The Marquess In Her Bed (Steamy Historical Regency)

by Olivia Bennet

  Archie paused for a moment. He looked as though he was about to argue, but then stopped, and looked away. A few seconds later, he turned back to Cecilia and spoke once again.

  “I’m sorry, Cecilia,” he said, “Truly, I am. I know that you are perfectly capable of making decisions for yourself. More than capable, in fact. Perhaps I should be worried for the Marquess, actually.”

  “What on earth is that supposed to mean?” She was feigning annoyance, but she could not help but laugh.

  “Nothing, nothing, I promise!” Archie said, throwing up his hands in surrender and laughing along with her. “I shall not worry for you, nor for the Marquess. Only for myself!”

  Chapter 15

  It had been over a week since Nicholas had seen Cecilia. He had spent many hours since then remembering their conversation, and the kiss they had shared in the library. As much as he relished these memories, they were not enough. Every day that they did not see each other, he felt increasingly anxious for their next meeting.

  Perhaps I could find a reason to go to the workshop to check on the progress of the order.

  Just as this thought occurred to him, there was a knock at his chamber door.

  “Come in,” he said.

  “My Lord?” said the butler, as he entered Nicholas’ bedchamber, “The Duchess requests that you join her in her study.”

  Nicholas was surprised at this request. His mother rarely requested to speak with him privately. He felt inexplicably nervous, like a child who was about to be scolded for failing to pay attention during his lessons.

  “Yes, of course, Campbell,” he said in a casual tone of voice, “I shall go to Her Grace now. Thank you, that will be all.”

  Nicholas took a deep breath as the butler exited his room. He took a moment to collect himself before straightening his neck cloth and leaving the room.

  When he entered his mother’s study, Nicholas found her sitting at a small writing desk. Cecilia may be working on its replacement at this very moment, he could not help but think. The Duchess was reading a letter, and it took her several seconds to finish before looking up and acknowledging her son’s presence.

  The Duchess smiled briefly before saying “Hello, Nicholas, thank you for coming to see me.”

  “Of course, Mother,” he replied. “Is there something in particular that you would like to discuss?”

  “You will call upon Lady Annette tomorrow.” It was a statement rather than a request. In truth, Nicholas had no objection to this plan—he had no plans for the following day, and he enjoyed Lady Annette’s company well enough. Still, I don’t particularly appreciate being told what to do.

  “Mother, I…” Nicholas began to reply, but the Duchess immediately spoke over him.

  “Nicholas, this is not a matter for discussion,” she said in a firm voice. “You will call upon Lady Annette tomorrow while I visit Mr. Baxter’s workshop to check on the progress of his work.”

  “Perhaps I could come with you to the shop and then we could call upon Lady Annette together afterwards.” Nicholas said, hopefully.

  “No.” His mother replied with simple finality.

  “No?” Nicholas asked, nonplussed. “Why not?”

  “Because you have not seen Lady Annette in over two weeks, and the two of you seemed very fond of one another at your last meeting,” she said, “and because there is no need for both of us to visit the carpenter’s shop.”

  She paused for a moment, her gaze piercing, and then continued. “And because there is no reason for you to visit the carpenter’s daughter.”

  Nicholas felt his pulse quicken slightly, but he took a deep breath, and mastered his nerves. She cannot possibly know how I truly feel about Cecilia, can she?

  “I fail to see what the carpenter’s daughter has to do with anything,” Nicholas said in a cool voice.

  “I am not a fool, Nicholas.” The Duchess said, with a slight edge to her voice. “I could hardly fail to see the way you looked at her at our last visit. And Campbell tells me that she came to call while I was away from the house last week. That was most improper.”

  Nicholas took two deep breaths. He clenched his hands into tight fists at his sides and released them. Making sure to keep his voice calm and even, he said, “Mother, you have no need to worry. I merely made polite conversation with Miss Baxter while visiting the shop.”

  “And her visit to the estate? I take it she did not choose to come on her own?” The Duchess asked, arching an eyebrow to show her skepticism.

  “She did not,” Nicholas replied. “I met her in town by chance, and I asked her to come here so that she might discuss the particulars of the library bookcase with Isobel. She was kind enough to oblige.”

  The Duchess looked even more skeptical at this explanation. “Why would Isobel want to discuss the particulars of the bookcase?”

  Realizing that he had perhaps said too much, Nicholas was careful to give only the most minimal answer to this question. “I had mentioned to her that the design was still in question, and she seemed intrigued by the process of finding the best proportions. So, when I happened to meet Miss Baxter I thought, who better than her to explain the process to Isobel!”

  “Hmmm…” The Duchess said through her pursed lips. “Well, be that as it may, you will not accompany me to Mr. Baxter’s shop tomorrow, and will instead call upon Lady Annette.”

  Nicholas had only just opened his mouth as though to speak, but his mother continued, cutting him off before a word had escaped his lips.

