More or Less a Marchioness

by Anna Bradley

  “Yes. As I said before, Lord Huntington lost and got stuck with me, I’m afraid.” Iris laughed a little, but she couldn’t quite ignore the jab of pain in her chest.

  “I wouldn’t have thought that of Lord Huntington,” Lady Annabel murmured, more to herself than Iris. “I confess I can see why you might wish to jilt him after that, but I doubt the ton will be so forgiving.”

  Iris held out her hand for her glass of wine, and Lady Annabel passed it to her. “No, but then that’s not really why I jilted him.”

  “This is much more complicated than I anticipated. Why, then?”

  Iris thought hard. There’d been a reason—something rather heartbreaking, actually, but she couldn’t quite recall it now…

  “Oh! Oh yes, I remember. I jilted him because Lord Huntington doesn’t care for me. I just happened to be the season’s belle when he made up his mind to marry, and I suppose one young lady is a good as another, isn’t she? I daresay he spends a great deal more time and care choosing a horse at Tattersall’s than he did his marchioness. Well, the wager shows that clearly enough. But I was wrong to jilt him. I see that now. My grandmother, and my sisters…” Iris stared down into the bottom of her wineglass. “It was foolish and selfish of me.”

  What had she expected from a marriage, after all? Love, devotion, faithfulness? Passion, even?

  Yes. It was exactly what she’d expected.

  No. It was more than that. It was what she deserved, not that it made the least bit of difference now.

  Lady Annabel placed her wineglass on the silver tray in front of her and turned a penetrating gaze on Iris. “I confess you surprise me, Iris. I must say, I admire your courage. Not many young ladies in your position would trouble themselves much about anything other than becoming a marchioness.”

  Iris smiled over the dry ache in her throat. “Yes, well—just as I said, it was foolish, but it was more than just the wager, Lady Annabel. He refused an innocent kiss from me when we were betrothed, but not half an hour later he was skulking around the rose bushes with his mistress, reveling in his past debaucheries with her.”

  That wasn’t quite fair, since he’d been trying to disentangle himself from Lady Beaumont more that he’d been reveling in his debaucheries, but Iris didn’t feel like being fair, and she’d had enough wine she didn’t have to be.

  “I just…everything inside me swelled with fury at the injustice of it. For pity’s sake, he tied Lady Beaumont up with silk scarves, then balked at a simple kiss from his betrothed!” Iris drained the rest of the wine in her glass. “I never even had a chance with Lord Huntington. He’d dismissed me before we were even betrothed. He would have made me his marchioness, and in return for that honor, he would have expected utter propriety from me at all times. Unquestioning obedience, as well. I never would have gained his love, or even his respect. I realize I’m meant to settle for the title—to be grateful for it, even—but I knew it was never going to be enough for me.”

  Iris fell back against the settee, a little surprised at herself, but as soon as the words came out, she realized she’d wanted to give herself permission to speak them for a long time.

  “It’s not enough, or it shouldn’t be. Not for anyone. But you said earlier Lord Huntington did kiss you, so at some point his insistence on propriety must have given way to passion. Unless it wasn’t a passionate kiss?”

  Iris’s belly gave a wild little leap as she remembered the way he’d looked at her when she’d challenged him about Chaos, and the feel of his mouth on hers, hot and demanding, his short, ragged breaths. She could have kissed him for hours, days—even now she hadn’t the faintest idea how she’d managed to pull herself from his arms.

  It seemed she had some dark desires of her own.

  But how could she confess such a thing to Lady Annabel? Proper ladies didn’t have dark desires. At least, Iris had never heard any lady of her acquaintance confess to them, but then a notoriously wicked widow wasn’t just any lady, and Iris had come this far without Lady Annabel falling into a shocked swoon.

