A Marquess and a Secret

by Joyce Alec

  Sarah felt as though all the breath left her body at once. She would be the Duchess of Huntington, the wife of Oliver and mother to both Elizabeth and Samuel. All in one day!

  “What do the children think?” she asked, breathlessly.

  Oliver chuckled.

  “Of course you would think of the children at a time like this,” he laughed. “Have no fear, my love, I spoke to them both, and they are vastly in agreement with me. I believe Elizabeth has already decided she is to be your flower girl.”

  Sarah smiled in relief. The children wanted her to be a part of their lives, and that was all the reassurance she needed.

  “Very well, Oliver,” she replied quietly, sliding her arms around his neck. “I should be very pleased to marry you tomorrow.”

  “It cannot come soon enough,” he murmured against her lips, kissing her with all the love that he felt.

  The following morning dawned bright and early. Looking in the mirror, Sarah was relieved to find that her face, whilst not perfect, was certainly much improved from the day before. Meg assured her that, with a little thought, her hair could be artfully arranged to hide the worst of the remaining marks. The morning passed in a blur of preparations as she was bathed, dressed and prepared for her wedding day.

  The moment had come. Elizabeth had walked down the aisle, throwing flower petals in all directions, a whirlwind of happiness. Samuel was standing stoically by his father’s side, although she saw a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. The two witnesses were ready, smiling broadly at her as she made her way towards Oliver.

  “You look beautiful, my dear,” he whispered, taking her hand and tucking it under his arm. Sarah couldn’t speak, her happiness threatening tears once more as she thanked God for this man. She listened carefully to the vicar, speaking her words of love and respect and making her promises before Oliver and God. He slid a ring on to her finger, and it was done. They were man and wife. The Duke and Duchess of Huntington. She could hardly believe it. Together they walked out of the church to a flurry of well-wishers, who had come to see the new bride.

  The happy couple had very little time to celebrate, with the Christmas ball quickly approaching. By now, news had spread of the duke’s sudden marriage and an air of expectation lay around the estate.

  Sarah was nervous. The house was enchanting, decorated with wreathes and rich greenery, giving the house a beautifully festive scent. She was dressed in one of the finest gowns she had ever seen, her feet encased in beautifully soft slippers. Her hair was in an ornate design, and pearl earrings hung gracefully from her ears. She barely recognized herself. As she descended the stairs, Oliver felt his breath hitch. She was so beautiful. He took her hand and kissed it, wishing there were not gloves in-between his lips and her skin.

  “You are majestic tonight, my dear. I shall be the envy of every man in the room.”

  Sarah’s smile wavered just a little as she raised her chin and allowed her husband to lead her into the ballroom to prepare for the receiving line.

  Sarah’s smile was fixed in place as she finished meeting the last of her guests. She had smiled and nodded for what seemed like hours and was grateful for Oliver’s presence beside her. She knew she was the object of people’s curiosity and did her best to ignore the many stares and whispers that came from behind gloved hands.

  “Well done, my love,” Oliver murmured, his hand around her waist. “The worst is over. Let us enjoy the rest of the evening. Shall we?” He presented his arm to her, and she took it without hesitation, allowing him to lead her onto the floor. As the beginnings of a waltz began to play, Sarah realized they were the only couple on the floor.

  “Oliver,” she whispered. “What if I make a mistake?”

  He smiled at her, his voice for her ears only.

  “It is just you and me, my love, just you and me. We are dancing as we were before. Do you remember?”

  She nodded yes, still aware of every eye on her.

  “Do not think of them, Sarah, look only at me. I shall count to three if it will help you to keep in time?” He was laughing now as the music began, teasing her out of her anxiety. Taking her hand more firmly in his, Oliver smiled at her once more, wishing he could kiss her worry away.

  Sarah smiled at him in return, as though she knew his thoughts. Focusing on the love in his eyes, she forgot all about the people who watched them, her nerves dissipating.

