Redeeming the Marquess: Sweet and Clean Regency Romance (His Majesty's Hounds Book 6)

by Arietta Richmond

  “What?”

  Without looking up from his papers, the young man furiously crushed the sheet into a tightly-wadded ball and threw it onto the floor, exclaiming as he did so.

  “Damn them! Damn them all to the fiery pits of hell!”

  Shocked by the unexpected outburst of profanity, Georgiana gasped and turned on her heel to leave.

  “Well! By my faith. If Papa had been alive to hear such a jackanapes speak so roughly, he would have had him thrown from the house for his wretched impudence!”

  Part of her was almost tempted to find a jug of water to douse the rude young man’s fiery outburst. She was shocked, completely unused to such coarse language, and bewildered that such a crude specimen could be entertained within the walls of the Duke’s elegant household. She slammed the door behind her, determined to ignore the oaf and put the unfortunate episode behind her.

  Halfway along the corridor, she came upon an open space, a domed gallery that enjoyed windows which would illuminate the chamber with the sun’s rays during daylight hours. At night, the room was lit by tall candles. And perfectly placed upon a small, elegant, eight-sided table in the centre of the room was a magnificent chess set, the pieces carved from ivory and ebony, the figures dressed as oriental warriors and fabulously detailed.

  Georgiana was instantly bewitched. She had never seen such a beautiful set of chess pieces. Prompted by her insatiable curiosity, she reached towards one of the figures. The cool, smoothness of the beautifully carved ivory took her breath away. Such craftsmanship. The set must have cost a sultan’s ransom. The black and white chess board had also been made from an inlay of the finest ivory and ebony - its highly-polished surface provided a wonderful mirror that reflected the figures that stood, ready for battle, upon its perfect surface.

  She moved a white pawn and thought about the endless possibilities that the game offered.

  A gentle cough startled her and she raised her eyes to see the Duke standing quietly on the other side of the table, watching her carefully.

  “Good evening. I trust I didn’t startle you. Are you interested in chess, my girl? I could teach you to play, if you were willing.”

  Georgiana nodded and added a small curtsey as she gestured towards the chess set.

  “I’ve never seen such a beautiful set, Your Grace, and I have learned to play a little already.”

  The Duke laughed and threw back his head in delight.

  “Then may I tempt you, perhaps, to honour me this evening with a game? I see you’ve already made the first move. Let us play and see if I may assist you in learning a little more.”

  There were no chairs to seat the players, and the space had been designed to permit onlookers to watch the game. Perhaps even to place a wager on the outcome. Georgiana’s opening moves took the Duke a little by surprise.

  “You have, perhaps, a disadvantage, my girl, for it has been my experience that members of the fairer sex rarely win at games of war and strategy – certainly most of those of my acquaintance have no skill with such things. I hope it will not end for you too soon!”

  “Your Grace, may I ask you a question?”

  “Of course, my girl. You may ask me whatever you please.”

  Despite his bluff bravado, the Duke was having a little difficulty following Georgiana’s moves – secretly he was pleased – a challenge was good for the mind, he knew that he played chess fairly well, but he was certainly not an expert. He was, however, definitely not going to admit, to this slip of a girl, that she was making him think hard. Georgiana moved her King’s bishop and the Duke frowned.

  “I should very much like to return to Casterfield Grange and take up my responsibilities managing my inheritance.”

  “What? Oh, erm, yes. I mean No, my girl!” The Duke had been caught by surprise, the question not what he had expected at all, whilst his mind was fully engaged by the chess game. He looked up from the game and fixed his gaze on Georgiana.

  “What on earth are you asking? I cannot possibly support you in that! I promised your father that I would do all in my power to protect you. That means making sure that you have a fine husband to look after you, a suitable gentleman - a man of means who will be fit and capable to run the estate. You cannot possibly do that on your own. It would be quite unthinkable. And your fortunes would be considerably enhanced by the right marriage. Now, let’s have no more talk of you running back to Casterfield Grange, eh?”

