Never Dance with a Marquess (The Never Series Book 2)

by Maggi Andersen

  Synopsis

  A confirmed bachelor who values his peace, Nicholas, Marquess of Pennington, agrees to his dying friend, Maxwell, Baron Leeming’s request for him to become the guardian of his children, Caroline, Arabella, and Jeremy.

  Nicholas doesn’t anticipate having to guide a young beauty safely through her first Season and married to a suitable gentleman, while keeping a close eye on the two younger children who test him in ways he could never have imagined.

  Max expresses concern that his younger brother, Simon Leeming, might return from France. He left England’s shores after being implicated in a murder some years ago. Max believes Simon will try to take control of his children and their fortune. As Simon is next in line for the barony, Max has fears for his heir, Jeremy, who could be in danger.

  While Carrie is a devotee of poetry and an admirer of Byron, she proves not to be a flighty young miss intent on her first Season. Rather, she is serious minded, and more concerned with the welfare of her brother and sister whom she has cared for during her father’s illness.

  While Carrie accepts that she must marry, she views it as a loss of her independence. A controlling husband would see the end to her dreams and might refuse to allow her sister to live with her.

  Nicholas nurses a deep hurt from his past. He has no intention of ever placing his heart at risk again. He blames himself for the death of his first love and suffers the loss of his father and his brother, prematurely. As he tries to ignore his feelings for Carrie, he remains determined to honor his friend, Max’s wish to find the right man for her, someone light-hearted who would share her dreams. Someone to share her love of poetry.

  Max’s fears prove well founded when his brother, Simon Leeming, and a dangerous Frenchman come to Elm Court with evil intentions, and Nicholas must deal with them.

  Once the danger is over, Carrie takes matters into her own hands to shake Nicholas from his deep-seated belief in singledom and his denial of his love for her. She forces him to face the truth. But will he come to terms with his past and open his heart to her?

  Never Dance with a Marquess

  The Never Series Book Two

  Maggi Andersen

  A thing of beauty is a joy forever…

  Endymion John Keats 1818

  Dedicated with loving thanks to my husband, David, who tirelessly reads and offers valuable comments on my work.

  Prologue

  Leeming Hall, Yorkshire, 1812

  The library at Leeming Hall smelled pleasantly of wood, vanilla, musk, and ancient historic tomes. Libraries, especially the Oxford University library, Nicholas, Captain Ambrose, would always associate with Max.

  Opposite him, Maxwell, Baron Leeming, sat back in his chair, a glass of brandy held loosely in his hand. Nicholas hadn’t seen him for over two years and was struck by the change in him. His friend’s intelligent brown eyes looked dull, his thin face strained.

  “I am told I have a diseased heart,” Max said without preamble.

  “Dear Lord, Max.” Nicholas leaned forward with a frown. He couldn’t conceive of his friend being ill. He had always been so full of life. “Is it bad?”

  Max shrugged. “I won’t make old bones, it seems.”

  Nicholas had joined the army after he left the university. He was about to travel to Spain to join Viscount Wellington in the fight against the French. When he received Max’s summons, he came straight away. “Doctors are not always right. Should you seek another opinion?”

  Max’s smile was bleak. “I have consulted a London physician. But one always hears of someone making a liar out of their doctors and living to ripe old age. I hope for my children’s sake, I’m one of ’em.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” Nicholas raised his glass and took a deep sip of the brandy. The fine taste soured in his mouth and tasted like ditch water.

  “I must ask something of you, Nicholas. Should it come to pass, it is not a small favor, and of course, you can refuse,” Max continued. “But first, let me explain.”

  Disturbed but more than a little intrigued, Nicholas crossed his legs and waited. Max was always a careful fellow. He had been Nicholas’s professor of history at Oxford. They’d become close friends after Max had helped Nicholas deal with his depression following the death of the woman he loved. Anything Nicholas could do for Max, he would do willingly. But it was beyond his capabilities to rescue him from a bad heart. He breathed deeply and waited.

