A Marquis to Marry

by Amelia Grey

  “Actually,” Morgan said, “I believe it was a long-dead woman writer named Aphra Behn who first wrote what I quoted, and I do believe it to be true.” Morgan chuckled. “But I think I prefer what Blake quoted.”

  Blake smiled at Morgan. “I do, too, and I’ll tell Lord Byron you said so the next time I see him. I think he is given credit for the quote about hatred and love, not that I know whether he was actually the first one to say it.”

  “Who was it who said, ‘There are two things a man will wait forever for: love and revenge’?” Morgan asked.

  “That’s enough,” Race growled. By the stunned looks on their faces, he’d spoken roughly, but he was ready to put an end to their madness. “I need help from you two ninnies, not mindless quotes that mean nothing and that I care nothing about.”

  “Well, why didn’t you just say you wanted help?” Blake argued. “In that case, I will talk to Susannah. Since I’m a duke and she a duchess, we should be able to have a respectful conversation. I’ll let her know in no uncertain terms that the pearls will be returned immediately, or she will face dire consequences.”

  The last thing Race wanted was either of his cousins talking to Susannah. No one could ever be as hard on her as he had been.

  “That’s not necessary, Blake.”

  “I think it’s a good idea,” Morgan argued.

  “If you must know, I’ve already talked to her.”

  “What did she say?”

  “What do you expect she said, Morgan? She denies having any knowledge of the theft, and I believe her. For now, I know it is best for me to leave it to Bickerman’s man to look for the pearls, as much as I wanted to ransack their houses myself.”

  Blake drummed his fingers on the table once again. “Why are you so certain that Susannah is not an accomplice?”

  Morgan’s eyebrows lifted. “He’s protecting her.”

  “Call it what you like,” Race said in a warning voice.

  As if sensing the conversation between Morgan and Race was heating, Blake changed the subject by saying, “What else was stolen?”

  “Oddly, nothing of great importance: a small amount of money, some legal documents, but nothing I can’t live without.”

  “All right, so what’s next?”

  “Bickerman will watch Spyglass, Winston, and Smith, like a hawk with his eye on his prey, until we find out which one is the thief,” Race said.

  Both his cousins nodded.

  “There’s one other thing. Keep this to yourselves. I don’t want anyone else to know, except, of course, Gibby, who I see is making his way toward us.”

  “You do plan to bring charges once the thief is caught, don’t you?” Morgan asked.

  “Of course,” Race said without hesitation.

  “What are you three guardian fools doing huddled together here in the corner, looking as if you are plotting to kidnap Prinny?”

  While Blake rose and pulled over a chair for Gibby, Race motioned for the server to bring over another glass.

  Gibby made fists and threw two or three light punches on Morgan’s upper arm. “Did that hurt? Did you see how fast I boxed?”

  Morgan grinned at him. “Yes. You’re fast and strong for an old man.”

  “Good.” Gibby smiled, and all four of them laughed.

  “What are you doing here?” Blake asked.

  “I came to find Race,” Gibby said, sitting in the chair Blake handed him. “I’ve looked everywhere for him today, and some places, like this one, twice.”

  “What do you have going on, Gib?”

  “I’m sure it’s not a crisis, but I wanted to tell Race that the duchess came to see me today.”

  Race went rigid, and his two cousins leaned intently toward Gibby. The old man’s eyes darted from one to the other.

  “Susannah came to see you?” Race asked.

  “What did she want?” Blake added.

  “What did she say?” Morgan asked.

  Race sighed heavily. “Would you two please let me ask the questions, since this conversation concerns me and not you?”

  Blake and Morgan leaned back in their chairs and nodded to Race with conciliatory expressions on their faces.

  “Susannah?” Gibby said. “Is that her name?”

  “Yes, but never mind that, Gib,” Race asked impatiently. “What did she want?”

  “She asked me if I would introduce her to Winston and Smith, the men who tried to buy the pearls from you.”

