Enchanted by the Mysterious Marquess: A Clean & Sweet Regency Historical Romance

by Fanny Finch

  Lavinia felt the warmth of excitement coursing through her veins. She couldn’t understand why she was trusting this man, or why she had agreed to such a dangerous plan, but she couldn’t deny how it made her feel alive and awake in a way she had not experienced before.

  And then, the Marquess’ expression darkened as he gazed at a group of men at the side of the room. At his next words her joy vanished.

  “You must not entertain any of the men you are currently considering for marriage. I know there are several who are interested in courting you. Consider your choices wisely and choose none of those currently seeking your hand.”

  Lavinia’s mood plummeted as she considered what he said. Did he truly believe she was entertaining anyone currently? Did he think she was the kind of woman who entertained several men at the same time?

  Her temper bristled, a frown covering her face. When she spoke, it was in a hissing whisper.

  “I will have you know, my lord, that I am not currently entertaining the idea of courtship with anyone. Let alone multiple men.”

  She turned on her heel and marched away. Before long, she gathered her things and left the party early, her mood soured, her evening ruined.

  Chapter 6

  Myles watched Miss Bronson and her mother bidding their farewell to their hosts and leaving the manor. He found himself wishing Miss Bronson turned around and looked at him one last time, but she never did. No, he wished Lavinia turn to look at him. Her name, a name he had no right to use, echoed in his head as his thoughts tried it out for the first time.

  He was horribly disappointed in himself, realizing he had opened his mouth and barked instructions at the woman as if she was a child to be scolded or a soldier to be disciplined.

  His intentions had been to caution her enough to not do anything rash before he explained more to her. He had also hoped he could repair the damage he had done at the funeral, bridge that chasm his impatience had caused. Up until that moment, he thought he was quite accomplishing that.

  And then, he didn’t think before he spoke, didn’t consider beforehand how his words might be received, and therefore managed to offend her. All the trust he had been attempting to build, crumbled to ruins. Now, there was no telling if she would appear at the meeting point he set. No guarantee that she would even speak to him again.

  Myles sighed. Well, there wasn’t much he could do about it now. He had to wait and hope for the desirable outcome.

  Around him, couples continued dancing, people were engaged in pleasant conversation, men discussed business. Myles discovered he had no interest in talking to any of them, which wasn’t unusual.

  Ever since he was a child, he had often felt out of place among his peers. As if he didn’t quite belong, as if their pleasantries and their smiles were less than genuine, a game he didn’t possess the knowledge or the skills to play. He had found solace in the Navy. Peace amidst a war, as odd as that sounded.

  Or perhaps it was simply obtaining a clear purpose, a straightforward goal he could see and fight towards. Perhaps Sir Edward, in all his wisdom, had determined that about him, Myles thought. His innermost thoughts and fears and anxiety. Perhaps by asking this promise of him, Sir Edward gifted Myles with what he sorely needed after he left the Navy.

  A new purpose to wake up every morning for.

  Myles shook his head and retreated to the room where his jacket, hat, and gloves were waiting for him. He slipped them on and tapped the attendant on the shoulder. “Tell my driver to meet me out front with the carriage.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  The footman knew who he was from his last visit to Windingham Manor. They had a brief conversation about the annoyance of squirrels as Myles waited. When his carriage arrived, Myles bid the footman goodnight and descended the marble steps to where his driver awaited with the door open.

  Suddenly, chills covered his arms. Myles halted, an uneasy feeling overcoming him. His time in the Navy had honed his instincts. He could sense when someone was watching him. He could almost feel the malicious intent crawling over his skin.

  He peered around him. In the dim light of the torches dotting the front garden of the manor, he could see shadows of several people walking and talking. None paid attention to him, yet the feeling persisted.

  Could it be someone watching him from one of the dozens of dark windows of the manor, unseen inside a room that was supposed to be locked? Could it be someone across the street, cloaked by shadows and safe in the anonymity of the night?

  Whoever it was, Myles was certain his dance with Lavinia had something to do with it.

  He shoved the strange sense of ominous danger down as hard as he could and continued down the steps. He feigned ignorance of being watched, all the while able to feel the eyes boring on the back of his skull.

  He never once felt fear. No, the Marquess of Kent had relinquished fear long ago. A prey he might look like to the eyes of this hidden fiend, but God help them should they act on that false assumption.

  He climbed into the carriage, closing the door and tapping on the side to let the driver know he was ready to go. The coachman pushed the horses hard and soon they were distancing themselves from the manor at a high speed.

  Myles relaxed back in his seat for the ride, letting his thoughts wander. He was a man who prided himself on being a controlled, calm thinker, a man of action, not just words. He got things done. He accomplished as many things during the day as possible to make it a successful day.

