Make Me a Marchioness

by Gemma Blackwood

  "You need not worry over much on that account," said Charles, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "If all goes well, I will be able to provide for Julia myself."

  "What on earth do you mean?" asked Harry. "Surely you must see that it is impossible for her to remain as a governess?"

  "Far from it," said Charles. "It is my deepest desire that within a few short weeks she will become the Marchioness of Chiltern."

  "What?" spluttered Rawly. "Chiltern, do my ears deceive me?"

  "Not at all. She is my betrothed – or, she was until recently – and I intend to marry her without further delay."

  "I say, Chiltern, don't you think she's a little, well, young for you?"

  "That's a bit rich, coming from the man who only last summer was trying to marry me off to his eighteen-year-old daughter!" laughed Charles. Rawly looked embarrassed.

  "That was different. Emily was in need of a husband, and I was taking desperate measures to ensure she looked in a respectable direction."

  "Fortunately," said Harry dryly, "Lady Emily's choice was more than respectable enough for any reasonable man."

  The Duke of Rawly harrumphed uncomfortably. Lady Emily had, in fact, married Harry's younger brother – and, when it came to suitable suitors, James Marsden had not even made the list. The fact that the young couple were desperately in love and had spent the past six months of their marriage in perfect happiness have done little to persuade Rawly that his daughter had not made a terrible mistake.

  "I certainly hope you will not object to the match," said Charles to Harry, thinking it best to change the subject.

  "If Julia has accepted you, who am I to stand in her way?" Harry narrowed his eyes at Charles, evidently trying to assume the position of responsible older relative. "Though she has every right to change her mind once she realises that all the eligible young men in London will be chasing after her fortune."

  "We will have to wait and see," said Charles, unable to hide his smile.

  "Then our course of action seems clear," said Harry. "We must hasten to London at once and rescue Julia from her brother's clutches. Once she is safely back at Amberley house, we will discuss the possibility of her marriage. I am afraid my horses will need a rest, Chiltern, and I do not wish to delay. Might we make use of your carriage?"

  "Certainly," said Charles. "I will have the horses prepared immediately. It's half a day's journey to London, but if I have my way, we will fly across the roads in two hours."

  Harry stopped him before he could make his way out. "I must warn you," he said, "the man we are facing is no easy adversary. Members of my family have had dealings with him before. He can be vicious when provoked. For Julia's safety, we must proceed with caution and cool heads."

  "I quite agree with you," said Charles, "though my own head, I must admit, is far from cool. We will hash out the finer details of our plan on the journey to London. And on the way, we'll pick up Kit Yardsley. He's a devil by reputation, but he is jolly handy in a tight spot."

  "I think there is safety in numbers," Harry agreed.

  "Kit Yardsley?" demanded Rawly. "Surely you don't mean we ought to associate with the same Lord Christopher who has disgraced himself by marrying some tart of a servant?"

  "You are speaking of one of my very dear friends," said Charles sternly, "and the man whose education I am personally paying for. I have the highest opinion of Lord Kit, and, moreover, I ought to remind you that I myself have recently become engaged to a governess. The fact that she has turned out to be a Duke's daughter is of no consequence. Love does not follow society's rules."

  "Love!" spluttered Rawly. "I must say, I have never approved of it. But I will not argue with you, Chiltern. Only do not ask me to be seen in public with this Lord Kit. I have my children's reputation to think of as well as my own."

  Even the weight of Rawly's censure for Kit could not detract from the lightness of Charles's heart at that moment. He knew he ought not to underestimate Edmund Mallory, and, indeed, the thought of confronting him gave him some trepidation, but for the first time in days, he had some hope.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Julia had hoped she would never see the inside of Mallory's again. Breathing the foul smoky air once more felt like a nightmare. No, even worse: this nightmare was real.

  Mr Silver kept a vice-like grip on her arm as he steered her between the tables. Even this early in the evening, the gaming hell was crowded with men who all had one thing in common: a dangerous lust for money.

