The Marquess's Maddening Dilemma

by Ginny Hartman

  Eighteen long years had passed since then, and Aaron could hardly believe his son, Samuel, was now the same age he'd been when he had wed. And, by the looks of things, Samuel would marry at the same age as he, seeing as his betrothed was now en route to Tisdale Manor this very moment.

  The only problem was, Samuel was not in the country, and Aaron had no idea when that might change. He'd embarked on his grand tour six months prior, and though he occasionally sent word of his whereabouts, his correspondence was largely vague.

  Rising from his seat behind his polished mahogany desk, Aaron reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a gold key. Walking to the back of his study, he paused before a large shelf of books while his eyes searched for the slender, green bound book with gold writing. Once found, he quickly tugged on it and watched as the faux front gave way to reveal a hidden safe. He used the gold key to open it and reached inside until his hands settled on a rolled-up piece of parchment. Pulling the object from the safe, he held it in his hands and returned to his desk.

  A faded brown ribbon was tied around the document. Aaron tugged on it until it gave away then unrolled the paper before him. His eyes quickly scanned the document, though he knew every word of it by heart. It was the betrothal agreement binding his son, Lord Coldwell, to Fredrick's daughter, Lady Alexandra.

  He could still remember the day the document had been drafted and signed. He'd felt confident and excited about the prospect of one day uniting their families in such a manner. It was bittersweet for him to realize the time had finally come and that neither Fredrick nor his wife Judith, would be here for it.

  His eyes had just drifted to Fredrick's elegant and slightly faded signature when he heard his study door open. His eyes reluctantly left the page and glanced up as his butler, Remington entered the room.

  “My Lord, she has arrived.”

  Remington didn't have to say who she was, Aaron already knew, for he'd been awaiting Lady Alexandra's visit eagerly. He took a deep, fortifying breath as he began rolling the betrothal agreement in his hands.

  “Very well. Show our guests into the drawing room and see that refreshment is served. Have the footmen take Lady Alexandra's trunks to the rose room. I will be in shortly to greet her.”

  Remington bowed then silently left the room. Aaron returned the document to his safe, locked it with the key, replaced the faux book facade then moved to his desk to make sure he was leaving it just as tidy as it had been when he had entered. In his thirty-seven years of living, he'd learned that it was easier to manage life one simple task at a time than it was to try and deal with everything all at once. He decided to take that advice with him as he exited his study, heading towards the drawing room that held his son's future, a hoyden even her own brother couldn't seem to manage.

  Pausing before the door, Aaron waited for feminine chatter to assault his ears and was surprised when he was met with only silence. He thought back to the few times he'd met Alexandra, a precocious child with large, almond-shaped eyes, and wondered how much she had changed since he saw her last.

  Straightening his shoulders, he pushed the door open and entered, his eyes scanning the room for Lady Alexandra. He was surprised to find her lady's maid first, a plain, unassuming girl sitting shyly on the settee, but there was no sign of Alexandra on any of the furniture. Instead, he found her standing at the far window, her back towards him as she held the brocade drapes open so she could look out at the gardens.

  He cleared his throat and watched her turn, her red lips forming an 'o' as she noticed his presence for the first time. The almond-shaped eyes he remembered from her childhood were the same, though much more exotic looking than he remembered. He stood still as her captivating eyes, the color of freshly brewed coffee, inspected him. He suddenly felt self-conscious, wondering what she thought as she looked him over from head to toe.

  After she was finished, she walked gracefully across the room, extended her gloved hand towards him and gifted him with the most beguiling smile he'd ever seen. He inhaled sharply as he took her hand and bent over it, feeling grateful that the chit had not had the opportunity to have a season, for he was certain that if she had, some rake would've gladly compromised her, ruining her for Samuel.

  “You've aged well, my lord,” she said as he rose before her.

  Her comment made him laugh. “Did you expect a man with silver hair and wrinkles?”