  “What I am about to tell you must remain in strictest confidence.” Not waiting for Nicholas to add his assurance, he went on. “This means my daughter, Caroline, and the two younger children must not learn of it.” He took a sip from his glass. “My younger brother, Simon, is a gambler. He got into desperate trouble when he was implicated in the murder of a London gaming hell proprietor. Simon apparently owed him a considerable sum of money. With Bow Street on his tail, Simon approached my wife, Annabelle, without my knowledge and asked for money.”

  “She gave it to him?”

  Max nodded. “She’d always had a soft spot for him, having known him for many years, and he used it to his advantage. She pawned some of her jewels in York. It was enough to set him up in France, where my spies tell me he continues to play the tables.”

  “Would he risk returning to England?”

  He shrugged. “Once the fuss dies down, and he thinks it’s worth his while, I believe he will. If something happens to me, I suspect he’ll attempt to gain control of the children and their inheritance.” He frowned. “I consider him to be a threat to Jeremy, my heir.”

  “Hell’s teeth,” Nicholas murmured.

  “I hope to have a few years left to me. My doctor thinks it’s possible. But after I’m gone, it’s unlikely my three children will have reached adulthood, so I should very much like you to become their guardian.”

  “Well, of course, Max,” Nicholas said, fighting to hide how shattered he was at the news. “Should it come to that, and I hope please God it doesn’t, you can rely on me to take care of them.”

  Max sagged in his chair. “I knew I could, Nicholas. I have but one relative I might call on, my great aunt, Lady Penelope Grantly. But should I make her their guardian, Simon is bound to manipulate her into handing over control of their fortune to him.” He shrugged. “Who knows what he is capable of? You might think I’m overreacting.” He smiled, briefly, sadly. “But I don’t trust my brother. Gambled away his inherited fortune, lost the property he inherited from my father. He will do anything to get his hands on more money.”

  “Don’t give it a moment’s concern, Max. You can count on me for this or anything else. Should you need me, send a letter to my father. He’ll advise me if I’m away from England.”

  “Well, don’t get yourself killed in Spain, there’s a good fellow.”

  Nicholas raised his glass. “I shall endeavor not to.”

  “If I die before Caroline comes of age, I should like her to make her London debut. You’re what, twenty-five, Nicholas?”

  “Twenty-six,” Nicholas amended.

  “You could be in your thirties before this old heart of mine fails me. If it happens before Carrie is out, can you see she makes her Come-out? Ensure she marries a decent fellow? Not an old widower, someone who can share her dreams.” He smiled sadly. “I want the world for her. She is already an exceptional young woman, and I can only imagine how she will set the ton on its ear when the time comes.” He paused. “Have you changed your view on marriage?”

  “No, Max. Marriage isn’t for everyone. It’s not for me.”

  “It isn’t for everyone, I agree, but I think it would be right for you. If you
’ll forgive my saying so. I believe my circumstances lend me a certain license. You were meant to give your heart to a woman, Nicholas.”

  Nicholas shook his head slowly. “Never again.”

  “I understand,” Max went on. “It’s because of your terrible loss, for which you hold yourself responsible. It was not your fault the girl you loved died. A tragic accident. I pray you make your peace with it one day.” He smiled. “And change your mind…”

  “I doubt it, my friend. But if it becomes necessary for me to become your children’s guardian, and I hope with every fiber of my being it doesn’t, I will carry out your instructions for them to the letter.”

  Max placed a thin hand on Nicholas’s arm. “I know I can rely on you.” He stood. “I have had the documents drawn up for you to sign. Afterward, you must come and meet the children.”

  The legalities completed, Max had introduced him to his pride and joy, Caroline, who held the promise of beauty at fourteen; a younger girl of eight, Arabella, with an impish smile; and a serious little boy a year younger, Jeremy, Max’s heir. Caring for these children was beyond Nicholas’s comprehension, but as he could not believe in his heart they would lose Max, he pushed the thought away. After all, doctors were not infallible.

