The Reluctant Marquess_The Duke's Daughters_Prequel

by Rose Pearson

  “Oh, but do you not think that matrimony itself can bring a great deal of happiness?” Molly asked, before she could stop herself. “I have been told that, with a good marriage, there can come a great deal of joy.”

  With only the dim light of dusk making its way into the carriage, Molly struggled to see what Lord Seaworth thought of her question. There was nothing but silence for a good few minutes and, although there was a faint smile on Lord Wilson’s face, he remained entirely silent.

  “I suppose, Miss Newton, I have never considered marriage to be a happy state,” Lord Seaworth said, eventually, his gaze drifting away from her and out of the window instead. “It is something that must be done, that must be endured to have the heir produced for the next in line.”

  “That is rather sad,” Molly replied, softly.

  “Sad?” he repeated, turning his attention back to her. “Why would you say that, Miss Newton?”

  Feeling as though this was the first time she had ever truly got to see anything below the surface of Lord Seaworth’s demeanor, Molly thought for a moment, choosing her words carefully. “I suppose it is because that means you intend to only see your wife in such a way that narrows her purpose down to one single act – to bring a child into this world.” She smiled softly, her heart filling with compassion for him, despite the confusion that dwelt there. “There is a great deal more to a woman than that, Lord Seaworth. If you were to choose your bride carefully and considerately, I am sure that affection would blossom between you, just as it has done between Lord Wilson and his betrothed. I am sure he does not look at her and consider her useful only to continue the family line.”

  “Very well said,” Lord Wilson murmured, his smile now more thoughtful than anything else. “You are quite right to say so, Miss Newton. My wife will bring more than just a child into my life. You have a great deal of wisdom, I think. My brother could, mayhap, learn a lot from you.”

  Molly shot a glance towards Lord Seaworth but saw that he was, by this time, now looking out of the window. She could not tell what he thought of her, nor if she had upset him. It pained her to hear him speak of matrimony with such distaste, as though it was a requirement he had to fulfill, instead of something that could be considered a happy and bright future. She hoped that he would not grow angry with her for her determination to find a husband who would show her some degree of affection, although she would not ask for love. A gentleman proposing to her simply because of her dowry, or because of her father’s title would never do, and Molly was determined not to allow such a man into her affections.

  “Here we are,” Mrs. Miller said, softly, as the carriage turned into a drive. “My goodness, this looks to be spectacular!”

  Molly, forgetting about what had been said before, looked out of the window and caught her breath. There were flaming torches leading all the way up the drive, their reds and golds catching her eye as they passed. The house itself was large, with a good many footmen standing on either side of the steps.

  “We will greet our hosts first, of course,” Lord Seaworth murmured, slowly uncurling himself as the carriage began to slow. “They will be just inside and then, after that, we go to the ballroom which is just down a short flight of stairs. I’m afraid, Miss Newton, that everyone will notice you on my arm but do not let that startle you. It is to be expected, you understand.”

  “I quite understand,” Molly replied, stoutly. “I am not afraid of that, my lord.”

  He smiled at her unexpectedly, as the door was opened. “Very good, Miss Newton. I do hope you will not be overwhelmed by the crowd. The first few balls of the Season are always remarkably busy.”

  “I am quite sure I will manage,” Molly said, crisply, as the footman held out his hand to her, so she might descend from the carriage.

  Unfortunately for Molly, the ball was as overwhelming as Lord Seaworth had suggested. She managed to greet her hosts properly, at least, although she could not be altogether sure that the words that came from her mouth were, in fact, comprehensible. She was awestruck by the sheer beauty of the place, of the music that made its way towards her the moment she stepped inside, of the noise that came from below stairs as she made her way towards it.

  “Come here for a moment, Miss Newton,” Lord Seaworth murmured, leading her a little away from the staircase as Lord Wilson and Mrs. Miller followed. “Look down there. Let it be your first taste of London society and give yourself a few moments to drink it all in.”

