Only a Marquess Will Do: To Marry a Rogue, Book 4

by Gill, Tamara

  And, once she had his trust, and he viewed her as a close friend, as close as he viewed her brother, she would be able to ask him about his author life, should he be the man she hoped him to be.

  "I'm more than happy to stay here at Rosedale, Mama. The house and grounds are beautiful. This afternoon Lord Melvin has agreed to accompany me on a ride about the estate."

  "Hmm, has he, my dear." Her mama’s lips pursed into another one of her I told you so looks before picking up her knitting once again. "Remember to take a groom with you."

  Victoria stood, folding up her sketchbook and walking to the door. "I need to change for luncheon," she said, ignoring her mother's reminder of a chaperone once again. "I shall see you downstairs presently." She left the room, shaking her head and stepped directly into the path of Lord Melvin. She careened into him, her breasts pressing up hard against this chest, sending an odd sensation directly to her stomach.

  His arms wrapped around her when she would have fallen. "I beg your pardon, Lady Victoria."

  She steadied herself, ignoring the feel of his hands on her back, one on her hip. Or the fact she liked the feel of his hands on her. She shook her head, stepping to the side and out of his hold. Lord Melvin was her friend, possibly her favorite author in all of England. He was not marriageable material. No gentleman was when it came to her.

  "It is I who should apologize. I was not looking where I was going."

  "Are you going somewhere?" he asked her, his gaze dipping to her lips.

  Unable to stop herself, she licked them and spied the muscles in his jaw clench and unclench.

  Oh dear. Was her mama right? Did Lord Melvin like her more than just a friend? Did he harbor feelings for her? She hoped he did not. As much as she liked him, she wasn't looking for a husband. The idea revolted her after Paul, even if her sisters seemed so incandescently happy all of the time. She had not been so lucky in love as they had been.

  "I'm off to change for lunch. Are we still on for our ride this afternoon?" she asked, hoping that it was so. She had not been on a horse for several days, and it was always refreshing riding about pleasant lands such as Lord Melvin owned.

  "Of course, if you still wish to."

  She nodded, excited at the prospect of being free for an hour or two. "I do." He stood back, seemingly unable to think of anything else to say. Victoria smiled and stepped around him, heading toward her room. He was so very unsure of himself all the time. They would need to work on that. Why he was so she could not fathom. He had friends. She knew that because Josh had mentioned it in years past. Not that he did much with them from all accounts. He was a man with everything at his feet, and yet to Victoria, he seemed lonely. She did not like that truth. It was time he came out of the shell he had cocooned himself within and live. And she was determined to make it so.

  Chapter 10

  They met at the stables where Albert had saddled a bay gelding, a good sixteen hands, and a steady horse, just as Victoria had asked for during lunch.

  He liked the fact that she could ride, was competent and brave, no simpering miss. That she had requested when her mama was busy ordering a cup of tea by a maid that she did not wish to ride side-saddle, but astride, even more so.

  Albert swallowed a curse, having thought himself prepared to see her dressed so. He was not. He shut his mouth with a snap, but could not avert his eyes as he should. The feminine figure on display, the long lean legs made a part of his brain think of the sexual positions book he’d been studying. He had never known a lady, a daughter of a duke to be so bold. She was marvelous.

  He bowed, biting back his grin of appreciation. "My lady. Your mighty steed awaits you."

  She sauntered past him, and he turned to view her as she went by. What was a man to do when a woman dressed in breeches? He could not help but appreciate the roundness of her curves.

  Victoria did not use a mounting block. Instead, she reached up to hold the reins and saddle, lifting her foot high enough to enter the stirrup to pull herself up.

  It was an impressive mount that even he sometimes found hard to manage. "Shall we be off?" he asked her, gaining his own seat.

  "Where are we going? Is there anywhere particular on the estate you wish to show me?" she asked him, her snug riding jacket and the white shirt beneath accentuating her figure. She looked simply perfect, and his stomach clenched with nerves at having her alone for an hour or so.

  "There are several fields that give a good prospect over the house and hedge groves if you wish to jump."

  "I would enjoy that, thank you," she said to him, all politeness.

  Albert led the way out of the yard, heading up toward the western side of the property and the highest points on his land. They rode in silence for a time, not because they were lost in their own thoughts, he at least, but because he could not make his tongue form the right words to say anything to Victoria.

  He sighed, hating that he was unable to voice all that he wanted to her.

