore. She wanted to peek out again, to see who was arriving now and whether she could catch a glimpse of Lady Katherine.

  There!

  Her Lady spun past the ballroom door, held in the embrace of a lord Lenora did not recognize. She saw that he was tall, strong looking, with soft mahogany hair. He was incredibly handsome. Would this gentleman be the one to claim Lady Katherine’s hand? Lenora only saw them for a moment, but that was long enough to register the way Lady Katherine was looking up into her partner’s eyes. She was captivated, Lenora realized. Whether by his looks or his conversation, Lady Katherine was completely mesmerized.

  Lenora had never seen her Lady look like that before.

  She’s chosen, Lenora thought, watching her sail out of view. She’s made her choice. She will ask her father for a marriage contract with that gentleman, whoever he is. And the Duke would acquiesce. He would never deny his beloved daughter. The rest of the balls might as well be cancelled. The rest of the suitors might as well go home now. The decision was as good as made.

  And, Lenora had to admit, Lady Katherine had chosen well. The gentleman really was astonishingly good looking. She would admit to wondering whether Lady Katherine would have taken anyone—no matter how unattractive, ill mannered, or dull he might have been—as long as his wealth and station were pleasing to her. But she seemed to have found a good match.

  Suddenly wanting no further part of the ball, Lenora retreated from the knot in the wood, thinking to retire upstairs to her room. She had seen what she had come to see—the guests in their beautiful attire, the dancing, the decor. She had enough memories of the ball tonight that she would be able to reconstruct it in her head for weeks to come. She would be able to dwell comfortably in daydreams of balls, balls that she had been invited to attend. She would be able to imagine dancing across the floor in the arms of a gentleman like the one Lady Katherine was with right now.

  It was enough. She didn’t want to watch the ball end. She didn’t want to see all the lords and ladies leave. She didn’t want to see how much time Lady Katherine spent with the gentleman she’d chosen.

  Why did she suddenly feel so sad?

  “Lenora,” the cook snapped, “take this platter out to the dining room.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “You heard what I said. Dinner will be served shortly, and it’s time to prepare the table. Take the soup. And mind you don’t spill any, Her Grace won’t like that a bit.”

  “But—” Lenora shook her head. “I can’t take the soup to the dining room.”

  “And why not, may I ask?”

  “They’ll see me.” Her fingers flew automatically to her eyepatch. “The guests will see me.”

  “The guests know there are servants in the house,” the cook said. “Someone has to take the food out.”

  “You know Her Grace won’t like to know I’ve been down here.”

  “A thing you perhaps should have considered before spending all evening down here.” The cook thrust the soup into Lenora’s arms. “Take it out now. If you go quickly, you may avoid being seen. If you tarry, the guests will begin making their way into the dining room and you’ll be sure to be noticed.”

  There was nothing to be done. Lenora edged her way out into the foyer, hoping desperately that she would not be seen. Fortunately, it seemed that no more guests were arriving, at least for the moment. The stream of lords and ladies that had been flowing from the manor’s entrance through the foyer and into the ballroom had slowed to a trickle. Lenora hurried across the foyer and into the dining room, hugging the soup to her chest.

  Although the doors between the dining room and the ballroom stood wide open, affording the people in each room a perfectly good view of the other, Lenora knew that if she stayed close to the walls she wouldn’t be seen. It was a difficult decision. She longed to stand in the center of the dining room, where the view would be best, and take in the sight of the ball. The urge to retreat to her room had not left her, but the ball was right there before her. Surely a little peek couldn’t hurt anything?

  No, she must complete the task she had been sent here for. If the Duchess were to see Lenora right now, she might be upset at her presence, but she would understand that Lenora had been sent to deliver soup. She would not be angry. But if she were to find Lenora standing like an oaf and staring at the ball, it would be a different matter altogether.

  Lenora settled the soup gently on the table, pleased with herself for not having spilled a drop. The cook had filled the serving dish all the way to the brim. Lenora allowed herself a moment to lean over and inhale deeply. The soup smelled spicy and delicious, but not as wonderful as the stews she often made at the end of a night’s work with leftover ingredients from the family’s supper. Evening Stew, as the cook called it, was prepared in the largest kettle in the kitchen, and any member of the staff was allowed to help themselves to a bowl before retiring. It was Lenora’s favorite part of the day.

  This soup was a different matter. It had been prepared, Lenora knew, with the aim of impressing the ton. It was French, probably, and something nobody here would have tasted before. An exciting experience for the assembled lords and ladies. But it would not be filling, nor would it be a comfort.

