Compromising the Marquess

by Wendy Soliman

  “You’re right, and I’m being a suspicious crosspatch. Forgive me, I didn’t sleep well.”

  “You do look rather heavy-eyed.” Beth frowned. “Are you sickening for something?”

  “Lord no, I’m never ill. You know that.” Leah paused. “But I still think there’s something odd about Flick’s determination to know us.”

  “Stop worrying about her motives and think about what you intend to wear tomorrow evening instead.”

  “What does that matter?” Leah dismissed the subject with a casual wave of one hand. “You’re the one who must wrestle with that thorny issue. You shall shine and I shall bask in reflected glory.”

  “No,” Beth said with uncharacteristic firmness. “I will have my way in this. My shot-silver silk is far too big for me since I became ill. I could adjust the hem, let the flounces down a little, so that it fits you.”

  “Oh, Beth, no, that’s your favourite gown.”

  “And no use to me if it’s too large.”

  “You could take it in.”

  “But you keep insisting that I shall regain my former figure, so what would be the point in that?”

  Leah flashed a rueful smile, aware that she’d been outmanoeuvred. Her most earnest desire, frequently expressed, was to see her sister restored to her former state of health. “Very well, darling, but you must promise not to tire yourself in making the adjustments.”

  Before Beth could respond, the door opened and their aunt came in unannounced.

  “Well, girls,” she said, dipping her head in acknowledgement of their curtsies. “What a to-do. Your uncle and me being invited to the Hall I can understand, but why Lady Felicity should think to invite you two is a complete mystery.”

  “Felicity is our friend,” Beth said quietly.

  “Felicity!” Aunt Augusta’s eyes bulged. “Felicity! Have you run completely mad, child? You cannot address the sister of a marquess in such a familiar manner, not even in private.”

  “She invited us to do so, aunt,” Leah said, resuming her seat.

  “What have you been up to, girl?” She narrowed her eyes at Leah. “As always, you’ve been too forward and disgraced us all with your antics.”

  Leah knew her aunt’s spite was occasioned by jealousy and wisely held her tongue.

  “What shall you wear tomorrow night, aunt?” Beth asked, effectively deflecting the woman’s wrath away from Leah.

  Leah tuned out of a conversation that centred on spider gauze, ribbons, flounces and the correct length for sleeves. She suddenly had an overwhelming urge to put to sea as cabin boy, under the auspices of a man whose intense gaze she couldn’t seem to dispel from her thoughts, and for whom she’d willingly suffer several bouts of seasickness.

  “I gave some leftover pork to Meg,” her aunt said, recalling Leah’s attention to the conversation. “I was unsure about it and thought to put it out for the dogs, but you might want to take a chance.”

  Leah bit her tongue, unable to think of anything to say that wouldn’t put additional strain on her already fragile relationship with her aunt.

  “Thank you, aunt,” Beth said sweetly.

  “What can you tell us about the Forster family?” Leah asked. “Were you not intimate with the late marquess’s second wife?”

  “Indeed I was.” Aunt Augusta tilted her chin and thrust out her chest. “We were constantly in one another’s company, until the old marquess died three years ago.”

  “His widow does not reside at the Hall?”

  Aunt Augusta sniffed. “No, there’s bad blood between her and the current marquess, and he would not permit her to remain in the district.”

  “Surely not?” Leah mused. “Why would he be so spiteful?”

  “I don’t know all the particulars because my friend found it too distressing to discuss the matter.” Without a word of thanks, Aunt Augusta accepted the cup of tea Meg handed to her and sipped at it. “This tea is too weak.”

  Leah and Meg exchanged a glance. “We prefer it that way,” Leah said.

  Aunt Augusta sniffed. “All I can tell you is that Lady Denby is not to blame for the rift with her stepson.”

  “How long ago did Lady Denby and the old marquess marry?” Leah asked.

  “Well, let me see.” Aunt Augusta’s features lost their customary pinched expression of disapproval as she showed off her intimacy with the local aristocracy. “Young Lord Gabriel was still in short coats. He could not have been more than five or six when his mother died. Since he is now one-and-twenty—”

  “Fifteen years then.”