  “Well, if I can’t confide in a wicked widow about my dark desires, who can I confide in?” As soon as the words slipped past her lips, Iris could have bitten out her tongue. “I mean, not wicked, of course. I don’t think you’re wicked in the least, Lady Annabel. What I mean is—”

  She didn’t get any further, because Lady Annabel threw back her head and laughed. “It’s quite all right. I reconciled myself to my wickedness a long time ago.” She leaned forward, her blue eyes alight with humor. “And really, my dear, being wicked is far more amusing than being good.”

  Iris snorted. “Lord Huntington knows that well enough.”

  Lady Annabel’s lips twitched. “You’re referring to the silk scarves?”

  “Yes!” Iris beamed. Lady Annabel was terribly clever. “That same day, when Lady Beaumont was hiding in the garden—well, this was rather bad of me—but I overheard her argument with Lord Huntington. That’s how I discovered the truth about his dark desires.”

  Just saying those words made a shiver run down her spine.

  “I see.” Lady Annabel cocked her head to one side, studying Iris. “Speaking of desires, tell me, Iris. How are you getting on with the reading I recommended?”

  “It’s, ah…been quite enlightening, just as you promised.”

  Lady Annabel chuckled. “Yes, I daresay it has been. Do you have any questions about anything you’ve read?”

  Iris raised her hands and pressed her palms to her burning cheeks. Goodness, that fire was hot. “I’ve finished Dialogues between a Lady and Her Maid. Violet interrupted me when I was searching for School of Venus, but I thought I’d look again before I retire tonight. Perhaps I’ll save my questions for after I’ve finished them all.”

  “Very well.” Lady Annabel hesitated, a frown creasing her brow. “You may find as you read that you learn as much about yourself as anything else. Every young lady should have such knowledge, but sometimes discovering truths about yourself makes things a bit more…complicated. Are you prepared for that?”

  Iris nodded. Wasn’t it a good thing if she learned about herself? “Yes, I think so.”

  Lady Annabel rose from the sofa. “Very well, then. Come to me when you’ve finished with the books.”

  “Yes, I will. You’re very kind, my lady.”

  “I’m not kind at all. I assure you, I do this only for my own amusement.”

  “Yes, very well.” Iris bit her lip as a thought occurred to her. “The house party ends in just over a week. That will be enough time to learn everything I need to know, won’t it?”

  For some reason, this made Annabel laugh. “Why don’t we wait and see?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  He’d meant to be civilized about it. Gentlemanly.

  Finn knocked quietly on Miss Somerset’s door, but when there was no answer, and the knob turned easily in his hand, his fingers clenched until his knuckles cracked.

  She’d left her bedchamber door unlocked.

  Apprehension made him fling open the door with more force than he’d intended, and he winced as it crashed into the wall behind it. Damn it. He only wanted to see if she was in her bedchamber and out of Wrexley’s reach, not frighten the wits out of her.

  He needn’t have worried. The room was dark, and even in the dim light from the hallway he could see it was empty. She wasn’t here, and it looked as if she hadn’t been here yet this evening.

  “Bloody hell, Huntington. There’s no need to tear the house down.” Lord Derrick, who must have heard the crash, rounded the corner at the end of the hallway and joined Finn outside Miss Somerset’s bedchamber.

  “She’s not there.”

  Derrick peered over his shoulder into the silent bedchamber. “Are you sure you have the right room? Christ, this house is worse than a puzzle maze. I feel like a rabbit who’s scurried dow
n the wrong hole.”

  “I’m sure. It’s her room. It has her scent.”

  Derrick’s eyebrows shot up. “Her scent?”

  “Jasmine.” Finn pulled the door shut and turned back toward the staircase. “We’re wasting time.”

  “Just a moment, if you please.” Derrick leaned a hip against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest with the air of a man who wasn’t going anywhere. “You’re acting like a bloody Bedlamite. Why are you so agitated?”

  “Why? For God’s sake, Derrick. Do you suppose it’s a coincidence both Miss Somerset and Wrexley are missing? She’s gone off alone with that villain. We haven’t seen a glimpse of her since she left the drawing room, despite an hour’s search through the house and gardens.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of the circumstances, Huntington. I didn’t ask for a summary of them. I asked why you’re so agitated.”