  She inspected him once more, and Aaron was pleased with the image he presented to her. He was a large man, athletic and toned, with dark hair that showed the barest hint of graying at the temples. His jaw was square and firm, and his chin had only the slightest cleft. He knew his looks appealed to the ladies, for he'd had no problems attracting their attention, especially since Juliet had passed away.

  She finally finished her inspection and admitted, “I'm uncertain what I expected.” Then, changing the subject, she asked, “When will Lord Coldwell return?”

  Aaron made his way to the wing-backed chair opposite where her maid sat and said, “That I do not know, though I assume he will hasten his journey home once he receives word of your arrival at Tisdale Manor. As soon as he arrives, I will have the banns placed, and you may begin planning your wedding.”

  For a moment he watched as her flawless skin paled, making the mole above her mouth stand out in stark contrast. “Let us not be hasty about such matters.”

  “Whyever not? Is that not the purpose for your appearance here?”

  He watched as her shoulders slumped, her chin falling to her breast so she could avoid looking him in the eye. “Did my brother not tell you?”

  “Tell me what?” he asked, worried she was about to reveal some disgrace which might be hard to recover from.

  Still looking at the carpet, she replied, “That he could no longer handle me?”

  “He did mention something of that nature.”

  “Did he not divulge any details?” she asked, finally lifting her eyes to his.

  Those blasted eyes settled upon him, causing a strange stirring sensation in his stomach. He had to force himself not to look away. “None,” he admitted.

  He expected her to be relieved by his admission and was surprised when her brows furrowed in disappointment instead. “How dull my brother is. I suppose I'll have to tell you myself. Would you like me to start at the beginning or should I simply tell you what I did that finally provoked him to send me away?”

  Aaron stared at her, surprised by her willingness to admit her follies. Across from him, her maid cleared her throat and interjected nervously, “Milady, I'm not entirely sure you should speak of such things.”

  His curiosity piqued, Aaron leaned forward, his elbows resting on his thighs, and looked Lady Alexandra squarely in the eyes. “I insist you go on.”

  Her maid gasped, throwing one hand over her mouth. Lady Alexandra turned to her and addressed her before satisfying his curiosity. “Jenny, I had enough scolding at Channing House. Remember your promise?”

  Jenny slowly nodded, though she didn't appear quite sure of what she was agreeing to. “Yes, milady, but—”

  Lady Alexandra cut her off, “Why don't you go find my bedchamber and begin unpacking my belongings.” It was more of a command than a suggestion.

  Jenny looked at her mistress and Aaron. “But it isn't proper for me to leave you alone.”

  Lady Alexandra threw back her head and laughed. “He's practically my father-in-law. You shan't worry about us.”

  “Very well,” Jenny said reluctantly before scurrying out of the room.

  Once alone, Lady Alexandra picked up the teapot and began to pour. “Tea?”

  “I'd rather hear your story,” he admitted.

  “Very well.” She set aside the teacup without so much as taking a sip, folded her hands in her lap and continued, “Levi sent me away because he caught me dressing as a boy.”

  She said it with so much ease, Aaron had to lean forward and ask her to repeat herself. “What was that?”

  “L
evi caught me dressing in boy's clothing.”

  For a moment he was distracted by the thought of the girl before him in breeches. He glanced to her skirts and tried to imagine what that would look like. “Why would you do that?” he asked, a bit nonplussed by her admission.

  She shrugged one shoulder and answered casually as if they were merely discussing the weather, “Because I wanted to straddle my horse and ride bareback. I couldn't very well do that in a dress, now could I?”

  Wicked images appeared out of nowhere in his mind, causing Aaron to feel heated. He tugged at his cravat and glanced away, inwardly chastising himself for having such inappropriate thoughts about his future daughter-in-law.

  “I take it you've learned your lesson and will never do something so scandalous again?” He tried his best to sound authoritative but found that scolding her was nothing like scolding his own son.

  “I can't make any promises,” she answered candidly, and Aaron didn't know if he should be pleased by her honesty or annoyed by it.