  “That will be all,” she announced, “good night, Nicholas.” And she sat back down at her desk, pulling out paper, ink, and quill. Presumably she was writing a response to the letter she had been reading when Nicholas had entered the room.

  “Good night, Mother.” He replied, his voice cold and formal, and turned to leave the study.

  * * *

  Breakfast the following morning was a subdued affair. Nicholas was flustered after the previous day’s meeting with his mother, and he said little more than “good morning” for the entirety of the meal. The Duke remained in his bed chamber with another headache, and the Duchess was uncharacteristically quiet, seeming to be lost in her own thoughts.

  Only Isobel was lively. She talked of the gown she would wear for her debut, and Nicholas smiled and nodded throughout her description of the various fabrics and trimmings that would be used.

  After breakfast, both Nicholas and his mother prepared to leave for their respective destinations. Since the Earl of Leicester’s estate lay between Huxley and the Baxters’ workshop, they would travel part of the distance together, and Nicholas did not look forward to his carriage ride with the Duchess. I shall keep my silence, and give her no reason to question me further.

  As it transpired, the carriage ride was not nearly as unpleasant as Nicholas had expected. His mother was quiet for much of the way, looking out the window at the countryside rushing by. After a time she finally spoke.

  “Nicholas,” she said quietly, “thank you for agreeing to call upon Lady Annette today.”

  “You are welcome, Mother, but you give me too much credit. I had been under the impression that I had no choice.”

  The Duchess smiled at these words and said, “you shall be a Duke someday, you always have a choice, Nicholas.”

  “That is good to know!”

  “But I am still your mother,” she continued, “and it is true that I would have been quite disappointed had you not agreed to this meeting.”

  Nicholas brooded about this statement for several minutes as they continued to ride in silence.

  As they approached the Earl of Leicester’s estate, the Duchess spoke once again.

  “I really am glad that you are so fond of Lady Annette, Nicholas,” she announced suddenly, “after all, we can’t have you falling in love with another scullery maid, now can we?”

  Nicholas felt heat spreading to his cheeks at these words. He had not, in fact, fallen in love with a scullery maid, but he h
ad been indiscreet with one. All of his school friends had similar tails of secret romances with kitchen girls or maids. In his case, it had merely been a few stolen kisses and whispered endearments. Some of his friends could tell much more scandalous tales. I don’t suppose that telling Mother about how Fitz seduced his mother’s lady’s maid would make her feel any better about the situation, though.

  Nicholas chose to say nothing in response to this, and was relieved to part company with his mother when they arrived in front of Lady Annette’s home just a few minutes later. He stepped out of the carriage, giving his mother a cursory nod of farewell before walking toward the front door.

  Chapter 16

  Cecilia was in the kitchen finishing her midday meal when she heard a carriage approaching the house. She looked out of the front window and recognized the Duke of Huxley’s carriage and driver. With a thrill of excitement, she imagined Nicholas arriving at her front door in just a few minutes.

  Without realizing what she was doing, Cecilia began to smooth down her skirt, and then raised her hands to her head to feel whether her hair was disheveled. Realizing that it was, and also that her face was likely to be dirty from the day’s work, she quickly poured some water on a clean kitchen rag to wipe her face, and did what she could to smooth her hair with her hands.

  Her pulse had quickened at the mere thought of Nicholas’ arrival, and she took two deep, steadying breaths to try to calm it. Her cheeks felt warm, and she knew that they must be reddening, but there was very little that could be done about that now.

  After a few moments, when a knock finally came at the door, Cecilia opened it, excited to see the man with whom she had fallen in love. She was disappointed and somewhat surprised to discover, not Nicholas, but his mother, the Duchess of Huxley, standing on the other side of the door when she opened it.

  Cecilia managed to maintain her composure, and she felt confident that the feelings had not shown on her face.

  “Your Grace,” she said, lowering her eyes to the floor and curtseying as gracefully as she could manage, “please come in!”

  “Thank you, Miss Baxter,” the Duchess said, coolly. Am I imagining it, or does the Duchess look rather annoyed? Is she aware of what transpired between me and her son? How could she be?

  “I should like to see the shop now,” the Duchess continued, in the same cool tone of voice. “Please show me what you and your father have been working on.”

  “Yes, of course, Your Grace!” Cecilia replied, in the politest tone she could manage. “If you would please come this way.”

  Archie had gone to town to pick up the large order of supplies that Cecilia had placed the previous week, and so only Cecilia’s father was working in the shop at the moment. His back was to the door, and Cecilia waited for him to finish what he was working on before saying anything. Next to her, Cecilia could feel, rather than see, the Duchess growing increasingly impatient.

  It was only a few seconds before Cecilia’s father had finished sanding the table leg on which he had been working. At this point he put his tools down and turned to face his daughter. It was perfectly clear, from the look on his face, that he had expected Cecilia to be alone.

  “Ah!” he said, awkwardly. “Your Grace, what a pleasant surprise to see you here today! Please, please, come in!”

