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

by Fanny Finch

  Lavinia had been nervous enough for this meeting to ask Helene to come with her. She didn’t fear the Marquess, neither did she mistrust him that he would do something inappropriate. It was herself she feared would succumb to the temptation to reach for his hand or stand too close.

  He was waiting for her right outside, leaning against the stone wall of the church. His face lit up once he saw her. Lavinia smiled hesitantly, looking up into his eyes. She wished she knew what he was thinking.

  “Shall we?” The Marquess said, holding his hand out toward the path that led to the garden.

  Helene stayed a few feet behind, following them as they walked side by side down the path. Lavinia was surprised that the Marquess was walking so close that his shirt sleeve brushed against hers. She was a bit uncomfortable but only because it enhanced her attraction to him.

  “Miss Bronson, I must tell you something that may be a bit unsettling.”

  Lavinia looked up at him. His voice was deep and brooding, as if he was about to reveal a great secret. Her heart sped up a little and she forced herself to stay calm. She cleared her throat softly and said in a light tone, “That would not be a first, my lord.”

  The Marquess grinned down at her. “This is true.”

  “I am sorry to tease, please continue.” Lavinia had failed to keep her heart from racing. What could the Marquess possibly have to say that was more unsettling than his warning? What was more unsettling than the great mystery that surrounded him?

  “I fear you may be in graver danger than I originally anticipated. It may not be something you are willing to accept.” He stopped talking. Lavinia was looking up at him through curious eyes but he was not returning her gaze. His was steady in front of him. With each step, his arm brushed against hers, giving her a slight tingle that she enjoyed.

  “What is it, my lord? What can you tell me?”

  Did he know about Sir Henry’s proposal? Had he caught on that the man was pursuing her to great lengths? It was his warning that made her wary of Sir Henry in the first place.

  The Marquess looked like he was struggling to come up with the right words. She knew he was ashamed that he rarely seemed to come up with the best way to say what needed to be said. He did not have to tell her it was so. She had become accustomed to the contortions of his face in a short time.

  Even when he was not with her, he had been on her mind as she ran their conversations through her memory. She thought about him often.

  The Marquess walked so close to her, he was bumping against her lightly, his arm jostling against hers. The touch shot a tingling sensation down her arm, into her hand. She wanted to touch him. She wanted him to put his arm around her.

  But he didn’t. And neither did she.

  After another moment of silence, the Marquess spoke again. “It appears as though one of the men pursuing you may be attempting to eliminate any other suitors who might ask for your hand. It is quite daunting, my lady, for any man who seeks your hand.”

  Lavinia’s eyes opened wide. She stared at him, a tingle of horror sliding down her spine. Her heart dropped into her stomach and she felt ill. “Eliminate?” she repeated the word slowly. “Are you attempting to jest, my lord?”

  He shook his head. “I would never be humorous about a serious situation such as this. Someone tried to shoot me a few days ago, Miss Bronson. It is by pure chance that I am still alive.”

  Lavinia gasped. A sudden dizziness overcame her and she swayed on her feet.

  “Miss Bronson!” the Marquess supported her, alarmed. “Are you quite alright?”

  Weakly, Lavinia shook her head. “Why would anyone do such a thing?” she managed to whisper. Her head was spinning. She welcomed the solid presence of the Marquess next to her, his hand on her elbow. She wanted to lean her head on his chest, close her eyes, and pretend none of this was true.

  She could not imagine anyone thinking she was valuable enough to kill for. She could not imagine Sir Franklin or Sir Henry doing something like that. Neither seemed the type of man to be so aggressive. The mere possibility of the Marquess getting injured because of her, or worse, nearly stopped her heart.

  Her mind whirled as she tried to rationalize the situation she found herself in. “Oh dear, what can I do?” she moaned.

  The Marquess lowered his head, moving his eyes back and forth across the grassy grounds, unable to meet her eyes when she looked back up at him. They were filled with tears. She blinked them away, allowing several to slide down her cheeks.

  “I cannot bear the thought of someone wishing to do harm to another because of me. I am only one woman.”

  “You are a valuable woman in many ways, Miss Bronson.”

  Lavinia was taken aback by his response. It seemed formal but was said with a warmth she had not heard before.

  “Please, my lord. I cannot imagine such a thing. I simply cannot imagine it! I can think of no man who values me enough for that, except one and he is in Heaven.”

  The mention of her father made the Marquess’ eyes swivel back to her. “I can only tell you that this man desires you for your money. It is the money and land that is valuable to him.”

  Lavinia frowned, her heart still heavy with the news of this evil man who had invaded her life. “So this man intends to sell my family estate for money once we are married? And he is willing to murder for the chance at his ill-gotten gains? I am simply shocked by this.”

