A Marquess and a Secret

by Joyce Alec

  “Of course,” Lord Bertram boomed, attempting to capture everyone’s attention once more. “Nothing would make me happier than her safe return.”

  “She will be quite ruined, of course,” another gentleman remarked. Mutterings of agreement rippled around the table, and Agnes felt her anger begin to rise.

  “None of that matters to me or to Lord Thompson,” Lord Bertram continued, his words silencing the crowd. “All we want is her to return home safely so that she can wed Lord Thompson, just as was arranged.”

  “You mean, the man will still have her?”

  “Of course,” came the reply. “The man is quite in love with her, I am sure. Since there is no possibility of elopement, we have concluded that she is simply hiding somewhere and that there will be no stain on her reputation.”

  Agnes’s eyes flashed. Lord Thompson was still waiting to marry Esther? She couldn’t believe it. “What has the man got over you, Francis?” she asked, loudly, glaring at Lord Bertram.

  Complete and utter silence filled the room.

  “I beg your pardon, Lady Heber?”

  “I said,” she replied, her voice deadly. “What has Lord Thompson got over you that you would so willingly sell your daughter to him?”

  Bernard stared at his mother, aghast. Getting to his feet, he tried to mumble an excuse for her behavior, but she cut him off with a swipe of her hand. Shamefaced, he sat back down, dreading what his mother was going to say next.

  “The man has nothing on me,” Lord Bertram blustered, his face reddening. “He loves my daughter; that is all.”

  “Codswallop,” Agnes replied, stoutly, inciting a gasp from the other guests. “You know that is not true, and so do I. You must have lost a great deal of money to him, Francis, and it should be you who deals with the consequence of that, not your daughter.”

  “You speak too freely, Lady Heber,” Lord Bertram seethed, rising to his feet.

  She shook her head, the anger continuing to pulse through her veins. “You are a selfish, low-down, greedy man who has pushed his daughter to the very brink, so the only choice she has is to run away! You would have coerced her to marry Lord Thompson, despite him being the same in years as you, and she would have obeyed eventually because, despite everything, she still loves you. For what it is worth, Francis, I am glad the girl had enough sense to leave you, despite what it might do to her reputation. I can only hope she can stay well enough hidden so that you will never find her!”

  Her voice rising to a roar, Agnes thumped the table with her fist before dramatically leaving the room. The entire room stayed silent only for a moment before it rose to a hubbub of frantic conversations and excited whispers. Only Amos stayed silent, a thoughtful expression on his face as he gazed at the door that Agnes closed as she left.

  8

  Ignoring the surprise of the servants, Agnes made her way down the back stairs, rage practically billowing from her as she walked. “The audacity of the man,” she seethed under her breath. Her love for her goddaughter filled her with a protective rage, and the news that Lord Thompson still expected a betrothal to Esther was quite shocking.

  Esther was busy overseeing the last of the dishes, thankful that soon her responsibilities of the evening would be over. A lot of tidying up had to be done and many dishes needed washing, but that was not within the housekeeper's duties. Leaving the kitchen, she almost walked straight into Lady Heber.

  “Godmother!” Esther gasped, grasping Agnes’s hands. “How glad I am to see you!”

  Agnes squeezed Esther’s hands, but whispered to her, “Not here, my dear. Any of the servants may spot us at any moment, and I am quite sure they are already wondering why I am downstairs. Have you a room?”

  Esther nodded. "This way." She and Agnes walked quickly into Esther's private parlor, set apart for both her personal and business use. Closing the door, she and Agnes embraced.

  “I have been so worried about you,” Agnes exclaimed.

  “I am quite well, Godmother, but I am so glad to see you,” Esther began, hugging her tightly. “I have been so anxious this evening. My father being among the guests has rattled my nerves. I keep expecting him to march in here and demand my return home.”

  Agnes let out a small laugh. “My dear, you have nothing to fear, I assure you. Your father will certainly not be making his way downstairs any time soon. I assured His Grace that I would come and speak to you myself, so that you would not have to make an appearance in front of the other guests.”

