The Missing Marquess of Althorn
The Lost Lords
Book Three
Chasity Bowlin
Copyright © 2018 by Chasity Bowlin
Kindle Edition
Published by Dragonblade Publishing, an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Dedication
As always, to my wonderful husband for always being supportive and for telling me every day that I am loved and appreciated.
I’d also like to take a moment to thank Violetta Rand for reaching out to me about the wonderful opportunity with Dragonblade Publishing and I’d like thank Kathryn Le Veque at Dragonblade Publishing for taking a chance on me and Scott Moreland for tolerating my irregular spacing, inconsistent capitalization and spelling that sometimes looks like it belongs on a poorly-written ransom note.
Thank you all for helping me to produce books that I am incredibly proud of and that have renewed my faith in the publishing world.
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Isolated Hearts
Sentinel
The Lost Lords Series by Chasity Bowlin
The Lost Lord of Castle Black
The Vanishing of Lord Vale
The Missing Marquess of Althorn
By Elizabeth Ellen Carter
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Revenge of the Corsairs, Heart of the Corsairs Series
Dark Heart
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Endearing
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The Wicked Husband
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Books from Dragonblade Publishing
About the Book
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Excerpt from The Vanishing of Lord Vale
Also by Chasity Bowlin
Author Bio
It was an arranged marriage neither wanted… and a love neither one expected.
Betrothed to Marcus Balfour, the Marquess of Althorn, since infancy, the entirety of Miss Jane Barrett’s life has been planned for her by others. Through an overheard argument, Jane discovers at a very tender age that her betrothed is opposed to the match. The knowledge wounds her deeply and sews the first seeds of rebellion in her. Rather than marry her, the marquess joins the army but disappears in one of the war’s bloodiest battles. Jane is left in a state of limbo—betrothed to a man who never wanted her and who is most likely dead, but still not free to pursue love elsewhere.
Marcus’ objections to the marriage were less about the bride than the immorally young age of the bride at which their greedy and meddling fathers wished to force the match. While fighting for king and country, Marcus is confronted with the knowledge that there is a traitor in their midst, a man far closer to him than he might wish to admit. But he is captured, imprisoned, tortured, and left to rot for years until he can make his way back home to take up his rightful place as the Elsingham heir… and as a husband to Jane Barrett.
The years that have passed have eradicated any reservations about marriage to his betrothed, at least on his part. No man looking at her would ever mistake her for a child. More surprising is the attraction that he feels for her instantaneously and his determination to make her his, whatever the cost. It appears, however, that his bride to be will require some convincing.
As Marcus sets out to woo her, to prove that there is the possibility for something far more than a simple contract between them, danger lurks at every turn. The enemies who robbed him of years of his life by handing him over to the French is close at hand… and has their eye on Jane and her fortune, as well.
Prologue
London, 1806
Marcus Balfour, Marquess of Althorn and heir to the Duke of Elsingham, stared at his father in growing horror. His betrothal had always been a sore subject between them. The duke was from a different generation, a time when arranged marriages for the sake of furthering finances or social gain were the norm. He had never been able to understand Marcus’ reticence when it came to marrying the young woman he’d been affianced to while still too young to understand the meaning of the word marriage, much less the reasons for which it should be undertaken. Marcus hardly considered himself to be a romantic, yet the notion of marrying solely for the benefit of the family coffers left him cold and uneasy. That was bad enough, but what his father was asking now was beyond even that.
“I refuse,” Marcus stated firmly. His tone was emphatic. For once, when it came to the subject of Miss Jane Barrett, he intended to stand up for himself entirely. In this instance, it wasn’t only for himself but for her as well. At one and twenty, he was still far too young to be married. She was just shy of fo
urteen if he remembered correctly, and still looked very much like a child. The last time he’d seen her, only the summer before, she’d been playing with dolls. The very idea of marrying a girl so young turned his stomach. While there were men who would not balk at such a thing and who were, in fact, more attracted to younger girls and the younger the better, he was not one of them.
“You cannot refuse. Mr. Barrett and I have discussed it at length in letters! We both feel it has been delayed too long already!”