  “What the devil for?” Morgan asked.

  “I have no idea. That’s why I came to find him,” Gibby said, pointing his thumb toward Race.

  “I told her where Smith’s shop was located and agreed to introduce her to Winston.”

  Race remained quiet, but his mind started working. Susannah had already been to Smith’s shop to talk to him. Did she think she would go to Spyglass’s and Winston’s homes and question them? Or worse, search their houses for the pearls? Fear for Susannah’s safety tightened inside him. She was treading in dangerous waters, and it was his fault for suspecting her in the first place.

  Gibby continued, “She told me she had seen you this morning but wouldn’t tell me why. She said you would tell me. By the way she was talking, I knew something must have happened between you two but she wouldn’t say what.”

  Race’s cousins looked at each other and then at Race.

  Gibby rested his hands on his knees. “What are you three trying to keep from me?”

  “Should I tell him?” Morgan asked.

  “No,” Race said. “Our grandmother’s pearls were stolen from me last night.”

  Gib looked from one cousin to the other and then back to Race.

  “You told me the pearls were safe,” Gibby said with no accusation in his voice.

  “They were,” Morgan said. “They aren’t now.”

  “Do you have any idea who took them?” Gibby asked.

  “Three men and one lady readily come to mind,” Blake said ruefully.

  Gibby’s eyes widened, and he spread his swollen hands on the table. “Are you telling me you think Her Grace had something to do with stealing the pearls?”

  “No,” Race said firmly.

  “All we really know is that she’s one of the four who wanted them,” Blake added.

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” Gib argued. “Who wouldn’t want them? Probably everyone wants them.”

  Morgan added, “She wanted them badly enough to interrupt Race’s card party a couple of weeks ago, not to mention his slumber last night.”

  “Morgan, you are about to hit the floor,” Race muttered.

  Morgan held up his hands in surrender and tilted his chair away from Race.

  “At this point, anyone could have stolen them,” Blake offered.

  “What are you going to do?” Gibby asked.

  Race took another sip from his wine and briefly told Gibby about his meeting with Bickerman and what the runners would be doing to find the pearls.

  “So the only thing to do now is to wait and see what turns up when the houses are searched.”

  Gibby leaned back heavily in his chair and sighed. “Why would Susannah want to be in contact with Spyglass, Winston, or Smith if she was in on the theft?”

  “Only one thing I can think of,” Morgan said. “She wants Race to think she’s innocent. She knew you would tell him of her visit.”

  Gibby rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. “No, that doesn’t feel right.”

  Blake picked up the wine bottle and added another splash to the three glasses on the table. “Race, don’t let this get to you or change any of the plans you already have in place. There is the possibility that Susannah is doing this to make it look like she’s not involved. Just let Bickerman handle this.”

  Race didn’t want Susannah to even think about contacting those men. He knew he was not going to be any good at waiting. Already he wanted to see Susannah again. He wanted to tell her once again to stay away from those men. The thought of
her being alone with any of them made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

  “Just in case you want to talk to her about any of this, she’ll be at the Kendricksons’ party tomorrow night,” Gibby offered.

  “In that case, I think we’ll all be there,” Blake said.

  “Race, while you are deciding what to do about the pearls, Susannah, and the men,” Morgan said, “I suggest that, since we are all together, we talk to Gibby about this fight with Prattle.”

  Race was in no mood to talk about Prattle, but he didn’t say anything, because he was happy to get them off the subject of Susannah.

  “What do you want to say to him?”

  “It’s no secret that we don’t want you going through with this fight,” Morgan said. “Race was supposed to talk to you about the possibility of paying Prattle off. It could very well be that money is what he is after in the first place.”

  “If he wants money,” Gibby said, “he better bet against himself and put a wager on me, because that’s the only way he’s going to get any blunt out of this fight.”

  “I heard just today that Prattle made rumblings that he may not go through with the fight,” Blake said, “and now he has men offering him money to go through with it, win or lose. I don’t think he’s going to back out.”