  Moving to sit in a chair, Agnes settled back with a sigh, her soul happy as she saw her goddaughter was truly safe and well.

  “Some tea, Godmother?”

  “Please,” Agnes replied, her anger blowing away like the steam that rose from the teapot. “I am afraid I said some harsh words to your father.”

  “In front of the guests?” Esther exclaimed, turning wide eyes onto her godmother. “Surely, you didn’t!"

  Agnes smiled a little contritely. “I’m afraid so, Esther. You are well aware of my outspoken nature, and I could not let the things that loathsome man was saying pass without censure.” She glanced at Esther, her face a little remorseful. “I am sorry, my dear. I know you love your father still, but I must confess, I find his treatment of you utterly dreadful.”

  Esther shook her head, pouring the tea. “Is he very angry?”

  “He is,” Agnes replied, frankly. “But he insists that, even when you are found, you will marry Lord Thompson.”

  Esther’s face went white with shock, and she sat down heavily, barely managing to hold onto her steaming cup of tea. “What?” she breathed.

  Agnes set her mouth in a thin line. “I am sorry to tell you this, Esther, but the man is insistent, it seems.”

  With a shaking hand, Esther placed her cup of tea and saucer onto the small table to her left. She didn't know what to think, her whole body trembling at the thought.

  "It has taken so much for me to leave him behind, and it has been for naught?" she whispered, panic clawing at her throat. "No matter what I do, Lord Thompson is always going to be waiting for me."

  Agnes moved to sit next to her goddaughter, flinging a comforting arm around her shoulders. "It will not come to that, Esther. We will find a way out."

  Esther let out a harsh laugh. “There is no way out. The only thing I can do is hide until… until Lord Thompson dies!” She covered her hands with her face. “Who knows how long that will be?” Her voice was muffled as she took in great heaving breaths, forcing the tears back down.

  Agnes rubbed Esther’s back in small, comforting circles. For once in her life, Agnes did not know what to say. They had both thought that as soon as it became clear that Esther had run away, the stain on her reputation would be enough to send Lord Thompson far from her. Neither of them had ever considered the possibility that the man would still be chasing a betrothal to Esther.

  “Whatever shall I do?” Esther asked, dropping her hands down to her lap, the tears she had been holding back no longer at bay.

  "I don't know," Agnes confessed. "But we shall think of something. For the time being, you can remain here and continue doing a marvelous job of running the estate."

  Esther sniffed. "He seems to be a very good man. Is he pleased with me?"

  "Of course he is!" her godmother exclaimed, patting her hand. "You needn’t have any worries on that account." Getting to her feet, she smoothed her skirt and took a breath. "Well, I must be getting back. Although I shall not apologize to your father, I must ensure that I appear contrite over my harsh words."

  A glimmer of a smile appeared on Esther’s face as she stood up, embracing her godmother once more. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” she said, truly grateful. “I know we can find a way out of this.”

  “Of course we will,” Agnes replied, patting her back. Moving towards the door, she laughed as a sudden idea hit her. “Perhaps Bernard can be persuaded to marry you.”

  “I do not think she is quite his type,” a
voice said, as the door swung open to reveal the stern face of the Duke of Hawdon.

  9

  Your Grace!” Esther gasped, executing a clumsy curtsy, not sure where to look. Her heart seemed to stop completely in her chest before catching itself and beginning to tear out a frantic beat.

  Agnes collected herself almost at once. "Duke!" she cried, immediately feigning ignorance. "Whatever can you mean?"

  Amos said nothing, walking into the room and carefully shutting the door behind him. Without a word, he turned and faced the two ladies, seeing the carefully executed blank expression on the Lady Heber’s face and the milk-white face of his housekeeper.

  “Tell me the truth,” he began, quietly, his gaze fierce as he turned to Agnes. “This…” he gestured to Esther, “…is the Lord Bertram’s daughter?”