  Silver pushed her down into a chair. Julia bit her lip. She was too proud to let his rough treatment make her cry out. She rubbed her arm where he had gripped it and waited.

  "Mr Mallory will be with you shortly," said Silver. It was always impossible to tell what her brother's enforcer thought about anything. His face bore the same expression when he was counting cards as it did when he broke a man's fingers.

  "Are you really going to leave me here unaccompanied?" asked Julia.

  "Do you imagine you have a reputation to protect?" breathed Mr Silver, leaning down to bring his nose tip-to-tip with hers. "After the slatternly way you behaved at Chiltern? Such airs and graces your whoremaster Marquess gave you!"

  Julia brought her hand around and slapped him as hard as she could across the face. Silver barely flinched. His crushing fist pounded down upon the table, making it shake.

  "So that's how it's going to be, is it?" he asked. Julia was trembling, but she did not back away. She knew that, for all his faults, Edmund would never allow one of his men to hurt her.

  "Silver! That's enough!"

  Ah. There he was. Her beloved brother.

  Edmund slid smoothly into the chair opposite her. "Play nicely with Mr Silver, darling. You know how he struggles to control his temper."

  Julia had never seen a man so tightly controlled as Mr Silver. It was terrifying. As he walked away, leaving her with her brother, she finally relaxed – just a little.

  "Why have you brought me in here, Edmund?" she asked. "I thought you wanted to keep me away from all this."

  "That was before," Edmund explained, as though it were obvious. "That was when you were pure-hearted and innocent of spirit. Now, I'm afraid your high and mighty friends have given you ideas. They have spoiled you. You are no longer my sweet little sister. I am not going to let you out of my sight until you have learned your lesson." He leaned across the table, smiling manically. "You belong to me, Julia. We are family. No one can ever tear us apart. No one ever will again. Do you understand me?"

  "I understand," said Julia faintly.

  Edmund nodded, satisfied, and leaned back. "That's good to hear. Now, you have gone entirely too long without performing your duties."

  "My duties?"

  "That's right, sweet sister. Have you forgotten?" Edmund sighed. "I have not found anyone as capable of dealing with my rather...complicated...finances as you were, Julia. I want you to take up the books again. You are no longer playing at being an aristocrat, after all. You must work for your living, just like the rest of us."

  "I hardly call what you do here working," said Julia defiantly.

  "Where did you learn to be so cruel?" asked Edmund, pretending to be hurt. "I wonder how I can train it out of you. Should I be kind... or should I be strict? The choice is yours."

  Julia's fists clenched in her lap. She had too many painful memories of Edmund's strictness. "I'm sorry, Edmund," she said, forcing herself to be docile. "I won't speak out against you again."

  "That's what I like to hear," sighed Edmund. "Another word out of you and I will have you locked away in your room again. You'll be lucky to see the light of day. Do you hear me?"

  "Loud and clear." Julia had spent the days since arriving back from Chiltern locked in the smallest room in their tiny house in Seven Dials. She had not even been allowed out to empty her chamber pot. She would not give Edmund any reason to punish her further.

  The image of Charles, loving and concerned, rose unwanted in her mind. She pus
hed it away. She'd had too much time alone to think of him since leaving Chiltern. Every fibre of her being longed to see him again. But that was an indulgent, foolish notion, that belonged to a Julia of the past. This Julia – the one sitting in a stinking gaming hell in front of her evil brother – had no right to think romantic thoughts about a handsome Marquess.

  She pinched the soft skin of her wrist to take her mind off the pain of losing Charles. If she gave Edmund the slightest indication that she missed him, she could not predict what his reaction would be.

  "So, I am to keep the books, and you are going to supervise me?" she asked. "Don't you think it will be off-putting for your customers, seeing me here?"

  "On the contrary," said Edmund, reaching out to brush a long finger down her face. "Now that I know the effect you have on the gentry, I hope you will begin to attract an entirely different sort of clientele."