  “Look at your hands, Gib,” Morgan said. “You’re too old to fight.”

  Gibby looked at his enlarged hands and said to them, “I have people coming up to me on the street just to wish me luck. Why would I want to give that up?”

  “Because you are not a young man anymore,” Morgan offered.

  “Fiddlesticks. Lord Chesterfield always said, ‘You are as young as you feel.’”

  “Gib.” Blake laughed. “You know Chesterfield never said that.”

  “He could have said it,” Gibby argued. “You don’t know he didn’t.”

  “Yes, we do. Remember, our grandmother drilled his best quotes into us. That’s not pompous enough for him to have said.”

  The server put a glass of milk down in front of Gibby. Morgan and Blake looked at Gibby.

  “What is this about?” Blake asked.

  “Don’t ask,” Race said.

  “It all has to do with getting my body strong for the fight.”

  Gib stood up and threw three or four punches into the air as he shuffled his feet back and forth.

  “How’s that? Am I getting quicker?” he asked, throwing more jabs into the air.

  “No,” Morgan said with a grin. “You look old and tired.”

  And with that, Gibby threw a hard punch that landed on Morgan’s chin and knocked him out of his chair onto the floor.

  Race and Blake shook their heads and laughed as Morgan got up, rubbing his chin.

  “You bloody bruiser, you really hit me,” Morgan said as his eyes widened.

  “Of course I did. Sorry about that.” Gibby grinned. “I guess I forgot for a moment that I was old and tired.”

  Morgan straightened his coat and sat back down in his chair. “If you were twenty years younger, old man, you’d be lying flat on the floor right now.”

  Gibby made fists once again and struck a fighting pose. “Prove it to me. I can take it. Come on, I’m ready. It’s all in courage and skill, not age. Danger Jim said I need a practice round. Which of you guardian fools is up for it?”

  They all shook their heads and slid their chairs away from the table as they mumbled, “Not me.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  Gibby smiled, picked up his glass of milk, and drained it.

  Fifteen

  My Dearest Grandson Alexander,

  What do you think of these words from Lord Chesterfield?

  “There is a certain dignity of manners absolutely necessary to make even the most valuable character either respected or respectable. A joker is near akin to a buffoon, and neither of them is the least related to wit. There are many avenues to every man, and when you cannot get at him through the great one, try the serpentine ones, and you will arrive at last.”

  Your loving Grandmother,

  Lady Elder

  THE NIGHT WAS UNSEASONABLY WARM AND THE velvet night sky was filled with twinkling stars as Susannah and Mrs. Princeton walked toward the front door of Lord Kendrickson’s home. Susannah was eager for the night to begin. She had many things she wanted to accomplish.

  Now that she had, for the time being, at least, marked Mr. Smith off her list of possible suspects, Susannah’s main objective at the party was to meet Mr. Harold Winston and gain an opinion of him, and to see Captain Spyglass again. She wanted to talk to them both, and in some context, mention pearls. She wanted to watch each man closely and see if either man acted nervous, wary, guilty, or in any other way suspect.

  She knew that sometimes a person could find out what they wanted to know just by observing how someone reacted to whatever was said. As far as she knew, neither man knew that she wanted the necklace, too, or that it was now missing—unless, of course, one of them had it.

  One of the other things she intended to do tonight was to stay away from the Marquis of Raceworth, should he be in attendance at the party. She had received another maddening note from him earlier in the day that simply said:

  You owe me a dance.

  Race

  How dare he think she owed him anything after the way he had treated her? He thought her capable of conspiring with someone to steal from him. Still, her heartbeat quickened, and her breath shortened, just thinking about him. Her head told her to crumple the note and throw it in the fire, but her heart wouldn’t let her. She had quickly folded it and tucked it in the secret part of her jewelry chest with the other two notes from him.

  Their night together in her bed still filled her thoughts during the day and haunted her dreams at night. But he had treated her abominably, and she was determined to have nothing to do with him, no matter how heavy it made her heart.