  Georgiana moved another piece and the Duke chewed on his lower lip and stroked his chin.

  “Actually, your Grace, in truth, the house and the lands are mine. I am only claiming what is rightfully mine.”

  “No, no, no, my girl. They come to you once you’re married and not a day before. Until then, they are held by me, in trust for you. You’re my guest and I want you to be happy here for as long as you stay. I hope you’ll soon meet a gentleman to suit you, and all of this fuss will cease to be of any import. That’s my final word on the matter.”

  The Duke’s hand floated above the board, unsure which piece to move, to counter Georgiana’s subtle attack. Was it beginner’s luck?

  “Aha!” he exclaimed. “Now I have you! Check, my girl.” He smiled, with a look of relief on his face. “So, who taught you the basics of the game, eh? Must’ve been a very clever man indeed to have shown you how to play so well. You have done well for a novice.”

  Georgiana smiled.

  “It was a woman, Your Grace. Miss Millpost, in fact. It was she who taught me to play.”

  The Duke looked up, startled at this statement. He would have to reconsider his opinion of Miss Millpost, in light of this information. It seems that she was full of surprises. He began to understand why old Tillingford had kept her around for so many years.

  Georgiana reached forwards and moved a piece.

  “Checkmate, Your Grace. Thank you kindly for the game. Perhaps you will permit me to play again so that I may learn some more.” She curtsied briefly. “I shall look forward to seeing Your Grace at dinner.”

  She turned on her heel and walked back down the corridor, a slim and elegant silhouette almost lost amongst the flickering shadows cast by the candlelight. The Duke stared hard at the board and shook his head, scratching his chin and muttering to himself in utter disbelief.

  It seemed that Lady Georgiana was also full of surprises. The young girl she had seemed when he first met her, a year before, had matured into a young woman of even stronger character and opinions. He despaired of finding a man that she would choose to marry – he suspected that she was considerably more intelligent than all of them. Perhaps, unpleasant thought, he really might end up having to force the issue.

  A beautifully inlaid long-case clock chimed the hour as Georgiana again made her way along the corridor that led to the marble-floored reception area. She asked a footman to direct her to the dining room, and he responded with a deferential nod before leading her along a broad and exquisitely decorated hallway that opened out into an oak-panelled dining room which shimmered with crystal and candlelight. The dining table was almost fully occupied and she immediately noticed that she and her sister, and Miss Millpost, were the only Ladies present -a most unusual circumstance. Her sister and the Duke were already seated and Cordelia beamed with happiness as Georgiana entered the room. The Duke stood, gallant as ever, to greet his guest. Twenty young men rose as well, all correct politeness.

  “Welcome, my girl. You’re uncommonly timely for a member of the fairer sex! What other surprises do you have in store for us, eh?” He laughed at his own attempt at humour, mentally cursing his clumsy attempt to lighten the mood.

  This young woman was so much harder for him to relate to than her sister! But he would persist, he would honour her father’s last wishes and find her a husband, somehow. Georgiana nodded her head politely and smiled at her sister.

  “Nothing, I trust, that could spoil your appetite, your Grace.”

  The Duke nodded and ushered her to a cushioned chair next to his
position at the head of the table.

  “Two beautiful blooms to grace our table!” he declared to the assembled guests.

  As she passed, Georgiana bent to kiss her sister and whispered - “A thorn between two roses?”

  Cordelia giggled behind a gloved hand and gave Georgiana a reproving look that urged her to be on her best behaviour.

  The Duke stood at the head of the table and made a formal introduction to the assembly, announcing Cordelia as his bride-to-be and the future Duchess of Rotherhithe. He turned with a dramatic gesture and nodded to Georgiana.

  “Gentlemen. Can beauty confound the laws of nature and deliver two such wonders from the same line? Evidently, dear friends, lightning has conspired to strike twice in the same place for I am honoured to present to you Lady Georgiana Branley, not only beautiful, but a significant heiress in her own right.”