  Lately however his thoughts had been scattered, consumed by the task of keeping his promise to Sir Edward. In three days, he and Lavinia would meet and he would allow himself to be open with her. He would tell her as much as he could to help guide her toward the truth of the matter.

  He had promised not to be completely open with Lavinia. The safest way for her to find out her father’s secret was for Myles to leave clues for her. He would ask her leading questions, so her thoughts would follow his own.

  How he wished he could just tell her. But his honor was at stake. He respected Sir Edward too much to go against his wishes. If Sir Edward wanted it done a certain way, Myles had to trust that was the best way to go about it.

  He concentrated on what he planned to say to Lavinia. He would rehearse it for the next three days until he had it memorized. If only she would come.

  It was not be easy to predict what her reaction to his information might be. He did not know her well enough to know how she would feel. He could only guess based on her father’s description of her over the years.

  He suddenly wished he had brought up reading during their dance. Perhaps it would have lightened the mood and they could have had a lovely conversation about one of her favorite books. Perhaps she would not have been so offended when he gave her that last warning.

  Perhaps he should not have offered the repeated warning a second time in this abrupt way.

  He closed his eyes, his tired mind reliving the dance. What could he have said differently? All he wanted to do was set up a time for them to speak privately so he could be more open with her.

  He replayed his own words in his mind, wishing he could have just blurted everything out right then and there. It was obvious by the look on her face that is what she would have preferred.

  But what he knew could not be told in public. He was not even sure how to go about his task without revealing too much. Sir Edward had entrusted him with a task that was more important to the old man than anything else.

  The Marquess of Kent rested his head back. The only sound was the rolling wheels. It gave him some peace. After a few moments, he dozed off.

  In the dreams produced by a foggy mind, he saw Lavinia in her silken gown, dancing and smiling. She moved as gracefully as a blade of grass bending in the wind, a golden-green warm summer within his grasp.

  When he tried to touch her though, to dance with her, she eluded him like water through his fingers. She moved further and further away, where in the periphery, shadowy figures lurked.


  Myles struggled to reach her, to stop her, but couldn’t. She was slipping away, and leaving only darkness behind.

  He was startled awake when the carriage ran over a rough patch in the road. He sucked in a deep breath and placed his hands flat on the back of the bench seat to steady himself. He looked out both windows. He recognized the land. They were arriving at his manor.

  The carriage stopped and the coachman opened the door. “Are you alright, my lord?” he asked, seeing Myles’s face.

  Myles rubbed his eyes, only imagining how he must look. “It has been a long night, Thomas. A particularly long and strange night.”

  The Marquess of Kent grunted as he pulled himself forward to get out of the carriage. “I am spent. I am retiring to my room immediately.”

  He let himself in the front door, dropping his jacket, gloves, and hat on the table by the front door. The housekeeper would pick them up later. He went directly to the stairs and went up to the rooms he occupied on the second floor.

  He did not bother to undress. He kicked off his shoes at the foot of the bed, rounded it and flopped down. After a moment of stillness, he turned over and undid the upper buttons of his shirt, loosening the collar around his neck. He threw his arms out from side to side, his eyelids heavy.

  His last thought before sleep overtook him was the strangest one of all.

  In the dream he had in the carriage, a sensation had overwhelmed him, one he had forgotten how it felt.

  For the first time after a long time, the Marquess of Kent had felt fear.

  But not for himself.

  Chapter 7

  The day of the her meeting with the Marquess dawned like any other. For Lavinia however, everything felt different.

  Since the night of the dance, she had thought of little else. The Marquess’s insinuation that she must not entertain other men, as if he owned her and could tell her what to do, could not leave her thoughts.

  How could he think of her in such a way? It was inconceivable. If a man could insinuate such a thing, why should she want to have anything to do with him at all?

  Lavinia felt the urge to make sure the Marquess didn’t believe she was that kind of woman. She was an honorable, loyal, faithful woman. It offended her that he would assume anything different, more than she cared to admit. After all, why would she want to prove anything to him? His opinion of her didn’t matter. He was nothing to her.

  Alas, she was helplessly reliving the dance in her mind many times during the day. She kept reminiscing how it felt to have him so close to her. The feeling of his large, rough hand holding hers as they danced. The fathomless blue of his eyes. The shape of his strong brow and thin lips.

  When she had stood so close to him, a feeling of security had washed over her like never before. There was nothing about him that caused her to fear. She instinctively knew he would not allow her to be hurt in any way.

  And then came his negative assumption of her, the impertinence of ordering her what to do. It had caught her off guard and ruined everything.

  Lavinia shook her head, running her hand over the railing as she went down the steps to the dining hall for breakfast. The morning was still young but she had awoken near the crack of dawn nonetheless. Her anxiety and indecisiveness about whether she would go to meet the Marquess or not had prevented her from sleeping the way she desired. She blamed the Marquess for that, albeit she didn’t know exactly why.