  After Susannah and Mrs. Princeton greeted their host and hostess for the evening, they left their outerwear with the servants and followed the sound of the music and loud chatter coming from a room nearby.

  Susannah wore a wide-strapped, high-waisted forest green under-dress with a heart-shaped neckline cut lower than most of her modest gowns. Over the green sheath, she wore a scooped-neck, long-sleeved, ivory tulle, gossamer-thin gown that flowed like a gentle breeze every time she moved. Around her neck, threaded on a piece of ivory satin ribbon, lay an emerald large enough to cover the hollow of her throat. She wore no earrings or any other jewelry. The emerald spoke for itself.

  “Your Grace.” Lord Snellingly bowed. “I’ve been watching the door, hoping you might be here tonight.” He stepped back and admired her from head to toe with a dreamy gaze. “You look absolutely exquisite tonight.”

  “Thank you, and good evening, Lord Snellingly.”

  “After I met you the other night, I was inspired to write a poem for you.” He sniffed and pulled a piece of paper from his coat pocket. “I’d be honored if you would allow me to read it to you.”

  Susannah glanced over at Mrs. Princeton as if to say, “you did this to me,” before smiling at the man. “Perhaps another time would be better, my lord. I just arrived, and there’s someone I must see right away. Please excuse me.” Susannah quickly turned away, not wanting to give the man time to persist.

  “Would you like me to stay by your side tonight?” Mrs. Princeton asked as they hurried away.

  “Of course not. Don’t be silly. I’m quite capable of fending off unwanted advances from men. I would very much like for you to find someone to converse with and enjoy yourself tonight,” Susannah answered. “A party is supposed to be a delightful occasion, even for companions.”

  Mrs. Princeton gave her an impertinent smile. “I shall enjoy myself as long as I know that you are accomplishing what it is you’ve come here to do. That is my only objective for the evening.”

  “You can get entirely too accommodating at times, Mrs. Princeton,” Susann
ah said with a teasing smile on her lips. “Please get yourself something to drink, to eat, or whatever you wish, and do not worry about me. I will find you when I am ready to leave.”

  Mrs. Princeton nodded and turned away. Susannah looked around the dance floor at the far end of the room and froze. She felt as if her heart had jumped up in her throat. Race was dancing with a stunning young lady in a beautiful, ivory-colored gown that made her look like an angel. Her shiny golden-blonde hair sparkled with every twirl under Race’s arm. The young lady stared into his eyes as if he had mesmerized her.

  And no wonder!

  The marquis was heart-meltingly handsome as he swept the lady across the dance floor with the ease of a gentle breeze floating past her cheek. His black evening coat was cut perfectly to fit across his straight shoulders and broad chest. Susannah didn’t know how such a tall, powerful-looking man could be so light on his feet. He looked to be a superb dancer, but that was no surprise. He was, after all, Lady Elder’s grandson.

  Was that jealousy she felt? Surely not. It was tension and anger and envy that he was dancing with someone else when his note had said, “You owe me a dance.”

  As Susannah watched him, unbidden memories flashed through her mind and warmed her. His hand gliding down her naked hip, his lips on her bare breasts, their bodies joined in passion too furious to be controlled. She remembered he had told her she didn’t look old, but how could she not when compared to the young lady he was dancing with?

  Susannah continued to stare at him and remember their night together, until, suddenly, she realized that Race was looking back at her. His intense gaze scrutinized her face. Her heart fluttered maddeningly in her chest as their eyes met and held. Her stomach quickened deliciously, her skin tingled, and her body knew that, in spite of the gulf of distrust between them, and as much as she hated to admit to herself, they still wanted each other.

  She stood perfectly still and watched his gaze skim slowly down her face, over her breasts, which were barely concealed by her gown, before he lifted his gaze to her eyes once more as he followed the steps of the dance. A tingle of awareness settled low in her abdomen.