  “Oliver,” Sarah whispered. “I love you so.”

  “I love you too, my dear,” he replied, pulling her close as they began to dance.

  THE END

  Part III

  A Duke to the Rescue

  By Caroline Johnson

  1

  Good morning, Your Grace.”

  The Duke of Hawdon opened his eyes blearily, a little befuddled. It seemed far too early in the morning for anyone to be rousing him, and he certainly would not have brought a woman to bed. Yet, a female voice was speaking to him, rousing him from his slumber.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I said, good morning, Your Grace.”

  "Good gracious!" Amos suddenly realized a woman was standing before him, a mischievous look on her face.

  “What’s the matter, Your Grace?”

  Amos rubbed his eyes, suddenly aware of his bare chest. He focused on the woman's face as a sudden realization swamped him. Narrowing his eyes, he identified her as the new housekeeper. He rolled his eyes.

  “Woman, I have had enough. I have warned you before; I do not dally with my staff. Take yourself away from my room—and from my house. Your employment is terminated.”

  Shock flooded the lady’s face as she stuttered, tugging the sheet a little more tightly around her. “Your Grace,” she spluttered. “By your many looks and flirtations, I assumed you cared for me.”

  "Those were of your own imaginings," Amos replied curtly, wishing that he'd been a little more self-aware.

  His new housekeeper was, indeed, a pretty lady—if that could be said of the hired help. He enjoyed flirting with her, but she had taken it far too seriously. “I will, however, write you a reference,” he finished, taking a little of the sting from his blow. He did it only because this was partly his fault; he should never have looked twice at the woman.

  "Thank you, Your Grace," she said, quietly, her voice full of unshed tears.

  He did not look at her again, waiting for the door to click shut before he got to his feet. Running a hand through his hair, he cursed himself again for his idiocy. He had been far too lax with his flirtations, knowing full well that his reputation preceded him. He liked to smile and flirt with women, even with the women in his employment. He enjoyed their blushes and sparkling smiles. However, the ton would be vastly surprised if they had known that Amos had never taken a mistress, or even enjoyed a liaison with an actress, as so many of his counterparts did.

  He enjoyed kisses from a woman, of course, but he had never let it go too far. His handsome face, along with the occasional rumor about his antics, kept the ladies sighing over him. Amos would be lying if he said he did not appreciate the attention.

  Of course, Amos had to marry. Being a duke, it was expected of him to produce an heir and to produce one fairly soon. His mother lived in the dowager house back in the country. Whilst she was a loving mother in all respects, she was growing restless over his refusal to marry. Amos was waiting for something. He wanted love; he wanted romance and passion — not simply a ‘good match’ as his mother and father once had. They had never loved each other, his mother had once confessed. They had gotten on well, and had been dear friends, but that was all. Amos refused to choose that for himself. His self-imposed celibacy was for good cause. His wife would be the one he loved and the only one he took to bed. Until then, let the ton talk.

  Sighing, Amos dressed quickly and made his way to the dining room. He would break his fast and then set about finding himself a new housekeeper. Perhaps, his friend, Bernard, Earl Heber, would know someone.

  "Good
morning, Heber," he said, completely unsurprised at his friend's early appearance. Having stayed up too late the previous evening, Amos insisted that Bernard spend the night in his townhouse. The man could not have ridden home and was practically falling asleep by the time they'd made it to the front door. Amos was pleased to see a hot cup of coffee waiting for him, although Bernard looked a little worse for wear.

  “Sleep well?”

  Bernard groaned. “Remind me never to touch a drop of port again.”

  Amos laughed, filling his plate before he sat down at the table. “I am sure I will see you with a glass of port in your hand by the end of the week,” he replied, still laughing at Bernard’s miserable face. “Although I hope, by now, you have gotten over your misery.”

  “I shall never get over it,” Bernard said, stoically. “Lady Heston betrothed? It has devastated my heart.”