  Lavinia sighed. She did not want to have her mind consumed with thoughts of a man, no matter how handsome and attractive he was.

  She reached the bottom of the steps and turned to her right to go to the dining hall. She could smell the sweet scent of honey biscuits in the air. Her stomach grumbled hungrily. She put her hand over it.

  She was seated quickly and smiled at the maid, Helene, who brought her eggs, ham, bacon, juice, and the biscuits she had so eagerly been waiting for. Helene had worked as the maid for almost ten years and acted as companion to Lavinia when she was a teenager . She had given Lavinia advice over the years and was amiable and kind to everyone. She seemed to enjoy her job, which made it easier for her to do the work necessary.

  “Have you many chores to do today, Helene?” she asked.

  “I have only my normal chores, my lady,” the maid responded. “OnIy what I normally have to do around the house.”

  “I have decided I want to do some shopping and would like you to accompany me.”

  Helene smiled at her. “I would be honored to accompany you.”

  “Wonderful. We will leave shortly after breakfast.”

  “Will Lady Bronson be joining us, Miss?”

  “I do not believe so. She has her own plans.”

  Helene nodded. “Very well. I will be waiting in the foyer.”

  Lavinia watched the older woman go back to the kitchen.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of her mother, looking proper and pretty in a green dress with gold trim. She did not look like she would be spending the day in the house. Lavinia was happy to see her mother was finally getting out and being sociable. She had many friends and was well-liked by the ton.

  She walked gracefully to her daughter’s chair, leaned over and gave Lavinia a light kiss on the cheek. Lavinia tilted her head and received the kiss with a gentle smile.

  “Good morning, Mother,” she said.

  “Good morning, Lavi. Are you well today?”

  “I am, thank you. Did you sleep well?”

  “I did, thank you.” Her mother moved to sit in her chair. Lavinia watched her, remembering the many times her father had pulled out that very chair and pushed it back in when his wife was seated. Picturing him made her heart heavy. She missed him and had no doubt her mother did, too.

  Lavinia had not told her mother anything about the Marquess. She had decided she would not go meet him and had filled her mind with plans for the day to distract her from her distress. Her anger at the Marquess for assuming she was a woman who entertained many men was still coursing through her veins.

  The very thought put her on edge.

  She pondered what she would say when her mother asked her if she had plans for the day. Since she had already decided to shop for ribbons and find the fabric she wanted for her new dress, she did not have to lie. She was not obligated to tell her mother the Marquess had invited her for a mysterious meeting.

  As she had predicted, only a few moments passed before Lady Bronson asked that very question. She smiled at her mother.

  “I am going to look for the fabric I would like for my next dress with Helene. I plan to look around at some of the shops. Is there anything you need? Would you like to come along?”

  Lady Bronson, who had been nodding politely as her daughter spoke, shook her head. “No, thank you, dear. I have my own plans today with my cousin Delia.”

  Lavinia felt a wash of guilt and shame move through her. She had not asked about her mother’s cousin since Delia’s husband died. “Oh my,” she said in a regretful voice. “How is Delia feeling?”

  Lady Bronson turned her head to look as Helene came in the room with a tray of food for her. “She is as can be expected.”

  “I am glad you have someone to share your pain with, mother, though it is with a heavy heart that I realize the reason for that. It is a tragedy that she lost her husband. My prayers are with her. I am ashamed I have not asked about her before this.”

  “Do not feel bad, my dear,” Mrs. Bronson said as Helene put the tray on a nearby table and began to unload it. She smiled at Helene. “Thank you, dear.”

  As the maid continued, her mother leaned over to Lavinia and patted her on the hand. “You must not feel bad, Lavi. You are correct that it is good that if Delia and I must deal with the tragedy, we are doing it together. Companionship means so much in this world. Having someone to lean on in times of trouble is often what keeps us going.”

  “What other choice do we have?” Lavinia asked the question in a gentle voice. “Other than being strong,
I mean.”

  Her mother’s demeanor was somber, suggesting Delia was not quite as well off as she was portraying. Lady Bronson looked at her daughter.

  “If I did not have you and a reason to continue, I may very well have curled up in my bed and never left. We all need someone. We were not put on this earth to walk alone.”

  Lavinia thought about her mother’s words as she piled her eggs on a biscuit and took a bite. Chewing thoughtfully, she gazed through the window on the other side of the room at the bright, sunny sky outside. It was a sunny day in London and she was glad to take advantage of it.

  “Speaking of walking the earth alone,” her mother continued, lifting her tea cup to her lips with both hands. “Do you have any new thoughts regarding a suitor? I have not heard anything from you about that lately.”