  Julia could not conceal her shudder. Fortunately, Edmund seemed amused by her disgust. "What a time to be prudish! After all your romantic adventures, I'd have thought you'd relish the thought of seducing all manner of high-class men."

  "You're a monster," Julia spat, unable to contain herself any longer.

  "And what does that make you, sweet sister?" asked Edmund coldly. "We share the same blood, you and I. The only difference is that my father was a good and noble man who died too young. Yours was a blackguard who cared nothing for you and left you to die on the streets. And now your dear Marquess is doing the same. They will all leave you, Julia. Only I will ever truly love you. Only I can take care of you." He took one of her hands in his and pressed it to his lips. "And I intend to do it until the day I die." He giggled. "Or until you die, of course. Whichever comes first."

  Julia let his lips touch her skin. She half expected them to be cold and slimy, like a frog. But Edmund was, after all, only a man.

  "Now then, dearest Julia, I must leave you." He pushed a stack of papers towards her. "I'm afraid you will find the finances in rather a mess. I am depending on you. Do not forget it. You wouldn't want to make me angry, would you?"

  Julia shook her head.

  "Then see to it that you sort things out quickly. I want to see a good, solid profit margin. Now, I must go and make my rounds of the gaming tables. Be a good girl, won't you?"

  Edmund waited for her to nod again before he was satisfied enough to leave her alone. Julia blinked rapidly, willing herself not to cry, and pulled the stack of papers towards her.

  Crying would do her no good at all. She had made her choice. At least, this time, she was not trapped here for no reason. She was doing it for Annabelle.

  The thought was barely enough to sustain her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Charles could not deny it. He was no stranger to London's underbelly. He had even been to Mallory's once or twice before.

  But now that he traversed the filthy streets of Seven Dials knowing that Julia was inside one of those drab little houses, he saw it all with entirely fresh eyes. And the impression was not a good one.

  Huge piles of horse dung lay unswept in the streets. At least, he hoped it was only horse dung. He averted his eyes from the worst messes. More than once, he and his companions had to step over the slumbering form of a drunk, lying in the streets with the litter. It was a far cry from the splendour and clean streets of Mayfair.

  "I cannot bear to think of Julia in this place," he muttered to Harry, as the Duke steered him around an unsavoury-smelling puddle.

  "Remember that this is where she spent most of her life," said Harry, which was not entirely soothing. "She is accustomed to this place. It will not distress her too much." He wrinkled his nose, sniffing the air. "At least, I hope not."

  Charles endeavoured not to look too familiar with the mysterious, unassuming doorway that led into Mallory's gaming hell. "So, this is the place!"

  Kit snorted derisively. "Honestly, Charles, would you really have me believe that you have never seen it before?"

  The Duke of Rawly tutted. He clearly did not approve of a Marquess being spoken to in that manner by a man who had lately sunk as low as Kit Yardsley.

  They had brought a pack of footmen with them, but Harry gestured to them to wait outside. "I do not want to start a fight unnecessarily," he said. "Though I am more than prepared to use my fists – and more – if I must. Chiltern, I know that Julia is very dear to you, and so I counsel you to keep a cool head. Perhaps it would be better if you stayed here."

  Charles wondered what violence Harry saw in his face. "I am resolved to come with you," he said. "I can make you no promises, but I hope you will not be dissatisfied with my conduct."

  Harry nodded, and lifted his hand to rap on the door to Mallory's.

  It was opened by an enormous man with a bald head and several tattoos. He looked over the four gentlemen with a beady eye, and silently nodded them in.

  "Now," muttered Harry, "remember what I told you. We are under no circumstances to alert Mr Mallory to the reason why we are here. Use your assumed names, and make enquiries where you can. Everything must be done in the greatest secrecy –"

  "Julia!" exclaimed Charles. His heart thudded to a stop in his chest. There she was – pale and unhappy but as beautiful as ever, sitting at one of the sticky tables on the other side of the room. He could hardly believe it. Without a thought for their carefully constructed plans, he ran towards her.