  As he departed Yorkshire for his home in Surrey, a small face appeared in his memory. Caroline, or Carrie, as her father called her. Why had she scowled so fiercely at him?

  Chapter One

  Early Spring, 1818

  Elm Park, Surrey

  Nicholas Marquess of Pennington glanced up from his books as the coach, with two of the Pennington footmen accompanying the coachman, trundled past his library window on its way to the stables.

  His whippet sat up in his basket, looking expectant. “No, Chester, you shan’t be accompanying me.” The dog settled down again with a sigh.

  Nicholas finished the letters he’d been signing and left them for his secretary, Paul Williams. Steeling himself, he pushed back his chair and rose from the desk. Passing a mirror on the way to the door, Nicholas smoothed his dark hair and straightened his cravat. Would this put an end to the peace he valued? He had been on his own for so long, he’d grown accustomed to it and was entirely unsuited to family life. To keep his sanity, he must make it clear from the beginning, he was not to be disturbed while working in his library. He suspected it would be his last bastion of peace.

  His butler met him in the corridor. “The ladies await you in the morning room, milord. I took the liberty of ordering the tea tray.”

  “Good fellow.” Nicholas entered the room, expecting to find two young ladies. There was only one, whose freckled face beamed up at him, plus a dour-faced older female in black from head to foot—the governess.

  “Uncle Nicholas!” The younger lady turned from the fireplace where she had been studying an oil painting and pranced coltishly over the carpet to him.

  The governess cleared her throat.

  “Oh.” As if her governess had struck a whip over her head, the auburn-haired sprite of some fourteen years fell into a low curtsey. “I forgot. But it is so good to see you again.”

  Nicholas smiled. “And you, Arabella. But I am not your uncle,” he said, surprised she remembered him at all. Max had died almost a year ago.

  Arabella and her sister, Caroline, had stayed with the vicar and his wife for the months following his death. Her mourning period over, Caroline was then to have gone straight to London, but the vicar wrote to him on her behalf. Because Arabella was so upset at losing her father, and then her sister leaving for London, and as it was still early in the Season, might Caroline spend a few weeks with them at Elm Park.

  Nicholas had disliked the idea. A young woman of twenty living under his roof for even a short time would undoubtedly cause gossip in the village. But he agreed. Perhaps it would help ease the children into their new life.

  “But you are our guardian, are you not?” Arabella asked. “And we are to live here with you. At least, I will.” Her green eyes clouded. “Carrie won’t, as she makes her Come-out next month, and Jeremy will only visit from Eton for the holidays.”

  “You shall have much to occupy you here, Arabella,” Nicholas said hastily, fearing tears. He hated to see women of any age crying.

  She tilted her head and gazed at him. “What might we call you?”

  The governess coughed twice.

  “Nicholas will do.”

  It earned him a warm smile. “And you must call me Bella.”

  He turned to the afflicted governess. “I’m sorry. How do you do, Miss…?” His secretary had supplied the lady’s name, but he’d forgotten it.

  She sank into a low curtsey with a creaking of her limbs. “Miss Scotsdale, my lord.”

  Bella came to seize the lady’s elbow. “Dear Scotty’s knees are not what they were.” She assisted an uncomplaining Scotty to the damask sofa. The lady lowered herself regally upon it. Bella sat beside her. “Scotty is a little weary, we’ve come quite a long way.”

  “Yorkshire is a distance from Gloucestershire,” he agreed. “But tell me, Bella, where is your sister?”

  “Carrie is still in Harrogate because she decided Mrs. Barns, that’s the vicar’s wife, has need of her. Their two children have the measles.”

  What Caroline might do to help was beyond his knowledge. “As I sent my coach to bring you both safely here, that is most unfortunate.” It was a damned nuisance. Was Caroline going to be a handful?

  “The vicar explained that to Carrie, but Emily, that’s his youngest, was still feverish, so Carrie decided to stay for a few days more.”

  “I hope that you, or your sister, or Miss Scotsdale, were not so afflicted?”