  For the first time all evening, Lenora realized, she was not envious of the attendees of the ball. They would have this soup, and that was very fine. But she would have the cook’s stew tonight, and that was better.

  A bell rang somewhere in the house indicating that it was time for supper. The guests would be making their way into the dining room momentarily. Lenora knew it was time to go. She retreated quickly into the foyer. She would return to her room now and stay out of the way for the rest of the night.

  But as the guests began to file from the ballroom into the dining room, Lenora found that she couldn’t tear herself away. She had never seen such a lavish supper before. She stood in the foyer, hidden behind the door frame, peeking around it to see what would happen now.

  The lords and ladies seemed to know where they were meant to sit. Lenora saw Lady Katherine take her seat between two gentlemen. Neither was the handsome lord Lenora had seen her admire during their dance together. Perhaps that was why Lady Katherine looked so put out of countenance. Lenora imagined she had harbored hopes of being seated beside that gentleman.

  Where was he?

  She realized that she couldn’t locate him anywhere. Had he left the ball? He wouldn’t have done such a thing, would he? It would be terribly rude to leave before supper was served, and he would cause himself to miss out on all the fine foods being offered. Hadn’t he found Lady Katherine appealing? He must have been interested in winning her hand if he had attended her ball an
d danced with her. Where could he be?

  She craned her neck, trying to see farther into the room without making herself visible to the guests within. Could he have seated himself at the very end of the table, perhaps?

  But no. He was not there.

  The dishes had now begun to be passed, and there was still no sign of Lady Katherine’s chosen lord. Lenora found her attention pulled away from that mystery as the covers were removed from the platters, exposing chicken and venison, fish and prawns, tartlets and cakes. The lord at Lady Katherine’s left side solicitously served her from each dish that passed their way. He was a simpering fool, Lenora thought. Couldn’t he see that Lady Katherine was hardly looking at him? She felt a bit embarrassed for him.

  It must be difficult, she imagined, to have to win the affections of a lady such as Lady Katherine. In all the years Lenora had served at the manor, she couldn’t recall Lady Katherine showing genuine affection for anything. But the poor man continued to make every effort.

  If I could choose any role for myself at this ball, she thought, it would be to take these poor unfortunates aside and make them aware of the fact that they hadn’t been chosen. Someone ought to let them know, truly.

  Soon every plate had been filled and the nobles had begun to eat. Lady Katherine ate daintily, hardly moving any of the food on her plate, and Lenora thought she understood why. The Duchess would have instructed her to be delicate during the supper, to take ladylike bites and show that her appetite was birdlike. The lords would find her delicacy appealing. And indeed, the gentleman at Lady Katherine’s left looked down at her fork, then said something and laughed gently. Lady Katherine blushed delicately up at him.

  There’s no denying that she is lovely, Lenora thought.

  Would the man who won her hand, her heart, come to realize how unkind she could be? How cruel? And if he did, would such a thing even matter to him? Lenora had a feeling that kindness was not a quality highborn lords necessarily sought in their wives. The Duke did not seem to mind the fact that the Duchess was cruel to her staff, after all. Although, Lenora reflected, it was possible that he was unaware of it. Her personality always seemed to change around her lord husband.

  Before long, Lady Katherine had stopped eating entirely. She set down her fork and turned her full attention to the gentleman at her right. The gentleman to her other side looked irritated. He tried a few times to capture her attention, but she looked his way only long enough to be polite before turning back to her preferred dinner companion. Still, Lenora thought, she did not seem captivated by this gentleman. Not the way she had on the dance floor, when she had been partnered with the handsome lord who had since vanished.

  Lady Katherine picked up her goblet and took a demure sip of her wine. Her eyes flickered to the doorway. Her eyes met Lenora’s

  She sputtered.

  A few droplets of wine landed on the fine ivory sleeve of her gown and she let out a cry of outrage and dismay.

  Shocked and horrified, Lenora backed away from the door. This would be considered her fault, she knew. She should never have been standing there, should never have been watching the meal. She had upset her Lady. She had to get back to her room, and quickly, before Lady Katherine sent the Duchess out here to reprimand her.

  But as she hurried away from the door, she turned and collided with someone.

  “I beg your pardon,” she said automatically, her horror multiplying. Now she had collided with one of the guests! She should have stayed upstairs all night. Coming down here had been a mistake. She should have known something like this would happen.