  Looking down from the balcony, Molly felt her breath catch as she took in the sheer size of the crowd beneath her. There were so many beautiful gowns that she could hardly take them all in, seeing the way that a few faces turned towards whomever it was descending the staircase into the ballroom.

  “The moment we enter the ballroom, you will be practically surrounded by some of my acquaintances, all eager to know who you are,” Lord Seaworth said in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. “This is difficult for me to say, Miss Newton, but it is important that you hear me.”

  Dragging her gaze away from the London ton, Molly looked directly into Lord Seaworth’s face, and to her astonishment, felt her breath hitch. He was looking at her with such a steady gaze that she felt quite disconcerted, seeing something like honesty shining in his eyes. Her heart was beating a trifle more quickly than before, her lips pressing together as she waited for him to speak.

  He is so very handsome.

  The thought came unbidden, sending a searing heat straight through her. It crept from her toes all the way up her spine and into her cheeks, making her blush furiously despite the desperation within her not to do such a thing.

  “None of my acquaintances are good men,” Lord Seaworth said, heavily. “I will not go into my reasons as to why this might be, but you are not to entertain them in any way, Miss Newton. They will not be permitted to dance with you more than once and any attempt to get you to agree to them calling on you must be pushed aside almost at once.”

  “I – I understand,” Molly whispered, suddenly acutely aware of just how close Lord Seaworth was to her. She forgot about Lord Wilson and Mrs. Miller standing just a few feet away from them, captured entirely by Lord Seaworth’s gaze.

  He nodded, his lips twisting as he frowned. “I am happy to call them friends, but they cannot be anything to you, Miss Newton. I will be firm, I can assure you, but they must not see any kind of weakness in you. If they do so, I can guarantee that they will try their best to take advantage of it.”

  Swallowing a sudden lump in her throat, Molly nodded and tried to smile, realizing that Lord Seaworth was doing his best to forewarn her. “Thank you, Lord Seaworth. I will be careful, I assure you.”

  “And no waltzing,” he said, firmly, although there was a slight glint in his eye as he spoke. “That will come later. This is to be a whole new world to you, Miss Newton. I will do my best to guide you, and as your chaperone, that means you are not to accept a waltz from any gentleman, no matter how hard he presses you.”

  “Of course,” Molly replied, trying not to let her mind wander over why Lord Seaworth would have such friends as these. If he was close to gentlemen who could not be trusted, who tried their best to take advantage of young ladies, then what did that say about his own character?

  Her confusion doubled as he turned away, offering her his arm as he made his way back towards the staircase. She had to hurry after him, her excitement pushing away all of her confusion as she reached the top of the staircase.

  Lord Seaworth patted her hand, making sure that Lord Wilson and Mrs. Miller were just behind them.

  “With grace now, Miss Newton,” he murmured, his smile fixed as his eyes flitted over her face. “And remember, no matter what happens, you must always smile.”

  Descending the staircase, Molly felt a slight sheen of sweat come over her brow as she became aware of the many faces turned towards her. Lord Seaworth had been right, it did feel as though she were entering some strange new world where she would be, for a short time,
the center of everyone’s attention. Lord Seaworth felt to her to be a strong anchor beside her, and Molly grew relieved that he had offered her his arm. It helped her to remain tall and steadfast, her smiling expression fixed as they finally came into the ballroom.

  “Ah, Lord Seaworth!”

  A gentleman made their way towards them at once, beaming at Molly whilst greeting Lord Seaworth.

  “Lord Munson,” Lord Seaworth murmured, inclining his head whilst letting go of Molly’s hand. “Good evening.”

  “Do introduce me to this beautiful young lady you have on your arm,” Lord Munson replied, not so much as glancing at Lord Wilson or Mrs. Miller. “I shall have to get a dance with her just as soon as I am able.”