  Lavinia was disgusted by the thought that any man would marry her simply to sell off her land from under her, though throughout time, there had been many occasions Lavinia knew of where someone married for reasons other than love. It was quite common, in fact. The thought occurred to her that if he was willing to eliminate his rivals, what would he do once she no longer proved useful to him?

  The Marquess walked along beside her in silence as she pondered what he told her.

  “Do you know who the man is?” she asked.

  The Marquess shook his head. “I would not want to utter accusations against any man without definitive evidence.”

  “I fear this will escalate and someone I care about will be hurt.”

  She thought she might be the one to get hurt, too. Or the Marquess for trying to protect her. She would simply not want to live if anything happened to the Marquess because of her. Lavinia could not bear the thought.

  “I will not allow this,” the Marquess promised fiercely. “You need not fear. I shall find who they are and take care of this matter.”

  Lavinia put her arms around herself, shuddering.

  “It is getting chilly,” the Marquess observed, taking off his jacket and draping it around her shoulders. “You should return home. It may be an isolated place, but it is not wise to stay here long.”

  As soon as the Marquess’ large jacket went around her shoulders, Lavinia was overwhelmed by his musky scent. The warmth it gave her body was immediate. She had not been cold until she was under his jacket and knew how it felt to be completely warm.

  The shoulders of the jacket hung off hers. It felt like she was wearing a heavy cape. She pulled the collar together around her neck and looked up at him, her wide eyes taking in his handsome face. She made a mental memory of it, from his deep blue eyes to his wavy brown hair to his authoritative chin. If he were her husband, she would never fear anyone.

  She could see how the Marquess would be intimidating. But she had also witnessed his softer, more vulnerable side. He comforted her in such tender ways, wiping her tears with his handkerchief, giving her his jacket when he thought she was cold. He was gazing down at her with an expression she could not decipher. She had no idea what he could have been thinking at that moment.

  “I do not mind the cold so much now,” she said softly, her eyes meeting his. “Thank you for making me warm.”

  The Marquess smiled gently. “It is my pleasure to be of help, Miss Bronson.”

  Helene had stopped when they did and was leaning over a flower, breathing in the sweet scent. Soon the flowers wou
ld be dead for the winter and they would have to wait months before the flora returned. When she saw the two of them coming back toward her, she stood up straight and smiled.

  “We are returning to the house, Helene,” Lavinia said. “I am cold.”

  Helene looked at the big jacket Lavinia returned to the Marquess. Lavinia was certain now that Helene’s loyalties lied with her and not her mother. She would not reveal anything about this meeting. “Yes, Miss.”

  They returned to the carriage and began the ride home. The warmth of the Marquess’s jacket lingered on Lavinia’s skin, as did his disturbing revelation in her mind.

  How could someone be trying to eliminate her suitors? Why would anyone value land and money over the life of another? It just did not make sense to her.

  Chapter 12

  At Myles’s request, Jasper agreed to another visit from the Marquess. In his letter, he had stated that he did not want to put a great length of time in between his visits, as he had before. He was concerned but did not state that fact to Jasper directly.

  The ride to Jasper’s London townhouse was brief. Myles did not have much time to think about what he would say. His plan was to observe his friend’s behavior. It had been strange on the hunting trip. Even Sir Jonathan noticed Jasper seemed more than just preoccupied.

  The Marquess had seen Jasper duel in the past. He was an expert marksman and did not back down from a fight unless the matter was settled in another way. He was not afraid to duel.

  Something wasn’t quite right with Jasper. Something more than being threatened by Sir Franklin and the strain this put upon him. Myles vowed to find out what it was. If anything, he wanted to help his friend but at the moment, he had no idea how he could do that.

  After he was almost shot, Jasper seemed almost unconcerned that the Marquess had almost been killed. If Myles mentioned the incident, Jasper brushed it off and steered the conversation in another direction. It made The Marquess suspicious, which in turn made him feel guilty for doubting his friend’s honesty. He couldn’t ignore his instincts, however.

  Jasper was hiding something.

  The more he had thought about it, the more The Marquess realized that if a suitor of Lavinia’s was attempting to get rid of his rivals, he was already on the list. The rumors that had circulated through the ton had solidified the notion that he had put his hat in the ring for Lavinia’s hand, even though it was not true.

  If that was the case, could Jasper have played any part in his being nearly shot? It was his estate, after all.

  His thoughts turned to the quarry and how Jasper had led them all down to it first thing. He had gone there with intention. Perhaps it was to lead The Marquess to his death?

  The Marquess shook his head. He could not believe he was thinking such thoughts about a man he had considered to be his brother for many years. He ought to be ashamed of himself for this suspiciousness.

  The carriage pulled up in front of the Federline townhouse and The Marquess stepped out, pulling his jacket around his neck to block the harsh wind that blasted against him. Instead of creeping in, it was as though winter had suddenly taken over the country.