“How can it be delayed too long when the girl is not even out of the school room? She is too young to be married. For that matter, I am too young to be married!” Marcus demanded of his father. “You are wrong. Both of you are wrong. This is archaic and I will not be a part of it!”
His father waved his hand dismissively. “Girls are fine to be married so young! They don’t have the same sort of needs that men do that require living a bit before settling into marriage! The younger you marry, the more likely you are to have many healthy children to carry on the family line.”
“Sons,” Marcus corrected. “You could not care less whether or not we have healthy children… only healthy sons to carry on the name. Your morals may permit it, but mine will not! I will not force myself on a child for the sake of conception and the continuation of our apparently corrupt line!”
The older man ran his hands through his hair in frustration and spoke from between clenched teeth, his anger evident in every gesture. “I’m not happy about it either, really. This girl has no rank and only the most limited of connections socially. She’s barely considered gentry! But needs must, my son! Financially, we had no other choice but to agree to the match. It is to our benefit to keep Barrett happy!”
“You had no other choice, Father!” Marcus had rarely openly defied his father. He’d certainly never raised his voice at the man. Yet they were shouting, the both of them. “I have choices and I will not be forced to wed a child!”
The duke sighed heavily and settled into his chair. “It’s Barrett who is pushing for the marriage. He wants the girl out of his home so that he can wed again. Apparently, his bride-to-be is less than pleased at the notion of having a nearly grown stepdaughter in the house. She feels that the servants will be divided in their loyalty to her if they are still pandering—her words, mind you! I have it in a direct quote from Barrett himself—to her predecessor. If you don’t wish to consummate the marriage until she is older, fine. Wed her, set her up in a house in the country and continue sewing your wild oats in the city. Discreetly, of course,” the duke suggested. “There’s no reason marriage should interfere with your living your life just as you please. In truth, we’d have more readily available funds and you could, if you chose, live it up quite right!”
Marcus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had no particular affection for Jane Barrett. In truth, they hardly knew one another beyond exchanging greetings when both families were gathered in the same location, but that didn’t mean he lacked a certain degree of sympathy for her. A more unpleasant, cold-hearted and tight-fisted man than William Barrett he’d never encountered. It was evident in the way he treated the girl that he harbored no great affection for his daughter. As for their impending marriage, she was locked into the same contract he was by their managing parents, and by virtue of being female, had even fewer options available to her. “Lock her away to rusticate in the country? Marry her and abandon her immediately? Is no one else capable of seeing just how grossly unfair this is to Miss Barrett?”
The duke made a pshawing sound. “Since when did you care so much for her feelings? Normally, you can’t even be bothered with her!”
“Because she’s a child!” Marcus protested. “I know nothing about children, much less one that I find myself betrothed to! I will not do it. I will not be some monster who weds a child bride and then locks her away somewhere while I rut my way through society.”
“This isn’t some ridiculous novel by that Radcliffe woman!” the duke snapped. “This is about our lands, Marcus, our tenants and all those who depend upon us for their livelihoods. Can you imagine the shame if we were to begin selling off parcels of it? All of society would know that we are in dun territory!”
“Where we’ve landed precisely because you and your own father chose to marry unwisely and then philander your way through the ton!” Marcus retorted hotly. It was a well-known fact that his grandfather had married a penniless woman for love. That love had faded quickly in the face of his infidelity and gambling, but the pennilessness had remained a constant thorn in his grandparents’ tumultuous marriage. She’d left him eventually, and her children as well, and fled to Spain with her lover. As far as scandals went, even fifty years on, it was still whispered about. His own father was no better, having married a woman with a small annuity and then living in excess of it as if he’d filled the family coffers to overflowing. With his mother gone, then his stepmother having sought an early grave via laudanum, ostensibly by accident, and now a new stepmother on the horizon, one with apparently very outlandish taste, their financial ruin was a forgone conclusion.