  Molly curtsied gracefully, her eyes lifted to Lord Seaworth’s face and seeing the slight frown there. So, this was one of the gentlemen she would give one dance to and nothing more. Sighing inwardly, she greeted Lord Munson and smiled up at him, just as she had been instructed.

  This was going to be a trifle more difficult than she had anticipated.

  Chapter Nine

  Hugh awoke the following morning with a great deal less pain than he was used to. Most mornings in London, he woke with a throbbing headache and a desperate thirst whereas, this morning, there was not even a single trace of pain shooting through his head.

  Everything was quite clear. There was no confusion, no blurred vision, no growl of agony escaping from his lips.

  There was just the calmness of the quiet morning, the beauty of the sunshine piercing through the crack in the drapes and sending gold trails throughout his bedchamber.

  Hugh was not quite sure if he liked this particular feeling, finding himself a little at a loss as to what to do next. Usually he spent a few hours in bed, half in and half out of sleep as he waited for his headache to pass, sipping water and coffee at alternate moments. Whereas, now, he was more than able to simply rise from his bed, dress and make his way downstairs.

  Finding himself alone in the dining room, Hugh filled himself a plate and sat down at the table, feeling rather hungry after what had been an eventful evening. Miss Newton had made a wonderful first impression, and as he had predicted, a great many young men had come forward, eager to make her acquaintance. There had been the usual rogues, and certainly none of his friends would be allowed to call upon her, but there had been one or two that Hugh had thought might make a rather good prospect for the girl.

  With that knowledge had come a sudden confusion, recalling just how he had watched her as she had danced in another gentleman’s arms. He had found something like envy spiking through him but had pushed the feeling aside at once, telling himself that he was only envious of her freedom to enjoy herself, whereas he had to remain standing at the sidelines, completely focused on ensuring Miss Newton had an enjoyable evening.

  He had not needed to watch her with such ferocity, of course, but for whatever reason, something like protectiveness had rushed through him as she’d descended the staircase on his arm. That had been a strange feeling in itself, coupled with the jealousy he’d felt on seeing her give her full attention to another gentleman.

  “The lack of liquor must be getting to me,” he muttered aloud, pouring himself some coffee and adding a splash of cream. Sipping it, he set it down and tried to think of something – anything – other than Miss Newton, but his mind refused to give her up. She had been a vision last evening, the beauty of her as she had descended the staircase taking his breath away. He had been like a fish out of water, unable to breathe, unable to think of anything to say until his brother had elbowed him, none too gently, in the ribs.

  The worst thing he could do would find himself attracted to the lady. That was foolishness in itself! Yes, she was beautiful, but that had merely been the cut of the gown and all the additional adornments through her hair and the like. He had not seen her in such a light before, so it stood to reason that he had found her so beguiling in that moment.

  There would be no such attraction in the cold light of day. Of that, he assured himself.

  And yet….

  The words she had spoken to him last evening in the carriage, where she had spoken so openly about love, affection, companionship, and matrimony, he had not been easily able to put them aside. In fact, he had found himself going to bed with those words still ringing in his ears and had awoken to the knowledge that they still remained fixed there.

  Shrugging to himself, Hugh tried once again to set those thoughts to the side. If Miss Newton truly sought such things as love in the man she took as her husband, then he had no qualms in that regard. His brother apparently felt much the same as Miss Newton. He himself could not understand it, thinking to himself that Miss Newton might be making her task of finding a husband all the more difficult in hoping for such things. Clinging to the idea that matrimony was simply a requirement for a man of his standing, Hugh sighed to himself, worrying that in searching for a man who held an affection for her, Miss Newton might remain in his life – and his home – for perhaps two Seasons or more. After all, had his father not stated that she would be in London each year with either Hugh or himself until such a happy state had been reached?

  His thoughts still in a muddle, Hugh tried to distract himself by picking up the society newspapers that were sitting on the table, but just as he did so, the handle of the door turned.