  Agnes did not know what to say, looking helplessly at Esther, who was staring at Amos with a tortured look. Closing her eyes briefly, she let out a long breath and nodded.

  Amos exploded.

  “How dare you do this to me, Lady Heber? I am harboring a runaway daughter whose father is currently a guest at my dinner table? Are you aware of what dangers you have put her in, and me as well? If she is discovered, what do you expect me to do? Marry her? Both of our reputations will be ruined!”

  “I—” Esther began, trying to tell him that she did not ever intend to force him into marriage, but Amos did not even look in her direction.

  “I cannot believe that you would deceive me in such a manner! Even with the difficulties the girl is in, why did you not simply speak to me? I am sure that, together, we could all have come up with a reasonable solution to help your goddaughter.” He flung a look at Esther, seeing her tremble, but his heart did not care. He was too angry to care about anything.

  Agnes drew herself up as tall as she could. “Duke,” she commanded, gazing at him severely. “That is quite enough.”

  “Don’t you dare—” Amos began, his voice growing louder, but Agnes was not to be interrupted.

  "I said, that is quite enough," she repeated, talking to him as though he were a small boy. "Now, you will return to your guests and spend the remainder of the evening being your usual charming and amiable self." She held up a hand to put a stop to the diatribe about to fall from his lips. "Esther, Bernard and I will meet you in the drawing room once all your guests have left, and we will talk all of this through then." She did not even wait for a response from him, opening the parlor door and waiting for him to walk out.

  Amos was inwardly seething, but, for some reason, found himself walking out of the parlor door and up the back stairs. Agnes was right; he was too angry to listen to anything either of them had to say. He hated the thought of returning to his guests and making idle conversation with them when he had an important situation to deal with, but he had no choice. Plastering a smile on his face, he returned to the drawing room where the rest of the gentlemen had only just returned to join the ladies, having enjoyed their port and cheroots.

  Lord Bertram, Esther’s father, had obviously been drinking in excess; his red cheeks and nose were an outward indication of too much liquor. He was speaking far too freely, his laugh loud and abrasive. Despite all that, Amos found his way over to the man, managing to pull him into their own private conversation.

  “I am so sorry to hear about your daughter,” Amos began, seeing the glint in Lord Bertram’s eye. “I can imagine it must be very distressing for you to not know her whereabouts.”

  “It is most distressing,” Lord Bertram agreed, picking up his newly refilled glass of port. “For myself and Lord Thompson, of course!”

  “Indeed,” Amos agreed, covering his disbelief with a sympathetic look. “Has it been a long-standing engagement?”

  Lord Bertram laughed. “My daughter has not even agreed to the match,” he chortled. “But I have no doubt she will find it a most amiable proposition once she receives a firm talking to.”

  “Oh?” Amos asked, raising his eyebrows. “She is a good daughter then?”

  “She is that,” Lord Bertram agreed, sloshing a little port onto his cravat. “Always does what she’s told in the end. Especially when I tell her that if she does not do what I ask, her poor papa could end up a pauper.”

  “Lord Bertram, you cannot be serious!” Amos exclaimed, feigning shock.

  Lord Bertram chuckled again. “Have no fear, Your Grace, that will not happen. The moment Lord Thompson marries my daughter, he is to give me a large sum for her. It will be enough to clear my debts and ensure I have a comfortable living for the remainder of my life.”

  “How fortunate,” Amos muttered, feeling a stab of sympathy for the girl. Amos was also embarrassed for Lord Bertram. Surely, he was only sharing his grievances because he had consumed too much alcohol. It was well known that Lord Bertram enjoyed gambling, and it seemed he had wasted much of his wealth at the tables.

  “He has had his eye on Esther for a long time,” Lord Bertram continued, a disgusting grin on his face. “Her disappearance just makes him more keen to wed her.”

  Amos could barely hide his disgust.

  "I take it you and Lord Thompson are friends?" he continued, attempting to smile. "He must be quite a gentleman if he has been deemed worthy of your daughter."