  “I could lock you in the tower,” he suggested, only half joking.

  She looked at him as if he were daft. “There are no towers here.”

  She was right, the large manor home was more or less a gigantic rectangle, with not much architectural variety.

  “What about my study then?”

  “And risk seeing me every time you have business to attend to? I don't surmise you'd find that very desirable.”

  Aaron closed his eyes in shock as an unbidden image filled his mind. Her, in his study wearing nothing but a thin, cotton nightgown. Him in his dressing gown, taking her into his arms and laying her across his desk, knocking various objects to the ground in the process. He forced his mind to quit right before he kissed her in his fantasy.

  He quickly rose from his seat, his eyes trained on the mantel behind her to avoid looking at her face as he said curtly, “It'll be in your best interest to behave yourself while you are under my care.”

  She rose, coming close enough for him to smell the scent of orange blossom in her hair, but he still refused to make eye contact. “What will happen if I do not? Will you spank me like Levi spanked my best friend the night he caught Lydia running off with me? Or will you do something more drastic, like break the betrothal agreement between your son and me?”

  “I couldn't do that even if I wanted to.”

  “Break the agreement,” she asked, her warm breath fanning his neck as she spoke, “or spank me?”

  “Break the agreement,” he said between gritted teeth. “It is not in my power to do so.”

  “Drat,” she cursed, surprising him.

  “Why would you want it broken? What have you against my son?” he asked defensively, wondering how this chit dared be so defiant.

  “I have my reasons,” she answered vaguely, irritating Aaron further.

  “Look,” he said, losing his patience, “the betrothal agreement has been in force since the day you were born. It is legally binding, and it is what your father wanted. Don't you wish to please him?”

  “Please a dead man?” she asked, her voice going shrill. “Nay, I'd much rather please myself since it is I who will have to live with the consequences.”

  It was as if her warm, coffee eyes had grown cold. She stared at him angrily, her chin jutting out and her shoulders erect. She was looking at him as if he were the enemy and suddenly he wanted to let her know that wasn't the case.

  Stepping forward, he placed his hand on her shoulder then quickly withdrew it when his thumb grazed against bare skin causing him to feel as if he'd been scorched. He took a hasty step back from her and stiffened. “I will have a servant show you to your room. Dinner will be served at eight in the dining room. Till then,” he said as he bowed slightly then disappeared from the room.

  Who was this vixen sent to torment him, he wondered as he slammed the door of his study behind him and dropped into one of the leather chairs, cupping his head in his hands. Looking at the Aubusson rug beneath his feet he scoffed at the irony. He'd been searching for his entire life for a woman who could ignite some sort of passion in him and had never found it until his son's betrothed appeared at his house.

  Alexandra's melancholy intensified as she sat alone at the long table in the center of the dining room. She repeatedly dipped her spoon in her now cold soup, never once taking a bite as she stared blankly at the gold damask papered wall opposite her. It was covered in decorative china plates, each one different and unique.

  She'd been under the impression that Lord Emberson would be joining her for dinner, but when she arrived there had only been one place set at the table, a clear indication that she was to dine alone. It wasn't that she'd been eager for his company, but she found after spending the entire afternoon alone; she was rather anxious for some conversation. Alexandra was not one to enjoy solitude; she found it entirely too dull.

  Her spoon clanked loudly as she dropped it into the bowl. Just then a servant arrived with a covered tray. Before he even had the chance to remove the lid and show her what delicacy it contained, she rose from her chair and placed her linen napkin on the table next to her soup.

  “I am finished, thank you.”

  The servant looked at her to the neglected soup and asked, “Are you certain, my lady? I can assure you don't want to miss out on the roasted duck.” He removed the lid with a flourish and continued, “It's one of the cook's specialties.”

  Alexandra eyed the duck as she inhaled deeply of its aroma. Surprisingly, her stomach grumbled, and she dropped into her seat. “It does look delightful. Very well, you may serve me.”