  “It’s quite all right,” said a man’s voice.

  Lenora looked up.

  Her heart sank like a stone.

  The gentleman with whom she’d collided was none other than the mysterious lord with whom Lady Katherine had been dancing. The lord she had been looking at with such admiration. Lenora had thought he’d gone, and yet here he was.

  He will certainly tell her about my fumbling, she thought despairingly. There would be no hope, now, of avoiding punishment for her actions.

  “May I inquire as to your name?” the gentleman asked.

  She didn’t dare speak to him. She couldn’t even look at him. What a disaster tonight had turned out to be!

  “My apologies,” she mumbled, and ran off toward her room before anything else could go wrong.

  Chapter 3

  Was there anything in the world more tedious than a ball?

  Adrian would vastly have preferred to be at home. He preferred to spend his evenings reading, tending to his horse, Gibraltar, or in conversation with his uncle about world affairs. His idea of a good time was certainly not this sort of affair. In truth, he had only attended the event at all at his lady mother’s insistence. The Dowager Marchioness Galdhor could be quite insistent when it came to such matters.

  “Handsome and intelligent you may be, Adrian,” she allowed. “But you must know that appearance isn’t everything, and that brains can take you only so far in this life. You are nearing thirty years of age. It is time for you to wed.”

  Time to wed! It sounded like such an ordeal. What would Adrian’s life become with a wife to care for? The hours of solitude he so enjoyed would evaporate like so much dew on the grass. He would never have a moment for his thoughts again!

  He had tried to convince himself that he was wrong in his assessment. A wife could be a comfort. It might be pleasant to have someone else about the manor, someone new to talk to, someone he could even grow to love. Perhaps she would offer him stimulating conversation. Perhaps she would be gentle and kind.

  But one dance with the Lady Katherine McLean had dashed his hopes in that regard.

  There could be no doubt that she was lovely. She was slender and fair skinned with pale blue eyes and blonde hair that was almost golden. She danced gracefully and smiled prettily and was very becoming indeed in her ivory ball gown.

  But she was so tiresome!

  She seemed to be incapable of conversation. He had tried asking her whether she was enjoying her ball, but she had merely beamed up at him and said “Oh, yes!” He had then waited, expecting that she might return the question or ask him one of her own, but she seemed to have nothing to say.

  Had all the others found it so excruciating to dance with her? They couldn’t have, Adrian reasoned. A couple of lords had even gone back for a second round. They must have enjoyed her company. Or perhaps they were merely so desperate to win her hand in marriage that they would have suffered anything.

  Suffer through it, he ordered himself. Soon enough you will be able to go home and tell your lady mother that you made your best effort here. It wasn’t as if there were no other young women in the world. He would find a wife somewhere else, and that would please his mother. And Lady Katherine would choose from among her dozens of suitors. Everyone would be happy in the end.

  In the end, maybe. But first, Adrian would have to endure the rest of this interminable ball.

  The supper bell chimed, and the rest of the guests began to make their way slowly from the ballroom into the dining room. Adrian held himself back. There would be a clamor, he hoped, to claim a seat next to Lady Katherine, and if he could manage to absent himself for a few moments, he would avoid being seated beside her. He didn’t think he could bear sitting through an entire supper trying to make conversation with her. She was so difficult to talk to. She had absolutely nothing of interest or import to say.

  She is a flower, he thought. Lovely and vibrant, but what you see is all you get. There is nothing more to her.

  Rather than proceed into the dining room and take a seat near Lady Katherine, Adrian stepped out into the garden for a breath of fresh air. His mother would think him very rude for failing to respond promptly to the supper bell, he knew. But his mother would also be appalled at the fact that he was choosing not to spend time with Lady Katherine when time had been offered. What ails you, Son? she would ask him. Don’t you want to wed her?


  He didn’t. Not a bit. Marriage itself he would learn to accept, even to embrace. But not with this lady.

  The garden was well appointed and well-tended, if a bit gaudy—someone had filled it with stone statues of cherubs, which Adrian found off-putting. But he was, for the first time all evening, alone, and that was certainly a relief. Even when he hadn’t been forced to make awkward conversation with Lady Katherine, it seemed there had always been someone eager for his attention. Lord Harreton had talked for what felt like hours about having known Adrian’s father, a subject Adrian was none too eager to discuss. And then, as if that hadn’t been bad enough, there was Mr. Gregor Pelham, son of the Earl of Montrose, who had served in the military at the same time as Adrian and seemed to enjoy comparing war stories.