  Hiding his grin by bringing his coffee cup to his lips, Amos refrained from rolling his eyes. Bernard was in love every week, it seemed, with a different young woman every time. He flitted from lady to lady, extolling her virtues every time he and Amos were together. "I am sure you will get over her in time," he replied. "Perhaps there may be a new beauty to catch your eye at Lady Haye's ball tomorrow?"

  Bernard sat up a little straighter, a sudden spark in his eyes. “Oh yes, I had quite forgotten! Mayhap I shall meet some new, eligible young lady who will take the pain from my heart.”

  “Indeed,” Amos replied dryly. “In the meantime, perhaps you can help me find a new housekeeper.”

  “Another one?” Bernard asked, astonished. “What happened this time?”

  "The same as the last one," Amos sighed, slumping in his chair. "There are times when these rumors about me are more of a hindrance than a help."

  "The problem is that you keep hiring women who have either a pretty face or bountiful curves. And you insist on practicing your flirtation on them! Simply hire a housekeeper with a plain face and keep your flirtations for the eligible ladies of the ton.”

  Amos sighed. “I suppose you are right. I shall have to be more careful in my selection.”

  Nodding, Bernard toasted Amos with his coffee cup.

  “To finding a plain, unassuming and completely ordinary housekeeper.”

  “Cheers,” Amos replied.

  2

  Godmother, you know I wouldn’t come to you for help unless it was of the greatest urgency.”

  Esther waited with bated breath for what Agnes would have to say. Her situation was desperate, and she had no other way out.

  Agnes let out a long breath. “Esther, I don’t know what to tell you. I cannot hide you here; this is one of the first places he would look.”

  Esther dropped her head, feeling the tears coming. “I do not know what else to do, Godmother. Father has me trapped and he knows it.”

  “If only your poor mama was still alive,” Agnes replied heavily.

  “I know,” Esther whispered, a tear dripping down her cheek. “I miss her so.”

  Esther's mother died five years ago, leaving the then sixteen-year-old as mistress of the home. Esther had taken it in stride, taking comfort from her older, married sister who had been expecting her first child at that time. Unfortunately, her father had not taken it so well, keeping to his study and eventually becoming something of a recluse, only going out in the evenings to gamble. Esther fared badly under his harsh ways. As the years passed, she was allowed less and less into society. No balls, no parties, just some visits with friends on occasion. She was grateful her father allowed her out to see her godmother, Lady Heber.

  “Your father is insisting you marry Lord Thompson?” Agnes asked, quietly.

  Esther groaned. “Godmother, he is almost in his dotage! He is corpulent and, from what I have heard, he has quite a temper.” Her face went a shade whiter. “I cannot contemplate life with him. I simply cannot!”

  “But your father says that you must,” Agnes stated.

  Esther nodded, feeling sick at the thought. “He demanded I do so. I asked him to give me time to find my own suitor, but he has refused. He deems himself the best judge of character, apparently.” She put her head in her hands, wishing she could think of a way out. “If I cannot leave my father, he will force me to go through with this marriage, Godmother! Whether it be with threats, intimidation, or guilt, I know my father will get what he wants in the end.”

  Trying not to think of her kind, loving mama, Esther remembered how her father once was. He had loved her mother dearly; she was sure of it. They had laughed together, and she never heard a cross word from either of them. Her sister, Josephine, had met and married Stephen before their mother had died, and Esther had never seen her parents so happy. They had looked forward to the impending birth of their first grandchild with great anticipation, but a sudden illness had taken their mother from them only a month before the child’s birth. Now, their father seemed to care very little for the young boy, even though it was his own flesh and blood.

  Esther knew that her sister was pained over the loss of their father’s good character, but at least she had a supportive husband. Josephine and her family moved away from London, living near the border to Scotland on her husband’s estate, and Esther rarely saw them. Not that she could blame them, of course. She was glad she still had her godmother and did not feel completely alone.