  The servant dished her up a hearty serving of duck before disappearing, leaving her alone once more. She quickly inhaled the duck, admitting it was the best she'd ever had, before wiping her mouth with her napkin then quitting the room before more courses could be presented to her.

  Out in the hall, Alexandra paused, looking about to determine where she should go. She had no desire to go back to her room to read and decided to explore the manor instead. From the outside, the house appeared rather plain. Its red brick had faded over the years, and one side of the home was covered in thick ivy. However, the plain exterior was completely forgotten once one stepped inside.

  It was apparent the house had gone through extensive renovations since its inception, for every room was delightfully modern in appearance, lacking nothing by way of elegance. It was decorated tastefully, almost to the point of being boring, except for the fact that every once in awhile the eye would meet with an almost shocking surprise.

  For example, as Alexandra pushed open the doors to the ballroom, she was greeted with a generous space that sparkled with its gold gilded mirrors and excessive amounts of crystal chandeliers. Though opulent, that was not what surprised her. In the far corner of the room stood a bright turquoise pianoforte. She blinked several times as she looked at it, unsure if her eyes were playing tricks on her. To verify they were not, she waltzed over to the instrument and ran one hand along its smooth surface. Sure enough, the pianoforte was turquoise. For some reason, that made her happy. She'd never seen a turquoise pianoforte and had certainly never expected to find one in the Marquess's ballroom.

  Unable to resist the pull of such a unique instrument, she sat down and began to play a simple tune as she hummed along to the music. She'd never been overly good at playing the pianoforte, though her mother had insisted she have lessons. She finished her song and decided to continue on in her explorations.

  Walking through the ballroom, she couldn't help but get a glimpse of herself in the large, gilded mirrors. Finally, she stopped and turned to inspect herself more fully in one. She had changed into a peach gown for dinner, and her hair had been painstakingly curled and piled atop her head. Jenny had insisted she look her best to dine with the Marquess. Alexandra rolled her eyes, knowing her efforts had been in vain. Besides, she was certain Lord Emberson didn't give a fig about her appearance any more than she cared about his.

 
Liar

  The voice in her head was her own, but it shouted loud enough to give her pause. She could no longer look herself in the eye and quickly averted her gaze away from her reflection. Of course, she'd met Lord Emberson before, but the visits had been few and far between. In fact, the last memory she had of him was at his wife's funeral nearly ten years ago. In the time since, she'd hardly thought of him at all, for there was never any need. So, seeing him today was quite the surprise.

  She truly had no expectations of what their encounter would be like and was still surprised to realize he was much, much younger than she figured he'd be. Staring into his handsome face, his gray eyes intently upon her, it was hard to imagine he was old enough to have a son of marriageable age, or that one day he'd be her father-in-law. He was not at all what she imagined a father to be. She quickly counted the age difference between her father and Lord Emberson and realized it was nearly thirty years!

  Alexandra lifted her skirts and hurried from the room, berating herself for spending so much time thinking about the Marquess. The fact that he was the most handsome man she'd ever beheld, with his wildly rugged good looks, did not signify.

  Her pace was swift as she hurried down the hall, as if she could outrun her unruly thoughts. She tried to picture Lord Coldwell in her mind to block out images of his father but found she couldn't seem to recall what he looked like.

  Luckily for her, she soon found herself in the gallery, where countless portraits of Beaumonts were displayed proudly on the walls. It appeared they were hung in chronological order, so she quickly glided past the older ancestors and made her way to the end of the hall where the most recent portraits hung.

  Her eyes at once settled on a large, almost overbearing picture of Lord Emberson and his late wife, Lady Juliet. Lord Emberson's jaw was hard, and his eyes seemed cold. Besides him, Lady Juliet appeared just as icy. She was a beautiful woman, no doubt, with her golden blond hair and alabaster complexion, but the coldness in her blue eyes caused Alexandra to shiver.