  Finn’s back teeth snapped together. “I just told you.”

  “No, I don’t think so. You know as well as I do Miss Somerset can’t have gone far. She’ll turn up, and in any case, I would have thought it would take much more than one misplaced young lady to shake the Marquess of Huntington’s icy composure.” Derrick gave him an innocent look. “Unless, of course, you’ve grown fonder of her than you’re willing to admit. Have you?”

  Fond of her? Finn didn’t know whether to marry her or turn her over his knee. Did that mean he was fond of her?

  Derrick arched an eyebrow at him, waiting.

  “I don’t care for fair-haired ladies,” Finn muttered at last.

  “Yes, I believe you’ve said so before.”

  “Or dark blue eyes, even if they are the toast of London.”

  Derrick shrugged. “A lot of fuss over nothing, if you ask me.”

  “She’s a menace, as well. Did I tell you she tried to ride a half-wild horse this morning? She would have marched him right out the stable doors and jumped onto his back if I hadn’t stopped her.”

  “Shocking behavior.”

  “I’m the injured party here, Derrick. She jilted me.”

  “Twice, even.”

  “She said we didn’t suit, and now I know her better, I couldn’t agree more. I don’t want a wife who chases after every whim as it happens to strike her, without a care as to who she might trample under her feet as she goes.”

  “Troublesome thing in a wife, I daresay.”

  “Lady Honora was my first choice, you know, and I’m free to court her now if I wish. I should be thanking Miss Somerset for jilting me.”

  “You really should. Why don’t you do that, once we find her?”

  “Steady, peaceful, and predictable—that’s Lady Honora. She’s just the kind of lady I’ve always imagined would become my marchioness. She wouldn’t insist on riding a wild horse, or be so rude as to leave the drawing room without playing the pianoforte, and she would never vanish into the night with a rake like Wrexley.”

  “She’d never dream of it.”

  “If Miss Somerset chooses to throw herself away on a scoundrel, what business is it of mine?”

  “Why, none at all.”

  “She’s caused me enough trouble to last me into my dotage, Derrick, and that’s only in the last several days. God only knows what mayhem tomorrow will bring.”

  “God only knows.”

  “I don’t even like the scent of jasmine.”

  “Why would you? Sickly sweet stuff. Cloying, even.”

  “I’m the Marquess of Huntington, for God’s sake, and I’ve been tearing around this house like a fool all night, chasing after some unruly chit who’s jilted me.”

  “Twice.”

  “Well, then. Miss Somerset may do as she pleases. I’m retiring to my bedchamber.” Finn turned on his heel and marched down the hallway. He was scowling—he knew he was, because his brow was so low he could feel his eyelashes brush his forehead with every blink.

  Damn it, where was she?

  He stopped at the top of the staircase and turned back to Derrick, who was still leaning against the wall outside Miss Somerset’s door.

  Derrick raised an eyebrow at him. “Something the matter, Huntington?”

  “I’ll just go through the first floor one last time, only because I’ll sleep better knowing I’ve done all I can to find her. Not for any other reason.”

  “All right, then.”

  “Perhaps I’d better search the terrace and garden again, too. I’ve been out there once, but there are a great many places to hide in a garden, especially one of that size.”

  Derrick straightened from his slouch against the wall and sauntered toward Finn. “I’ll search the first floor, if you like. I’m going down in any case, for another game of chess with Lady Honora. The search will go more quickly if I help, and I know you’re anxious to conclude this business with Miss Somerset.”

  “I am, only…” Only he hadn’t the faintest idea anymore whether concluding the business meant leaving Miss Somerset to her fate, or dragging her off to his bedchamber and kissing her senseless until she agreed to marry him.

  “Only?” Derrick gave him a look of polite inquiry.

  Finn dragged both hands down his face without replying, because when it came to Miss Somerset, he hadn’t the faintest idea how he felt, much less what to say. Christ, how had things gone so awry in just a few short days? It should have been a simple enough matter to persuade her to marry him, so how did he come to be chasing all over Hadley House, his stomach in knots over a woman he’d dismissed easily enough when he was betrothed to her?