  “Carrie has had the measles, but I haven’t,” Bella said. Her chin trembled. “But Carrie assured me you agreed to her staying here with Jeremy and me for a few weeks.” She swallowed. “Before she leaves us.” Her chest heaved with a heavy sigh.

  He tamped down a sigh of his own as he eyed the dramatic young woman before him. “I have arranged it, Bella. But tell me, how did your sister plan to travel here?” He had visions of her coming by stage or mail coach. The vicar might have warned him, he thought crossly.

  The governess cleared her throat again. “If you’ll allow me to speak, my lord, the Leeming family coachman is to bring Miss Leeming and her maid.” She flushed. “I did not approve of her remaining behind, but my opinion was not sought.”

  “Carrie will be perfectly safe with old Bickle,” Bella said. “As the new tenant has yet to move into Leeming Hall, he agreed to spare him.”

  Nicholas’s footman, Jerry, brought in the tea tray.

  Bella peeled off her gloves and untied the strings of her bonnet. “Oh, crumpets, I adore them.”

  Miss Scotsdale, Scotty, snapped sandy eyebrows together in a frown when Bella’s bonnet sailed onto a chair.

  A sense of unease seeped into Nicholas’s bones. Could he carry out his promise to Max? Raise these two children safely to adulthood? It seemed a formidable task. He had readily agreed, keen to ease his friend’s mind.

  “Don’t tell the children about Simon, unless you must,” Max had implored him as Nicholas had signed the legal papers making him their guardian, while their fortune was held in trust by the family solicitors and their great aunt, Lady Penelope Grantly.

  Max wrote to him for the last time, a year ago, with the grim news that his health was now at a very low ebb. “As Carrie has turned twenty, she requires only your guidance. I trust you will do as we discussed and arrange her London debut. I’m sure a suitable match can be found for her quickly.” Max’s handwriting was uneven, with ink blots upon the page. “Losing your father and brother must have been devastating, Nicholas. Such sadness in your young life. I pray you find love and companionship, and wish I could be there to see it.”

  It was a crushing blow. Max was only forty-two. Nicholas had written back to express his concern and added the assurance that his friend did not need to worry about his childre
n. A month later, Nicholas attended Max’s funeral.

  It would not be easy to raise two children alone. With no progeny and little experience of schoolroom misses, not to mention debutantes, he felt decidedly ill-prepared. He hoped to be better able to guide Max’s son. Jeremy had inherited the barony and was now in his thirteenth year.

  “Your brother arrives from Eton next week for the school holidays,” he said to Bella, who had fallen into a dispirited silence.

  “Oh, good. I see so little of Jeremy now he’s at school,” Bella said, sounding wistful. “We had wonderful adventures.”

  “Did you?” Nicholas asked uneasily.

  “Yes. Jeremy and I used to climb the big old oak tree in the Leeming Hall garden. We’d have battles with acorns. I fell out once and broke my arm.”

  “I trust you’ll resist climbing any trees here, Bella.”

  She frowned at him. “Heavens. I am too old to climb trees.”

  Nicholas looked at the silent governess. “Miss Scotsdale, would you please pour?”

  The august lady set about it with a rattle of cups and an iron determination.

  Nicholas took a cup and saucer from her with a nod of thanks. He added milk and stirred in sugar. “Tell me of your sister’s plans, please, Bella. When does she leave Yorkshire?”

  Bella’s mouth glistened with butter. She dabbed her face daintily with a napkin. “You never quite know with Carrie.”

  Nicholas groaned inwardly. “Dare I ask why?”

  “She is a great help in a crisis. Mrs. Barns, the vicar’s wife, says so. But Carrie is exceedingly fond of poetry.”

  “I see,” he said carefully, although he didn’t at all. Struggling with a poet’s vague intent was a complete waste of time in his estimation. He much preferred a book on history. “I’m sure there are many gentlemen who will share her interest.”

  “I imagine so.” Having finished her crumpet, Bella selected a jam tartlet and took a dainty bite. “But Carrie never seems to see them.”