  “It must be all of that. When Lady Denby and the marquess married, she naturally took up residence at the Hall and acted as step-mama to his children.”

  Leah nodded. “Why did that cause bad feeling?”

  “I’m not precisely sure.” Aunt Augusta’s words were accompanied by an eloquent shrug. “I do know that the current marquess was greatly attached to his mother.”

  “Are you suggesting that he resented his father’s remarriage?” Leah asked, frowning. The gentleman she’d crossed swords with the night before didn’t strike her as being that mean-spirited.

  “Perhaps he did, I really couldn’t say. He would have been fourteen or fifteen when his mother passed.”

  “An impressionable age,” Leah said, eager to hear more.

  “Indeed. My friend tried to be a good mother to her stepchildren but her efforts were not appreciated. Henry, the eldest, was away at school but I believe there was some unpleasantness whenever he came home.” Aunt Augusta sighed. “Then, of course, Lady Denby produced children of her own.”

  “She and the marquess have a family?” Leah hadn’t known that.

  “Oh yes, a boy and a girl.”

  “So Felicity does have a sister,” Beth said. “Well, a half sister.”

  “Yes, but there’s quite an age gap. I don’t think they were ever intimate.”

  “Where are they now?” Leah asked. “If the marquess doesn’t wish his stepmother to reside at the Hall, surely he can’t object to her inhabiting the dower house?”

  “You would think so, but she chose not to do so. The marquess left them one of his smaller estates—he has a great number scattered across the country—in Hampshire. They reside there, living on the funds that the marquess set aside for them, and are seldom invited to the Hall.”

  Leah’s mind whirled. It seemed that the current marquess had not treated his father’s second family honourably. There might well be something in that to interest Mr. Morris. Whatever unpleasantness had occurred, Lady Denby’s children were still his blood relations and ought to be acknowledged as such.

  “Do you still correspond with Lady Denby, aunt?”

  “Oh yes, I hear from her regularly. She’s anxious to know how things go on in the village. She lived here for so long that she grew very attached to the district.”

  “That’s understandable,” Beth said. “I don’t think it kind of the new marquess not to invite his step-mama for a prolonged visit. But still, we don’t know what caused them to become estranged and so are not in a position to judge.”

  “You may not be, young lady,” Aunt Augusta said severely, “but I know my friend is incapable of base behaviour and does not deserve to be treated so shoddily.”

  “I’m sure Beth didn’t mean to imply—”

  “The marquess is also the Duke of Dawlish’s heir,” Aunt Augusta informed them. “The Duke is his uncle. He never married and lives a reclusive life in his castle in Devon.”

  “He will be quite a force to be reckoned with one day, if he isn’t already,” Leah said.

  “Well, I must be getting along.” Aunt Augusta stood, as did the girls. “There is so much to be done before tomorrow. Be sure to be ready at six. Your uncle and I will collect you at that hour, and it wouldn’t do to keep the marquess waiting.”

  “We’ll be ready,” Leah assured her.

  “What did you make of all that?” Beth asked, as soon as their aunt left
them.

  “I think that our aunt thoroughly disapproves of the new marquess because she’s biased in favour of her friend.”

  “That’s hardly to be wondered at, if her friend hasn’t been treated well.”

  “We only know one side of the story, Beth.”

  “True, and I can’t believe that Flick would be unkind to her half siblings, especially as she is so keen for a sister of her own.”

  “Aunt Augusta’s attitude puzzles me.” Leah nibbled thoughtfully at her forefinger.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, if she was such an intimate friend of Lady Denby’s, it seems rather disloyal to accept an invitation to her despised stepson’s house.” Leah shrugged. “Still, she clearly won’t let such considerations sway her. Being able to tell her friends that she’s been invited to dine at the Hall will outweigh any crisis of conscience she might temporarily experience.”