  Expecting his brother, Hugh set the papers down and reached for the coffee, thinking he would need more than one cup to see him through any conversation with Rodger. However, as the door opened and just he was in the middle of pouring himself another cup, there came Miss Newton, with no companion by her side. She was dressed in a plain day dress with only the smallest of adornments, her hair tied back in a simple chignon and yet there was something pleasant about her.

  “Good morning, Lord Seaworth,” she murmured, her cheeks a light pink as she stood awkwardly by the door. “I’m afraid Mrs. Miller is feeling a trifle unwell and so I insisted she remain in bed. Might I join you at breakfast?”

  Hugh nodded, his lips pressed together as she shut the door and came to sit opposite him. There were footmen and maids coming and going so he had no need to worry about any kind of impropriety, although it would have been all the better if Mrs. Miller had been able to attend.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, sitting down carefully and reaching for the teapot. “I confess myself quite famished.”

  Gesturing to the footman, Hugh asked him to collect a plate for Miss Newton, seeing her look up and smile as the footman did as he was asked. A slight nervousness began to race through him as he regarded her, the awareness of her gentle beauty piercing his mind anew. All determination to believe that he had only found her beautiful last evening because of her gown and whatnot flew from his mind, the truth settling firmly into his heart.

  Miss Newton was a very lovely creature, and he was going to have to be careful. There could be no allowing himself to linger on her, to allow his heart to begin to open towards her. That would take him down a path he did not want to go and could, if he allowed it, ruin Miss Newton entirely. No, he would continue to keep himself as far from her as he could, treating her coldly if he had to in order to stop himself from feeling.

  “Did you enjoy yourself last evening, Lord Seaworth?” she asked, softly, buttering a piece of toast. “I do hope you were not too bored. Lord Wilson told me that you are often the life of the party, thoroughly enjoying dancing and the like.” She tilted her head, a considering look in her eyes. “Although, last evening I do not recall you dancing at all.”

  “No, I did not,” Hugh replied, firmly. “I thought it best not to do so in order to ensure that your first ball went well.”

  Her eyes brightened. “That is very kind of you, Lord Seaworth. I had a wonderful evening.” Her expression grew distant, as though she were still lost in the magic of the ball, and despite his resolve to remain as distant as he could, Hugh’s expression cracked into a small smile.

  “I am glad
to hear it,” he said, quietly. “Your dance card was full, was it not?”

  “It was,” she replied, pulling it from her pocket and waving it in her fingers. “I did not have any gentleman dance with me more than once, Lord Seaworth, just as you suggested.”

  He nodded, glad that she had listened to him.

  “I thought you might be able to look at the card for me, Lord Seaworth?” she continued, looking a little abashed. “I confess that I was so overcome with all the new introductions that I have become quite mixed up about each of the gentlemen. Indeed, I am not sure who I should be refusing and who I should be encouraging!” Flushing deeply, she closed her eyes, screwing up her face. “Not that I mean I should be encouraging anyone indelicately, you understand. I just meant that –”

  Unable to prevent himself from laughing, Hugh let out a chuckle and shook his head at her embarrassment, getting up and reaching across the table to pluck the dance card from her fingers. “Put yourself at ease, Miss Newton. I know exactly what you mean.”

  Her eyes opened just as his fingers brushed hers, taking the dance card from her. For a moment, Hugh froze in place, sparks shooting up his arm from where their fingers had met. His eyes widened slightly as he looked back at her, seeing a somewhat astonished look on her face. Had she felt it too?

  Sitting back down in his seat with a thump, Hugh cleared his throat gruffly, his eyes fixed on the card in his hand instead of the lady across the table from him. There was a sudden tension in the room, the atmosphere almost sparking as he tried his best to fix his attention solely on the names written there instead of the feelings stirring in his heart. Feelings he was entirely unaccustomed to.

  “Well?” she asked, hesitantly, as though unwilling to break the silence between them. “Who is it that I should not have danced with?”