Infinitely My Marquess

by Dawn Brower

  At least her brother had not turned into a replica of their father. Oh, he wasn’t perfect by any means, but he didn’t have a cruel streak. Marrok had no patience for idiocy and didn’t suffer fools. He could cut someone down to nothing with a glance or a few choice words if he decided to make the effort. In short, he put the description broody male to shame, and in fact, had perfected it. Annalise loved her brother, but even she could only tolerate him for so long. She pitied the female he decided to marry one day. He would be rather difficult to live with. Hell, there was no rather about it—he was a right arse on a good day. She tore her gaze away from the window and turned to him and replied to his question, “About as long as the previous time you asked. You’re worse than a small child.”

  “No more than you are.” He leaned over and peeked out of the window. “I’m serious though. Shouldn’t we be there already?”

  As he spoke the words Manchester Castle came into view. The structure was majestic and breathtaking to behold. The Wolfton ancestral home had its own beauty to it, but in a different way than Manchester. This castle seemed lighter—happier somehow. Maybe she was being a little whimsical or perhaps she longed for the freedom to be herself. Because of her father’s expectations, she always had to put on an act and pretend not to care about anyone or anything.

  “Oh, thank heavens.” Marrok leaned back on the seat. “Soon I can stretch my legs properly.”

  Annalise rolled her eyes, though she didn’t really blame him. Every inch of her muscles were stiff from sitting in the carriage for hours. It would be good to finally exit the blasted thing and walk for a little bit. The carriage turned on to the long path leading to the castle. It rolled over a bump and threw Annalise upward. Pain shot through her bottom and up her lower back as she landed on the seat. “Ouch,” she yelped, unable to hold it in.

  “I’m willing to bet you’re glad we have almost arrived as well.” Marrok chuckled gleefully. “Admit it.”

  “I hate you,” she muttered.

  “No, you don’t,” Marrok replied then laughed again. “You adore me, and we both know it.” He winked at her. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you grovel and apologize for being mean.”

  “As if I would,” she replied. “You can wait forever, and that still wouldn’t happen.” Annalise couldn’t stop her lips from tilting upward. Marrok’s revelry had lifted her out of a sour mood. She was worrying too much over nothing. Estella wouldn’t have invited her to Manchester if she hadn’t forgiven her for her actions. Lord Warwick hadn’t been harmed—much—in her scheme to place him on board Estella’s ship. They both had been miserable without each other. Now they could be happy, as they should have been all along.

  The carriage came to a stop and Marrok pushed the door open before the driver could. He was in that much of a hurry to exit their conveyance and put his feet on solid ground. Annalise chuckled lightly at his actions. Some things never changed. Marrok had always hated traveling, but he did remember how to be a gentleman. He turned and reached for her hand to help her disembark as well. “Thank you, dear brother.”

  “As always, sister dear.” He winked. “You know you can count on me.”

  They walked up to the front door and it slid open before they had a chance to rap the knocker against it. A tall lean man greeted them. “How may I help you?”

  “We’re here for a visit with Lady Warwick,” Annalise replied. “I received an invitation from her.”

  “Lady Annalise Palmer, I presume,” the tall man said. “And you are, sir? I was unaware anyone else would be accompanying the young lady.”

  “I’m her brother the Marquess of Sheffield.” Marrok lifted a brow. “Did you really expect my sister to travel alone?”

  “No,” the man replied. “I thought perhaps a maid, but not another peer. Please come in. I’ll have a footman see to your trunks.” The butler—at least that is who Annalise presumed the man was—shut the door behind them as they entered. “Will you want to rest from your long journey, or would you like to join the Lady Manchester and Lady Warwick in the sitting room for tea?”

  “I’d rather go for a walk,” Marrok replied. “I am restless from inactivity.”

  “Very good, my lord,” the butler replied. “It’ll give the housekeeper time to prepare your chambers.” He turned toward Annalise. “And you, my lady?”

  She was starting to think she should have written Estella before she left to let her know Marrok would be coming with her. “I’d like to join the ladies for tea.” Resting could wait until after she had a meeting with her stepsister. She’d never be able to relax properly otherwise.