  "Mother?" Bernard blustered in, completely unaware that his mother had a guest. "Oh, I do apologize." He bowed to the lady, hardly noticing her puffy face and red eyes.

  “Bernard, you remember Lady Esther Bertram, my goddaughter?”

  “Of course,” Bernard replied, kicking himself for his lack of clarity and blaming it on the copious amount of alcohol he drank the night before. Its effects had still not quite worn off. “It has been some time since we have had the pleasure of your company, has it not?” he asked, his eyes on the lady.

  “Indeed,” Esther nodded. “I have been caught up with my work at home, I confess, and have not visited my godmother as often as I should.”

  “Well, I am sure she is glad of your company now,” Bernard smiled, directing his gaze to his mother. “Mother, I have just returned from the Duke’s townhouse. It appears he is in great need of a housekeeper, and I did say I would ask for your recommendations.”

  “Alas,” Agnes replied. “I do not know of any suitable...” She trailed off, her eyes alighting on Esther.

  “Mother?”

  “What I mean to say is I do have one perfect lady in mind who would be an excellent housekeeper.”

  “Really? Would you be so kind as to send her to the Duke’s townhouse at your earliest convenience?”

  “Certainly,” Agnes replied, a brilliant smile on her face. “He will accept her without question, I hope, given my recommendation?”

  “I am sure he will,” Bernard snorted. “The man is desperate for a replacement, given that he had to send the housekeeper away this morning!”

  “This morning?” Esther gasped. “Whatever did she do?”

  Bernard felt his face flush. “Nothing that I can share with genteel young ladies such as yourself, my dear. Now, if you will excuse me, I shall write to Amos directly.”

  “Tell him that I shall bring the woman to his house tomorrow afternoon,” Agnes called after him. “I want to ensure he accepts her without question.”

  “Very good, Mother,” Bernard replied, shutting the door firmly behind him.

  3

  As soon as he left, Agnes turned to her with shining eyes. “Don’t you see, Esther? This is your way out.”

  “What is?” Esther asked, confused.

  “The housekeeper. You shall become the new housekeeper!”

  "Me?" Esther gasped, getting to her feet. "Godmother, how could you consider such a thing? I am a lady, not the hired help!"

  Agnes took on a more serious tone. "Do you want to escape from Lord Thompson, or don't you? Well, here is the only way you can escape him and hide from your father for a while.”
<
br />   Esther began to pace over the plush carpet, thinking hard. The very thought terrified her, but no more than marrying Lord Thompson did.

  “I don’t know how to be a housekeeper, Godmother!”

  Agnes exclaimed. "I can’t imagine it’s that hard, dear. The Duke of Hawdon is just lovely. It’s the perfect opportunity for your predicament."

  “The Duke of Hawdon?” Esther gasped. “Now I am convinced that you have lost your senses!”

  "He will not notice you, my dear!" Agnes cried, sitting up straighter. "Such a man does not take notice of his servants. He will expect you to run his household to perfection, as you are quite capable of doing. That will be it. You will barely see him, and, since he has never met you within society, there is no concern over him recognizing you."

  Esther could hardly think straight. It would mean crossing the upstairs-downstairs divide, and not in her favor. She would have a housekeeper’s quarters, which would be slightly more comfortable and certainly more private than the other servants’ quarters. It would mean taking meals with the servants, being under a duke’s authority, and she could easily be removed from her position if she made a mistake. The whole idea seemed foolish. So why was she even considering saying yes?

  “I shall need an entirely new wardrobe,” she said, flopping back down to the chair. “I do not have any gowns suitable for a housekeeper.”

  Agnes’s eyes gleamed. “That is of no concern, my dear. I shall a few dresses prepared for you. Also, you shall have to spend some time learning about how to behave,” she said, gently.

  “Wait!” Esther said, a thought suddenly coming to her. “What about your son, Lord Heber?”

  “What about him?”