  He moved up the steps quickly and was grateful when Federline’s butler pulled the door open before he even had a chance to knock. He passed through the door, one hand holding his hat on his head, the other clutching his jacket together at the collar.

  “Thank you,” he said breathlessly.

  “The winter has taken us over quickly, has it not, my lord?” The butler took his hat and waited while The Marquess removed his gloves and his jacket.

  “It certainly has. Where is his Lordship?”

  “He is in the parlor waiting for you, my lord.”

  “Thank you.” The Marquess handed the butler his jacket and nodded. The butler bowed and turned to put the jacket in the coat closet.

  With an apprehensive heart, the Marquess marched across the foyer to the parlor. It had been some time since he had been at the Federline townhouse. He had always admired it. Jasper and his parents before him had excellent taste in decorations. They had the finest of everything but were selective in what they purchased.

  When Jasper was left alone to his own devices while his parents traveled the world, he had kept everything the same way it was before, adding only a few things of his liking to the collection of beautiful things.

  He pushed open the door to the parlor, which was left cracked for him. Stepping in, the first thing he noticed was the roaring fire in the large stone fireplace. It created a heat that the Marquess found almost intolerable.

  Jasper was standing by the window, staring out into the street beyond. He turned when The Marquess entered a.nd jumped to his feet, crossing the room with his hands spread far apart, as wide as the smile on his face

  “Arlington, my good man. Thank you for coming!” he exclaimed with joy.

  “Thank you for accepting my request, Federline. How are you feeling?” It was an odd question, The Marquess realized it as soon as he said it. He had never inquired about his friend’s health upon meeting him, particularly because Jasper had always been a healthy man. His friend’s strange behavior had prompted him to ask. He could not remember the last time he had asked Jasper about his health.

  “I am feeling well, thank you,” Jasper responded. He turned back to the window, prompting The Marquess to walk to him and stand by his side. He clasped his hands behind his back and stood the same way as his friend, looking out the window. “And you?” Jasper inquired, curiously.

  The Marquess nodded, gazing at his friend, taking him in. He looked tired but overall healthy. “I am well.”

  They were both quiet for a moment. The Marquess felt slightly uncomfortable, a feeling he had never felt in Jasper’s presence before.

  “The winter has come.” The dark melancholy tone of Jasper’s voice made The Marquess look at him closely. He could see only his profile but noticed when his friend’s jaw clenched and unclenched repeatedly.

  “Yes, it seems so.”

  “I do not like the cold,” Jasper grumbled. “I am used to the rainy weather we have here in London but when it gets very cold, it tends to bring my mood down.”

  “I believe it is like that for many, Federline,” the Marquess replied.

  “It is restricting,” Jasper continued. “It requires staying indoors more often than I care to.”

  “Is it any warmer on your estate?” the Marquess asked, sitting in a chair and stretching his back. “I find sometimes that the country is not as chilly as the city of London during the winter.”

  “It is not warmer on my estate in the country. Unfortunately, it is placed in a valley and the heat does not tend to stay there for long. It is one of the first places to experience snow every year.”

  “That must be disappointing for you.”

  Jasper stared at the passing carriages and people. “It is of no consequence. I enjoy it during the warm months and avoid it during the cold ones.”

  The Marquess nodded. When Jasper abruptly turned away from the window and crossed the room to the bar on the other side, The Marquess spun around in his chair and watched him.

  “Would you care for a drink, Arlington?”

  “I would be grateful for a glass of wine, if you have some.”

  Jasper let out a humorless chuckle, picking up a tall bottle filled with red liquid. “I always have wine available, Arlington. You know that.”

  “Yes, I do. But it would be impolite to have asked otherwise.”

  “I asked you. And since you prefer wine today, I will also partake. I have brandy, as well, if you care for some.”

  The Marquess shook his head, smiling. “I will be quite happy with a glass of wine to warm my insides.”

  Jasper nodded, pouring two tall glasses of port wine. He carried both of them to the fireplace and stood in front of it. The Marquess realized his friend was waiting for him and moved to join him. He did not care to stand in front of the fireplace for too long.

>   He already thought it was too warm in the room. But he suffered the heat so he could watch his friend more closely. It was the first time he had felt uncomfortable in Jasper’s presence. His odd behavior had not changed. They were not speaking of anything important.

  Jasper was hardly speaking at all. He seemed to be brooding. It could not just be about the threats from Sir Franklin. He had been through much worse than mere threats. He did not just look troubled. He looked confused and defeated. These were emotions the Marquess was not used to seeing on his typically vibrant friend’s face.

  Perhaps he did not feel like playing the part of host.

  That was fine with The Marquess. He had always considered Jasper to be a friend, who did not need to treat him as a guest.