  “Then please follow me,” the butler replied.

  He led her down a long hallway and into a large room. It didn’t resemble any sitting room she’d ever been in. There weren’t even any chairs in the room but there was one long table. “You’ll find the other ladies on the other side of the room. The butler turned and exited, leaving Annalise to fend for herself. The man was rather rude…

  She walked farther inside and could hear the distinct sounds of metal banging on metal, quickly followed by female laughter. Annalise tilted her head at the noises. How interesting… She quickened her step toward where she heard it coming from. After she turned a corner, she found the reasons for the laughter. Estella was in the midst of a fencing match with another lady. Annalise had never seen the other woman before and couldn’t be certain who she was, but she suspected it to be Lady Manchester.

  “Enough,” Estella replied after another clang of foils. “If we keep this up, your husband will come in and thrash us both.”

  The other lady relaxed her sword arm and then wrinkled her nose. “Garrick wouldn’t dare.”

  “No?” Estella lifted a brow. “He lectured us both for a full hour before agreeing to let us fence. I somehow doubt he’d appreciate it if I let you overdo things.”

  “All right,” the lady agreed. “Garrick would be upset. But I think it’s safe to say your husband would never let him lay a finger on you.”

  “That is also true.” Estella’s laughter reverberated through the room. She walked over to a nearby table and set her foil down, then picked up a teapot and poured some into a cup. “Do you think this tea is still warm?”

  “I don’t know,” the lady replied. “But I don’t care. I’m suddenly starving.” She picked up a tea cake and practically shoved it into her mouth, then grabbed the teacup from Estella’s hand and drank the contents. “That’s amazing.”

  “Pregnancy does strange thing to women.”

  “I don’t mean to interrupt…” Annalise stepped into view. “The butler…”

  “Annalise,” Estella exclaimed and rushed to her side then pulled her into a hug. “You’re here.” She stepped back. “Did you just arrive?”

  Annalise didn’t quite know what to make of her stepsister fencing with the Countess of Manchester—because that had to be who the other lady was. They seemed to have a friendly relationship that Annalise envied. She plastered a smile on her face and nodded at Estella. “A few moments ago. Marrok is with me, but you know how he is. He had to walk a bit before he could settle down.”

  “I’m glad he’s here with you. I did worry about you traveling alone,” Estella said. “Come, let me introduce you to Hannah. She’s been quite occupied with her tea and cakes, but you must forgive her rudeness. Carrying a babe has made her ravenous at times.” Estella led her over to the lady’s side. “Lady Manchester—Hannah, I’d like you to meet my stepsister, Lady Annalise Palmer.”

  Lady Manchester set her tea cup down and curtsied. “Please forgive me,” the lady in question said. “What she says is true. It besieges me often and usually quite unexpectedly.” She smiled warmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “It’s nice to meet you as well.” Annalise smiled at the woman. “And there’s no need to apologize. It’s your home, and you’re welcome to do as you wish inside its wall. Besides, if I’m ever lucky enough to have a child, I’d like people
to respect my desires.”

  “Would you like tea?”

  From the remarks made about the tea earlier, it had to be awful. Annalise was caught between being rude and consuming cold tea. The cakes did look rather delicious. Her stomach grumbled on queue to that thought. “What kind of cakes are these?”

  “Oh,” Lady Manchester said gleefully. “These are lemon cakes. I’ve had terrible cravings for them, and cook has been kind enough to make them every day for me.”

  “Do you mind?” Annalise gestured toward them. She didn’t want to take the lady’s current favorite treat from her.

  “Help yourself,” she said and pressed a hand to her stomach. “I’m not feeling well. I think I’m going to go lie down for a bit.”

  Annalise picked up one of the cakes and took a bite of it. The lemon cake was sweet and tart—utterly delicious. She could see why Lady Manchester devoured them every day. They probably went well with tea too. She stared at the tea and considered pouring a cold cup and nixed the idea. She wasn’t that thirsty…

  “Go,” Estella insisted. “We’ll visit more later.”