  “You know, Huntington, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if, despite her fair hair, blue eyes, jasmine scent, and air of general menace, you should find yourself fond of Miss Somerset, after all. If that should prove to be the case, allow me to offer you a few words of advice.”

  Finn blew out a breath. “Very well. What is it?”

  “Tell her you’re fond of her, instead of making her feel as if you’re marrying her only because it’s the honorable thing to do, as if you have no choice. Women are odd creatures, you see, Huntington. They like to think their betrothed has some affection for them. Rather foolish, but there it is.” Derrick thumped him on the back, then brushed past on his way down the stairs.

  Finn watched him go until Derrick melted into the shadows on the first floor, then he followed after him, taking the stairs two at a time and muttering to himself the entire way.

  But when he emerged onto the terrace he found nothing but silent darkness, and the anxiety that had started as a pinch in his chest deepened to dread. His boots rang against the stones beneath his feet, the sound fading to a faint crunch when he reached the loose pebbles on the main garden pathway.

  But the garden was as silent as the terrace, the only sound his gasping breaths as he turned this way and that, searching for someone who wasn’t there.

  Who wasn’t…anywhere.

  “She’s in the library, Lord Huntington.”

  Finn whirled around to find Lady Tallant standing on the terrace behind him, her red gown fluttering in the breeze, and behind her, a flickering light, just visible through the glass door that led from the terrace to the library. He hadn’t noticed it before.

  “Miss Somerset, that is,” Lady Tallant added. “I assume you’re looking for her?”

  “I—yes. Thank you.” Finn came down the pathway and mounted the stairs to the terrace door. He’d checked the library earlier in the evening and found it empty, but the light was indeed coming from there.

  It was her. It had to be.

  Finn bowed to Lady Tallant and started for the door, anxious not to waste any more time, but she stopped him with a touch to his arm.

  “Miss Somerset is your betrothed, I believe, Lord Huntington? At least, I understand you intend to marry her?”

  Finn frowned. He wasn’t
sure why it should matter to Lady Tallant what his intentions were in regards to Miss Somerset, but for the sake of getting away, he inclined his head politely. “I’ve offered for her, yes.”

  Twice.

  “I see. It may interest you to know I found her alone in the garden with Lord Wrexley earlier this evening. Perhaps you should keep a closer eye on her, Lord Huntington.”

  The moment she mentioned Wrexley’s name Finn’s eyebrows lowered in a scowl, but Lady Tallant didn’t stay to hear his reply. She simply gave him a cryptic half-smile, and retreated into the house, leaving him alone on the terrace.

  He didn’t pause to make sense of this odd exchange but moved to the door that led into the library. He took care to enter quietly, but he needn’t have bothered, because whatever Miss Somerset was doing, she was so absorbed with it she didn’t notice him, not even when he closed the door behind him and crossed the room.

  Not even when he was so close he could have reached out and touched her.

  She was sitting at a long table with a book open before her and her back to him, with the feeble light from her lamp picking up the golden strands in her hair.

  Finn drew closer still, his breath catching as the urge to touch her, to run his fingertips over her silky curls nearly sent him reeling. He had the strangest notion that if he did touch her, if she felt his hands in her hair, she’d tilt her head back until it touched his chest, and she’d smile up at him, her eyes darkening to deep cobalt as his mouth descended to her arched neck. It was so real, that image in his head, he reached out as if in daze, and let his fingers settle on her shoulder.

  That was the moment his dream disintegrated into painful, ear-splitting reality.

  She let out a strangled cry and leapt from her chair, which toppled backwards and would have crashed to the floor if it hadn’t hit Finn’s legs first.

  “Lord Huntington! Dear God, whatever are you doing, sneaking about in the dark like that? You scared the wits out of me.” She choked in a few gasping breaths and patted her chest. “For goodness’ sake, you certainly make it a habit to appear where you’re least expected.”