  Georgiana was acutely aware of a good twenty young men standing around the table, unable to sit until she did, each one appraising her as if she were a piece of livestock at a cattle auction. Despite her best intentions, she found herself blushing and cast her gaze down, to stare at the silver cutlery set before her.

  “Please, Lady Georgiana, be seated – let us be comfortable.”

  Relieved at the Duke’s words, Georgiana settled into her chair. The Duke proceeded to introduce each man in turn and, as each name was called, the gentleman again rose from his seat and bowed formally towards Georgiana. These were her erstwhile suitors, the noble youth of half a dozen counties, all intent on pressing their eligibility and claiming her hand in marriage - and in claiming the wealth to be gained from the rich lands of her estate.

  As each man stood and bowed, Georgiana took a little time to appraise them in turn. Some were exceedingly handsome and dressed in the latest fashion. Some of them were quite plain and one had such ravaged skin that Georgiana found it hard to look at him for more than a few moments. And, finally the Duke looked down the length of the grand dining table and announced Oliver, Marquess of Dartworth. To her surprise and discomfort, Georgiana recognised the exceedingly rude young man who had, in the drawing room earlier, shocked her with his appalling manners.

  He was sitting at the end of the table where there was less light from the candles, and took a long moment before responding to the Duke’s summons to rise and be recognised. So, thought Georgiana, my uncouth jackanapes is a Marquess, is he? He looked even more powerfully built as he rose to his full height, his shoulders broad and strong and his waist narrow above graceful legs. Georgiana couldn’t help noticing that he really was, by far, the most handsome man at the table. He bowed politely to Georgiana, but failed to show the slightest hint of recognition.

  As the young Marquess resumed his seat, the Duke gestured to the waiting servants to bring in the steaming soup tureens, and the dinner service began. Philip Canterwood, Duke of Rotherhithe, was justifiably proud of his wine cellar and took great delight in entertaining his guests with a selection of very fine vintages. Some of the treasured bottles had been laid down by his father and his grandfather before him. The Duke’s hospitality was legendary and his liveried serving men were soon filling fine silver goblets and hand-chased lead crystal glasses with surprisingly potent wines that loosened tongues and led to lively debate amongst the guests.

  A heated discussion soon dominated the conversation between the young nobles and the Duke listened with an air of rather paternal indulgence as the guests’ voices became louder and the conversation more animated. It seemed that Oliver, Marquess of Dartworth, was but a few years returned from the colonies with tales of the American Constitution and their concept of the rights of the common man. There were some young aristocrats around the table who firmly believed that American independence was an unnatural and wholly undesirable state of affairs.

  “My father says that if we hadn’t been fighting Bonaparte and the French, we would never have lost the Americas.”

  Oliver nodded and agreed.

  “It’s perfectly reasonable to assume that the Crown fought at a disadvantage, but the former colonies have proved themselves more than capable of self-governance. And that’s an example that perhaps this great land could learn something from.”

  “Treasonous rebellion and sedition, Sir!” shouted a man with a high-pitched voice and an almost complete lack of a chin.

  “Aye, Sir. You would turn the world upside down and replace order with chaos.” Another spoke up, looking offended at the very concept.

  Oliver smiled, showing his even white teeth.

  “Gentlemen, nothing prevails forever and it is plain to see that the American alternative is not without merit.”

  “But you would hand over power to the common people and then where would we be?”

  Oliver raised a hand and showed the callouses and hard skin that revealed hard toil in the fields.

  “As you may know, gentlemen, my late father died, leaving me barely more than his debts as a legacy. Before his death, all he cared for was gambling, hunting and spending money that should have gone to running his estates. When I spoke of that, he simply cut me off. As a result, for some years, until the beginning of hostilities with America caused me to return to England, I ran a plantation in Virginia and was obliged to pay my way with my labours as well as my skills. I can assure you that the experience was far from fatal to my constitution and that I learned much about the principles of freedom and political expression. As I say, we have much to learn from the American example, even if only to protect ourselves from rebellion in the future.”