  The Duchess said nothing to this statement, but walked into the workshop and began inspecting the various pieces. She asked Cecilia’s father about what he had been working on, and he showed her the legs for the dining room table.

  “Ah, yes, I see,” she said, “these will be quite lovely.”

  The Duchess walked on to the next worktable and looked at the pieces laid out there. “And these,” she said, gesturing to the pieces before her, “are for the matching chairs, I assume?”

  “Yes, your Grace!” Cecilia’s father said, sounding more confident now that he had had a moment to get used to the Duchess’ presence. “That is exactly right. Of course, it can be difficult to picture the final product when looking at the disassembled pieces, but if you look closely, you’ll notice the same design in these chair legs as in the legs of the table.”

  “Yes, I see that,” said the Duchess, and Cecilia had the sense that she did not appreciate having these things explained to her by a mere carpenter, though her tone was perfectly polite.

  “Now, Miss Baxter,” said the Duchess, in a somewhat harsher tone, “tell me about the bookcase.”

  “The bookcase, your Grace?” Cecilia stammered.

  “Yes, the bookcase,” she repeated, “the one in the library. I understand that my son invited you to meet with him and my daughter last week to discuss it in detail. I should not have thought that a bookcase would require so much planning. Perhaps you can enlighten me as to why it is so complicated.”

  Cecilia knew that she must not tell the Duchess the true purpose of her meeting with Nicholas and Lady Isobel. Of course, the Duchess would never approve of her son declaring his love in such a fashion, and for her of all people. But neither could she tell her of Isobel’s desire to maintain access to a secret passageway that allowed her to escape from the house.

  “I’m afraid there is not much to tell, Your Grace,” Cecilia stammered, inventing her answer as she said it. “The original proportions of the bookcase that you proposed would have matched the other pieces in the room, but would not have fit in the designated space. Therefore, they needed to be adjusted, while still maintaining balance with the rest of the room.”

  “I see,” said the Duchess, looking intrigued, “and you needed to meet with my children to discuss the solution to that problem?”

  “Well, I have made some sketches, Your Grace,” she explained, “I had already worked out a solution that I think will work quite well. When I ran into the Marquess of Clive last week, he asked me about the problem because we had discussed it during his previous visit to the shop.”

  “And you offered to come to the estate to show him?” the Duchess asked.

  “No, Your Grace,” Cecilia explained, “I merely told Lord Clive that I had found a possible solution to the problem, and he asked me to call upon him the next day so that I could explain it in person. He said that Lady Isobel was also interested in learning more about the process. She was there during my call and I discussed the plan with her as well as with Lord Clive.”

  “I see,” said the Duchess, “well, one is constantly surprised by one’s children I suppose.”

  Cecilia’s father laughed at this and said, “Yes, Your Grace, you are quite right! I am forever surprised by Cecilia’s talents and interests.”

  The Duchess graced him with a smile and then returned her attention to Cecilia.

  “For example,” The Duchess said, “until recently, I had feared that my son, the Marquess would never marry. And yet, today he is calling upon the daughter of the Earl of Leicester. She is a lovely young Lady, well mannered, and beautiful. I expect they shall be announcing their engagement any day now.”

  Cecilia stood frozen in place for a moment. Her breathing had become shallow, and there was a ringing in her ears. Perhaps I have misheard her, or perhaps she is lying.

  “Congratulations, Your Grace!” Cecilia’s father said, enthusiastically. “We hope that you will consider us for any construction needs you may have for the wedding.”

  Cecilia managed to suppress a nervous giggle as her father said this, and made a conscious effort to relax her muscles. She had just discovered that she was clenching her fists without even realizing it.

  “Yes, Your Grace,” she managed to say, quietly. “I hope that the Marquess and his bride will be very happy in one another.”

  “Thank you,” the Duchess said, in a cool-toned voice, “I’m quite sure that Lady Annette will make an excellent wife for my son. As I said, she is well mannered, and the daughter of an Earl. She is well suited to be the next Duchess of Huxley.”

  At this last statement, she looked appraisingly at Cecilia. It was clear from her expression that she
felt Cecilia did not compare favorably to the high-born Lady Annette. Cecilia could think of nothing to say in response to this, and so she merely nodded.

  “She sounds quite lovely, Your Grace,” Cecilia’s father responded, seeming unsure of where this conversation was going.

  “Thank you, Mr. Baxter,” the Duchess said, smiling briefly at him. “Now, might I ask to speak to Miss Baxter alone for a moment?”

  “Oh…” Cecilia’s father responded, sounding confused, “I suppose that would be fine. Cecilia?”

  “Oh, yes, of course, Your Grace.” Cecilia said quickly.

  “I need to discuss some details of my new wardrobe, and I believe that a feminine touch is exactly what is needed,” she said, turning to look at Cecilia’s father. “I’m sure you understand, Mr. Baxter.”