“I tell you, we’ve no choice!” his father snapped. “Barrett is threatening to have the contract dissolved if we do not come up to snuff, Marcus. He feels the girl is of a marriageable age and as he is her father, we’ve no right to gainsay him. Do I need to remind you what the financial situation of this family was before we made the agreement with him? If we have to pay back what has already been given much less forfeit the windfall that is due us upon the marriage and again with the birth of an heir, then we’ll all be in the Fleet together!”
Marcus rose to his feet. “I will not force some terrified child to the altar. I’ve consented to wed her, committed myself to it, and I shall do so when she is of an appropriate age. Not before!”
“You will do as you are told!” the old man shouted, a vein protruding in his forehead as his face purpled with rage.
Marcus’ own anger had reached the boiling point, as well. The unfairness of it all, of having his life mapped out for him by a man who couldn’t have cared less for him, to essentially be bartered off—a title with a pulse for a pot of money—sickened him. That was bad enough, but to expect him to force a girl still in the schoolroom to marry was beyond villainy.
“This entire debacle is repulsive! I will not marry her. The thought of it is positively repugnant and I will not be a part of it!” Marcus’ voice had risen with indignation and fury at the injustice of at all. He turned on his heel and strode toward the door of the old man’s study, ready to march out of the house in a storm of righteousness. But when he opened the study door and stepped into the hall, he found himself staring into the round, youthful face of his betrothed. She appeared stricken—pale and wide-eyed with trembling lips.
One awful thought circled in his brain as he looked at her. What had she heard?
“Miss Barrett—” Marcus stopped short. There was little he could say to mitigate the damage already wrought.
“Lord Althorn,” she said quietly, “My apologies for arriving earlier than anticipated. The roads were far better than anyone could have imagined. How terribly inconvenient it must be for you.”
It was obvious from her expression and from the chilled tone of her voice that she’d heard what he’d said, or at least some small and very damning portion of it. Any attempt to rectify the matter would likely only make it worse. What could he say to her after all? “Forgive me, but I must go. I cannot stay.”
“To do so would no doubt be utterly repugnant, would it not?” Her reply was uttered softly, her voice presenting as far more womanly than the rest of her. With her round face and pudgy figure, she looked exactly as a young girl should, except for her eyes. They were not only wise beyond her years, but also haunted. The pale blue held a wealth of sadness and quiet resolve. Whatever her life was at home, it was not easy. Her father was a difficult man in the best of circumstances and Marcus doubted very seriously that he offered Miss Barrett anything
resembling affection. “I release you of the only duties I have the authority to bid you freedom from. Any social obligation to tend to me as your guest, Althorn, may be considered discharged. You should carry on as if I weren’t even here.”
Marcus flinched. She was wise, insightful and had a pointed wit that struck with surgical precision. “What you heard—it is not what you think, Miss Barrett. Trust me when I say that my refusal to meet my father’s wishes today is in both our best interests.”
She dropped her gaze to the floor, but her tone when she spoke did not match the subservience of her pose. It was cool and sharp. “I have never labored under the assumption, Lord Althorn, that what I wanted or what was in my best interests was pertinent to the situation. It is a hallmark of your elevated station by virtue or your sex and title that you are permitted to question authority and challenge the status quo. I cannot.”
Those were the most words she’d ever spoken to him, he realized. He’d had to insult her, albeit unintentionally, and strike her to her very soul with humiliation before she’d ever been bothered to acknowledge him.
Marcus stepped forward until they were standing only a few feet apart. “I am not attempting to renege on the arrangement between our families. But I will not wed you when you are still a child. I would never forgive myself for it.”
She looked up at him then and her gaze pierced him, seeming to see right through to the heart of him. It was as if she could see every flaw inside him. It was not the first time she had looked at him thusly, and if they were ever to wed as their families had long since agreed, it would likely not be the last. “I understand that my appearance is not pleasing to you. I understand why you think me a child, Lord Althorn. Yet, you are the one standing in your father’s study, stamping your feet and demanding to have your own way in things. I agree that the existing arrangement demands we marry when I am still too young in years to be a bride. I would also posit that you will still be too lacking in maturity at that time to be a husband.”
The Missing Marquess of Althorn (The Lost Lords Book 3) Page 1