  The voices were becoming more animated and the son of a Viscount swung his arm so violently that he spilled his goblet of wine across the damask tablecloth.

  “Gentlemen!” The voice of the Duke rang out across the room. “Whilst I encourage discussion and a free exchange of views, we need to be mindful of our manners and exercise some measure of courtesy at this table. This is not the kind of discussion which is suitable for young Ladies!”

  The Duke turned to Cordelia, and then Georgiana, his expression rueful. He noted that Miss Millpost had been following the debate with interest, and wondered what she actually thought. The assembled nobles became quiet.

  “Our young guest, the Marquess of Dartworth,” the Duke raised a manicured hand towards the young man, “may be possessed of some highly unorthodox political notions, but you’ll note that he does not raise his voice to enforce his argument.”

  He let the message sink in for a moment before resuming his conversation with Cordelia.

  Despite his earlier rudeness, Georgiana found herself agreeing with the handsome, yet impoverished, young Marquess. She discovered herself to be staring at him, which was rude of her, but she somehow could not bring herself to look away. As conversation resumed, he looked at her down the long length of the table, and Georgiana had the distinct impression that he was really seeing her for the first time. She couldn’t be entirely sure, but she thought that he was smiling at her. Not with his mouth, but with his eyes. The look only lasted a few moments and Georgiana had the feeling that, for those precious instants, her heart had stopped beating. It was only him looking away that released her to turn her attention back to food. She felt oddly flushed and a little overheated all of a sudden.

  ~~~~~

  Oliver breathed a quiet sigh of relief when the Duke interrupted the rapidly escalating conversation. Really, he should know better by now. All of these young fops had been raised in the lap of luxury, heirs to titles, protected, by their own status as heirs, from the war that had swallowed their younger siblings. They had been fed traditional views along with their daily food from the time they were babes. They were, simply, not equipped to consider the world any other way.

  It was not that he was against the ton, and their world of privilege, after all, he was a part of it, even if his father had exemplified the worst of it. He would not, in a fit of revolutionary fervour, throw away his title and abandon those tenants and others who relied on him – although it see
med that was what all of these men expected he was going to do.

  He should learn to stay silent – he could better bring change by repairing his father’s misdeeds and giving his tenants a better life in the process. That way, the estates would become profitable again, and everyone would benefit, not just him.

  The other men turned their attention back to food, obedient to the Duke’s wishes, but still muttering under their breath, as if he couldn’t hear them! Oliver looked up and discovered that Lady Georgiana was looking straight at him. Their eyes met, and, in an instant, he was lost, the room fading away around him.

  Her eyes were a deep blue green, like the sea near the shallows in the tropics, with the sun shining through it. They sparkled in the bright candlelight, watching him with interest, but no apparent condemnation.

  That was a new experience. Most people of the nobility, confronted with his opinions on learning from other forms of governing, rapidly expressed, directly or indirectly, disgust, condemnation or revulsion. Yet Lady Georgiana showed no sign of doing so – unlike the gentlemen around him.

  It was all the more startling when he remembered, with a flush of embarrassment, that moment when he had been dealing with utter frustration and she had arrived at the door just in time to hear him cursing most inappropriately. She had left before he’d had an opportunity to apologise.

  It made her intriguing.

  She was beautiful, her soft blonde hair piled up on her head, tendrils escaping to caress her cheek and neck, her skin lightly flushed, her figure the kind that men dream of.

  She was the sort of girl that could choose whoever she wanted, with beauty, breeding and money behind her. The sort of girl who wouldn’t normally give an impoverished Marquess a second glance. Yet here she was staring into his eyes, quite as intensely as he was staring into hers.

  He wanted to know more about her. He wanted, for the first time in a very long time, to be in a position to have something to offer a woman – something beyond a title and a ramshackle collection of poorly maintained estates.