  Lord Bertram threw back the rest of his port, a little dribbling down the side of his mouth. “Your Grace, so long as the man has money, I care very little about who marries the girl. She is already on the shelf and had no prospects to speak of, so if she is taken off my hands, then the better I am for it. She will be someone else’s financial burden, instead of my own.” He laughed uproariously, as if he had made some wonderful joke, and Amos felt nausea ripple through his stomach. Leaving Lord Bertram to his port, Amos walked out of the dining room and back to his study, seeking a little peace and solitude. Whilst he knew he was being a terrible host, he did not care in the slightest. He needed the quiet. He needed to think.

  10

  Amos had no idea how long he had been sitting when Bernard came in. He had thought long and hard about the situation, and about Lord Bertram. The idea of a man the same age as Lord Bertram marring Mrs. Edwards—no, Lady Esther—made his skin crawl. He could not blame the girl for running away, but in doing so, she and Agnes had put him in a difficult position. Should anyone discover the secret that she was the daughter of Lord Bertram, then she would be assumed to be compromised, her reputation in tatters. The only way to scrape some of it back would be to marry the girl. He let out a sigh, staring into the flames.

  “Duke?” Bernard ventured, seeing him jump as Bernard’s voice startled him. “My apologies, but I couldn’t find you. The last of the guests are leaving.”

  “I’m sorry for leaving them with you,” Amos replied, gesturing his friend into the armchair opposite. “I had something weighing on my mind.”

  Bernard waved a hand. “It was no trouble. I told them all that you had taken ill. Lady Jane was very concerned.” He winked, but Amos could not find even a half smile to give to his remark. “Good grief!” Bernard continued, surprised to see his friend so stoic. “Whatever’s the matter?”

  Amos let out a long sigh, throwing back his whisky before answering. "It appears I have been harboring Lord Bertram's daughter."

  There was a beat of silence before Bernard shook his surprise enough to ask, “You mean my mother’s goddaughter? She’s been hiding here?” He looked around the room, as if he might spot her somewhere.

  “Here, in the house, right in front of my very nose,” Amos replied, his words growing in both volume and intensity. “Hiding here, under the guidance of your mother.”

  “My mother!” Bernard exclaimed, shock on his face. “Whatever has she done now?”

  Amos rubbed a hand across his eyes. “It seems that my new housekeeper is, in fact, Lady Esther Bertram.”

  Bernard said nothing, his mouth hanging open. The fact that he had not even recognized the housekeeper to be Esther was something of a shock, and the deceit of
his mother even more of a revelation. He knew his mother was both blunt and outspoken, but he had never imagined she would do such a thing. "I suppose Mother was trying to protect Lady Esther in her own way," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair.

  Amos let out a long breath. “I know that,” he said, quietly. “I am just a little shocked at the deception of it all.”

  “I need to talk to her,” Bernard said, getting to his feet and walking urgently to the door. “Do you know where she might be?”

  "She and Lady Esther are meeting us in the drawing room," Amos replied. "They should be there now since the guests have left."

  “What if he throws me out?” Esther whispered, her nerves jangling. “Where shall I go?” She took a breath, her face showing her tortured thoughts. “What if he tells my father?”

  “Hush now, Esther,” Agnes soothed, taking her hand to stop her from twisting it into her skirts. “You just let me do the talking. I can sort this all out.” Seeing the door open, both she and Esther got to their feet, waiting for both men to walk in.

  “Lady Esther,” Bernard said, bowing to her. “May I say how relieved I am that you are safe and well.” He turned to his mother with a look of both hurt and fury in his gaze. “Mother, I do not know what on earth you were thinking.”

  Lady Heber did him the courtesy of looking a little abashed but held her ground nonetheless. “I was thinking about Esther,” she cried, pointing to her. “Her mother is gone, and I am the only one who seems to be concerned about her welfare. Do you really think I’d allow the girl to wed to Lord Thompson?”

  There was a brief silence.