  Behind him, Harry cursed and made a grab for his arm. Charles shrugged the Duke roughly away and kept running. He felt the incurious eyes of the men at the gaming tables lap over him and look away again. In a place like Mallory's, it did not do to pay anyone close attention.

  "Julia!"

  At last, she looked up and saw him.

  Charles did not know exactly what he had been hoping for. He had pictured again and again, so many times that it was a torment which had driven sleep from him, the moment when he was reunited with Julia. In all his hopeless dreams, she had been happy, repentant, tearful – but never afraid.

  It was plain to see that she was terribly afraid now.

  "Charles!" she gasped. Even in her distress, the sound of his voice was musical on her lips. "You cannot be here! Please, you cannot be here! If Edmund sees you –" She looked around wildly. "Charles, for goodness' sake, you must leave at once!"

  "I will do no such thing," said Charles, taking her in his arms. Julia struggled for a moment, but she was unable to resist him. Slowly, deliciously, her head fell onto his shoulder. Her hands clutched at his shirt. She was his again, his entirely, and he would never again let her go. "My Julia, it almost killed me to see you leave Harding Hall."

  "I did it for a reason!" Julia wailed. "I cannot bear to see Edmund harm you or your family on my account. Charles, I beg you –"

  Harry, Kit, and Rawly caught up at that moment. Julia broke away from Charles, completely astonished. "Your Grace! Lord Kit! Don't tell me Charles has dragged you into this foolish mission as well. I am afraid my decision is final. I have no choice but to stay here at Mallory's."

  "That is entirely wrong," said Harry. He nodded at Charles in a show of generosity. "Chiltern, I'll let you do the honours."

  "Julia," said Charles tenderly, "I'm afraid you have never been given the full details of your parentage."

  Julia shook her head wildly. "I have already told you everything there is to know."

  "Not everything, my love," said Charles. "I think you already had some suspicions that your father was married more than once?"

  "What are you saying?" asked Julia, wide-eyed. She looked as though she already knew what he was about to say, but hardly dared believe it.

  "I am telling you that you are the only living child of the late Duke of Westbourne," said Charles. "The only living legitimate child. Your name is Lady Julia Westbourne, and you have a claim to a portion of the Westbourne fortune. But that is all beside the point, my Julia – Lady Julia – for I have learned in these past days that I cannot live without you, Duke's daughter or not.
Let me ask you now, for the third time. Will you marry me?"

  Julia's lips trembled. For a moment, Charles was afraid that it was all too much for her. Then, like the sun breaking through clouds, she smiled.

  "What do you think, Cousin Harry?" she asked, turning to the Duke of Westbourne. "Should a lady of my station stoop to accept the hand of a mere Marquess?"

  Charles grabbed her by the waist and drew her to him, eliciting from her a soft but not displeased yelp of surprise. "I take that as a yes, my darling little minx?"

  "A thousand times yes!" Julia laughed. Charles could have kissed her right then and there, in front of Westbourne, in front of Rawly, in the middle of that foul and stinking gaming hell.

  "Unhand my sister."

  Edmund was standing behind Harry, no fewer than seven men lined up at his side. Charles recognised the heavyset doorman and the unnerving Mr Silver. He moved in between Edmund and Julia. "Give it up, Mallory. We're here to take her away."

  Edmund jerked his chin in Charles's direction. "I've warned you once, Chiltern. Once ought to be enough. Do you really care so little for your precious Annabelle? You know she's not beyond my reach."

  "How dare you threaten my daughter?" growled Charles. Harry flung out a hand to stop him from launching himself at Mallory.

  "You will address your grievances to me," Harry said, in thunderous tones. "I am the head of the Marsden family, and Lady Julia is not a Mallory, but a Marsden."

  Edmund spat on the ground between Harry's shiny hessians. "What a pretty thought. I expect you can prove it, can you?"

  "The King is looking over the documents as we speak," said Harry.