  “Yes.” Beth nodded. “If she’s considered her friend’s feeling at all, she’s probably told herself that she’ll be in a position to report back on the sorry state of affairs at the Hall.”

  “There has to be more to this family rift than we know.” Leah mangled her lower lip between her teeth as she thought it through. “I wish I could find out what it is.”

  “Leah, promise me that you won’t try to.”

  “Why would I do such a thing?” Leah asked, feigning incomprehension.

  “You don’t deceive me with that innocent expression.” Beth shook a finger at her. “I saw how you reacted to Aunt Augusta’s narration. You think it will be of interest to Mr. Morris.”

  “Well, I—”

  “Don’t! Don’t do it.” Beth became quite agitated. “I know you think we need the funds but are you really prepared to betray our new friend’s trust simply to place food on the table?”

  Leah sighed. “You’re right, of course.”

  Beth was right. It would be the height of bad manners to abuse Felicity’s hospitality, but Leah was forced by circumstances to be practical. She must harden her heart and do whatever it took to keep their heads above water.

  Chapter Five

  Leah examined her reflection and barely recognized herself. The gown slithered over her curves, fitting her like a second skin, shimmering in varying shades of silver as the light caught it at different angles. Long resigned to being the plain sister, she felt a rush of excitement as she twirled in front of the mirror, understanding now why Beth took so much pleasure from her wardrobe. She felt feminine to her fingertips and even her punctilious aunt wouldn’t be able to find fault with her.

  “You’re a miracle worker,” she told her sister, kissing the top of her head.

  “The corset makes all the difference. I did tell you that it would.”

  “Yes, for once I don’t mind the discomfort.” Leah screwed up her nose. “Besides, my aunt would probably disown me if I appeared at the Hall not wearing one.”

  Beth giggled. “Now that’s good enough reason not to wear one.”

  “What about you, darling? Let me look at you.”

  Beth wore a muslin gown in a shade of blue that exactly matched her eyes. Leah had always liked that particular dress but was unsure how it fitted her sister so well when she’d lost so much weight. Presumably she had adjusted it, so why couldn’t she have adjusted the silver?

  “You look lovely.” Leah embraced her carefully to avoid crushing their gowns. “Although I rather feel as if I’ve been manipulated.”

  Beth smiled radiantly. “I haven’t even started on you yet, sister dear. Now sit down and let me attend to your hair.”

  “Oh, there’s nothing to be done with that,” Leah said with a rueful smile. “You know very well that it has a mind of its own. I shall simply pin it up and hope for the best.”

  “Not tonight you won’t.”

  Beth looked so determined, so much like her old self, that Leah didn’t have the heart to argue.

  “Oh very well, do your worst.”

  Beth picked up a brush and set to work. Half an hour later Leah could hardly believe the results. Her unruly corkscrew curls were piled neatly on top of her head, not a single strand daring to make a bid for freedom. Beth had somehow threaded silver beads through the resulting arrangement, leaving a few curls to obediently frame her face.

  “What in the world have you done to me?” Leah asked, cautiously shaking her head.

  Beth grinned, looking incredibly pleased with herself. “Just proving a point.”

  “Your talent is wasted on me, sweetheart.”

  “That’s where we disagree.” Beth linked her arm through her sister’s as they descended the stairs. “You have much to recommend you physically, as well as a quick mind and a sharp wit. I look forward to seeing you display all of those qualities in exalted company this evening.”

  “Well, for you I’ll willingly try.”

  They were ready when Sir Percy’s carriage arrived at the door. Aunt Augusta looked them over critically but apparently found nothing in their appearance to take exception to.

  “Well, girls, I suppose you’ll do,” she said, actually smiling as though she approved. “I’m glad to see that you’ve make an effort. Just remember your manners, and don’t put yourself forward, Leah.”

  “I wouldn’t think of it.”

  “It’s so pleasant to be going to the Hall again and we have your friendship with Lady Felicity to thank for that.”