  Lady Manchester nodded and exited the room, leaving Estella and Annalise alone. Estella turned to her and said. “Are you tired?”

  “I am a bit,” Annalise admitted. Now that she’d met with Estella, her nervousness had dissipated. She could finally relax and maybe take a small nap. It would help her recover from her journey.

  “Come,” Estella said. “I’ll show you to your room, and later we can discuss everything.”

  Annalise smiled at her stepsister. They walked out of the large room together. The hallway was still long, and the staircase as well. The trek to her assigned room was farther than she thought. They finally reached it, and Estella hugged her again. “It’s so good to see you. Thank you for coming to visit me.”

  “There’s no place I’d rather be.”

  Estella stepped back and left her alone. Annalise closed the door behind her and then laid down on the bed. She closed her eyes and found sleep before she realized she’d stopped thinking.

  Chapter Two

  Ryan Simms, the Marquess of Cinderbury, stared at Manchester Castle from atop his horse, Octavius. The stallion snorted, then whinnied as he shook his mane. The ride from London had taken longer than he’d anticipated. The main reason was because he didn’t want to overtax his mount, and he refused to leave him in anyone else’s care. So that meant stopping often to let Octavius rest. It was good he’d finally arrived so he could check on his cousin for himself. He felt responsible for her welfare and had hoped to step in sooner. Her stepfather was an evil man. He reminded Ryan of his stepmother, but even she hadn’t been as cruel as the Duke of Wolfton.

  His grandfather had refused to step in. The Duke of Ashthrone had believed Estella would be better off in the care of her stepfather. Ryan wasn’t sure if it was a duke’s club mentality or if his grandfather recognized a little like for like in regard to the Duke of Wolfton. Either way, he couldn’t appeal to his grandfather’s good nature because the rotten bastard had none. Oh, he’d saved Ryan from his stepmother’s clutches; however, it hadn’t been out of the kindness of his heart. Ashthrone had realized Ryan would be his heir, and he had wanted to make sure that he not only survived, but was trained properly by him.

  Every second he’d spent on the duke’s estate had been one of pure misery. It should have hardened Ryan’s heart even more. It had done the opposite though—it had given him purpose. Hope when there was none to be had, and when he had finally reached his majority, he left. Taking what little remained of his inheritance—what Lady Penelope couldn’t touch—and invested it. He’d been a mere eighteen summers when he’d taken that risk and hadn’t regretted it.

  His stepmother had access to the fund’s estate in order to keep it running, but she didn’t do much upkeep on his property. His grandfather hired an estate manager, and that poor man dealt with Lady Penelope. He hadn’t checked on that part of his inheritance since he reached his majority. As long as his stepmother lived, he wouldn’t step foot near it or her. Smithers, the estate manager, set him quarterly reports, and even those he barely scanned. His stomach tightened into a knot whenever he thought about anything to do with his former home.

  By the time he’d inherited the title of Marquess of Cinderbury, he’d built a fortune in the shipping industry and was looking for more to invest in. He’d tried to fight for guardianship of his cousin, Estella, but had failed. Without the proper backing, he hadn’t stood a chance, and the Duke of Wolfton had more power than him at the time. He’d been a one and twenty then, and Estella no more than a girl of fifteen. Seven years later, he had money, prestige, and more power than even his grandfather. No one would get in his way, yet it meant nothing now that his cousin didn’t need him. She’d found a way out of her hell on her own and also had somehow found love. He owed it to her to at least pay a visit and offer his aid should she need it in the future.

  “Well, Octavius, I think it’s time to face Estella. I hope she doesn’t hate me for my failure to protect her.”

  He motioned the horse to a canter and closed the remaining distance to the castle. As he reached the entrance, he slowed down and then came to a stop. He patted Octavius’s head and then slid off the horse’s back. The door opened and an older gentleman stepped outside. “Can I help you?” he asked.

  “I’m here to see Lady Warwick,” Ryan replied. He lifted Octavius’s reins for the man to see. “I’ll need my mount stabled.”

  He almost laughed at the complete look of befuddlement that crossed the old man’s face. Did they not receive many visitors at Manchester Castle? He didn’t seem particularly welcoming…

  “I’ll send a footman out to take him for you,” he finally replied. “Give me but a moment.”

  He stepped back inside the castle, closing the door behind him. Ryan shook his head, baffled by his actions. At least he didn’t plan on staying long at the castle. No more than a night—two at most, and he’d be on his way to his own estate. He had things he had to do there and couldn’t afford to stay any longer than that. After several moments, the door opened again, but it wasn’t the old man that exited. A woman with midnight locks, high cheekbones, pink lush lips, and the most gorgeous face he’d ever seen. He didn’t know who she was, but he wanted to find out.

  She stopped, startled to see him, but recovered quickly. “Is it normal to wait outside with a horse at this castle?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” he replied. Where was that old man? “This is my first time visiting the castle.” And hopefully the last… He shouldn’t have any reason to visit again.

  The lady smiled, and it nearly took his breath away. He blinked several times and regained control of his senses. The last thing he wanted was to be struck stupid by a woman’s beauty. His father had done such a thing and married Lady Penelope. Beauty couldn’t be trusted. She took a few steps forward and stopped in front of Octavius. “He’s such a beautiful horse.” The lady began to stroke Octavius’s neck almost lovingly, and Ryan found himself jealous of his own horse. There was something seriously wrong with him.

  “He’s enjoying your attention shamelessly.” Ryan stared at her hand as she petted his horse. “You keep doing that and he’ll become spoiled.”

  “You don’t give him enough attention if my meager attempts will garner such results.” Her voice was almost melodic and enchanting. She glanced up and smiled at him again. It was like a punch to the heart, and he lifted his hand to rub the ache. “Perhaps you should pet him more often.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement.”

  The door opened, snapping him out of his maudlin thoughts. It served as a reminder that he didn’t ever want to become so attached to a female. There was one lady he cared about, and it was his cousin Estella. A different man than before came out and walked over to them. “Hello, my lord,” he greeted. “My lady.”

  “Are you here to take my horse to the stable?”

  “I am,
Lord Cinderbury,” he replied. “Your cousin is inside waiting for you. I was to tell you to find her in the sitting room.”

  Was he supposed to go wandering around a castle and hope he found the right room? No one was going to take him there. The staff was ridiculously rude and untrained. He’d never seen anything like them and wasn’t sure how he felt about the whole thing. The man took his horse and started to walk in what Ryan assumed was the direction of the stable. He frowned as he stared at the man directing his horse which way to go. Octavius would be fine, but everything had been so strange ever since he’d arrived.

  “Did he address you as Lord Cinderbury?” The lady asked. He turned to her and replied, “He did, and I am.”

  “I see.” She nibbled on her bottom lip. His eyes were immediately drawn to the action. He was developing a serious problem where the lady was concerned. Ryan had been painfully aware of her since the moment she’d stepped out of the castle, but he hoped she’d go away and the sentient feeling inside of him was a mere illusion.

  “So, you’re Estella’s cousin? I’m Lady Annalise Palmer, her stepsister.”

  Ah… He knew he shouldn’t trust her. A pretty face hid deceit well. She was related to the tyrant who’d abused Estella. The muscles in his jaw ticked as he fought for control. Ryan didn’t want to believe the worst in her; however, he couldn’t fully trust her either. “Ah—then why are you here? Wouldn’t your father disapprove of you spending any time in Estella’s company? Won’t that tarnish your pristine reputation?” He’d never had a chance to meet the man his aunt had chosen to marry. The only information he had about the duke or his family was by reputation, and none of it had been good.

  She jerked back as if he’d slapped her. Words could be weapons, and Ryan had learned that lesson rather well as a boy. His stepmother had thrown barbs at him more often than not. He’d grown accustomed to them when a young boy shouldn’t have. Some days he hated his father for being blinded by Lady Penelope’s beauty and leaving him alone in her care. Deep down, he knew his father hadn’t wanted to die, but grief and pain weren’t reasonable. He didn’t fully blame him; however, a small part of him always would. His father’s choices had left Ryan in hell. For that, he had a hard time forgiving him.