  Another smile slipping past her aunt’s usually disapproving lips. She was nervous, Leah was surprised to notice. She had never before seen her show any signs of self-doubt but was pleased to have earned her approval for once and returned her smile. Content to allow her uncle’s bright chatter and Beth’s dutiful responses to fill the time it took them to travel the five miles to Forster Hall, Leah’s mind wandered. She wondered what would await them there and, specifically, if anything she might discover would interest Mr. Morris’s readers.

  Beth’s plea for restraint filled her ears and she experienced a moment’s guilt. But no more than that. She didn’t like what she intended to do. Exploiting Felicity’s friendship for profit was not an honourable course but Leah had little choice in the matter. The limited funds their parents had left them were fast dwindling. Had Beth not taken ill it might have been different, but her doctor’s bills had almost been their ruin. Leah would do whatever was necessary to keep them until such time as Beth could make a good marriage and save them both from the workhouse.

  The carriage was obliged to halt at the gates to the Hall, just as Mrs. Wilkinson’s had done two days previously. Leah thought that was rather strange.

  “The marquess does so enjoy his privacy,” Aunt Augusta muttered, looking inordinately pleased when they were given leave to drive on.

  Leah noticed several armed men patrolling the perimeter of the estate as their carriage traversed the long driveway. She didn’t think she was supposed to see them. None of the others appeared to, but Leah was deliberately looking, wondering about this excessive level of security.

  The carriage rattled to a halt and Leah returned her attention to the more immediate necessity of alighting from the conveyance gracefully. Two liveried footmen dashed forward to let the steps down. Uncle Percy descended first, holding out a hand to Aunt Augusta. Her haughty air obliged Leah to stifle a giggle. The girls trailed behind their aunt and uncle into the sumptuous entrance vestibule where they handed their outer garments to yet another waiting footman.

  “Let the entertainment begin,” Leah muttered, clutching Beth’s arm and ascending the stairs to the reception rooms on the first floor.

  * * *

  The prospect of spending the evening in the same room of Lady Wantage didn’t put Hal in the best of tempers. He disliked his stepmother’s ambitious friend almost as much as he disliked Lady Denby herself. However, if Lady Wantage was the price he had to pay for Miss Elliott’s company—a prospect that filled him with strong feelings of a very different nature—then so be it. Following
their interlude in the tavern, the little minx and her motley protector had, according to Rob’s man, gone straight back to Sir Percy’s gatehouse without speaking to anyone or behaving in any way suspiciously. No one other than Rob’s man had followed them, or taken any particular interest in Miss Elliott.

  Hal tied his neckcloth with precision, securing the resulting arrangement with a sapphire pin. He straightened the hem of his waistcoat and slipped his arms into the coat Spencer held out for him. Dressed in black, with only the intricate pattern on his blue waistcoat to relieve the severity of his attire, his appearance perfectly matched his mood.

  Forbidding.

  “Right, Spencer. I suppose that will do.” Hal tightened the ribbon that held his hair back and grimaced at his reflection. “Be extra vigilant tonight.”

  “We have additional men patrolling the grounds and more still keeping the ship under watch. You don’t need to worry, m’lord. Everyone knows what to do.”

  “Make sure that they do. If word of this entertainment has spread abroad, our enemies might well decide to strike, thinking my attention to be diverted.”

  “I rather thought that was the point.”

  Hal nodded grimly. “Perhaps.”

  It was certainly the impression that he’d given his brothers and trusted staff. Hal disliked entertaining. He had more important business to attend to the majority of the time and so this deviation would not have gone unnoticed by his foes.

  “Interrupt if you need me,” he said to Spencer, walking through the door his man held open for him.

  Hal made his way to the family sitting room and found Flick already there—a vision in pink silk—along with his brothers.

  “Right, minx,” he said to his sister. “I suppose we had better show ourselves.”

  “Stop pretending that you’re not excited at the prospect of entertaining,” Flick said, taking his proffered arm. “You know very well that you’re looking forward to it.”

  Hal elevated a brow. “How do you make that out?”

  “Quite easily.” She shrugged. “Why else would you have asked me to arrange it?”

  “I don’t recall making any such request.”