  "Now that we're to be here for some weeks, I hope that you will let me continue our lessons on gaining you a suitable wife. A woman who will inspire sweet sonnets from your hands." She cast him a curious look. "Do you write at all, my lord? A way to a woman's heart is sometimes through the written word."

  He glanced at her, knowing he could write several sonnets, sweet notes, and pages-long letters to Victoria if only she would let him. Words that would sweep her off her delicate feet.

  "I do enjoy writing and reading. Are you a reader, Victoria?" he asked, wanting to move the subject away from him.

  A small, knowing smile lifted her lips as she looked ahead. "I love to read. Gothic romances are my favorite."

  At the mention of the genre that he wrote, Albert schooled his features lest she think he'd swallowed his own tongue.

  "Any in particular?" Albert prayed she hadn't read his novels. The thought of the woman he wanted to be his wife having read his work sent a whole new set of emotions roiling through him. Fear, pride, but most of all the concern that she hated his books. Dear God, what if she loathed the author him. However, would he move forward with their plan knowing all the while that she hated his books? They were like extensions of him—his book children.

  "I adore all the works by Elbert Retsek, but especially the third book in his Beuroguard series. The captain is swoon-worthy while also being quite the scary, forceful character. I would love to meet Mr. Retsek one day, but I doubt I ever will. What with him being such a recluse and wishing to remain anonymous."

  Albert listened to her and fought not to crow. She liked his books. Lady Victoria Worthingham was an enthusiast of his work. Such truths were worthy of a few whoops, and arm waving. Instead, Albert smiled, agreeing with her wholeheartedly.

  "I enjoy Mr. Retsek's work also," he admitted. As the Mr. Retsek, how could he not agree with Victoria's claim? It pleased him she enjoyed his writing. He strove to make each book better, more action-filled, suspenseful, and darker than the last, so to hear a reader say his books were some of their favorites warmed his soul.

  "If only he would come out of the darkness and into the light. Share the joy he gives his readers and relish the accolades that he is worthy of. Do you not think?" she asked him, watching him keenly.

  Albert wished he could step into the light as she said, but he knew he could not. It took all his consideration and effort merely to keep a conversation going with Victoria. The idea of going into a bookstore, of talking to readers, and God forbid, reading aloud from his words sent a shiver of horror down his spine. He was incapable of such an act.

  "Maybe one day he will. We will both have to live in hope." As much as such a thought scared him, he wished he could be more outgoing and easy about people. He wasn't sure why he was the way he was, but he had to think some of his troubles stemmed from his father's bullying to both him and his mama. His father's death had been a blessing in the end. His years of verbal abuse had ended when he'd breathed his last breath.

  "We shall have to, I
agree."

  Victoria was quiet a moment as they walked up toward the top of a hill that gave a great prospective of the house. "Do you think, should the opportunity arise, that you could ride in Hyde Park with a lady of your choice? Your conversation with me seems very easy. I think that if you relaxed, you could be just so with someone else."

  Not that he wanted to be so with anyone other than the lady he was riding with right now. How to make her see him as a potential suitor when he found the words so hard to say. He supposed he could always write her a sonnet. A love letter...

  "I would find it difficult, especially if she showed little interest in what I had to say or found my company boring. And anyway," he said, remembering her words from yesterday’s lesson. “I thought love notes were frowned upon in society?”

  “Society does not need to know everything.” She wiggled her brows before taking in his lands with pleasure. "And you are not at all boring, Albert," she declared, sending him a scolding look. "Any lady would be overjoyed to have your affections."

  You are not one of them, he wanted to add to his chagrin.

  He doubted that many women even knew of his existence, marquess or not. "That is because you are my friend. I have known you for as long as I've known your brother. You are easy to speak with, and I like you more than most."

  She chuckled, and he enjoyed the sound of her giggle. He wished to hear it more often. "You would do marvelous, I'm sure, given a little moral support, and that is what I'm here for. There is to be a country dance at Camberley and a ball at Lord Hammilyn’s. We are attending both, and I hope to hear you will also. It is a ball in your county, after all. It would be rude not to attend."

  He knew of the country dance at Camberley she spoke of. It was the very one each year he was invited to and never attended. Although he ensured the finest musicians came up from London to play for his neighbors and nearby townsfolk. "How could I refuse with you being there by my side." And maybe, if he could bring forth some dutch courage, he could ask her for another waltz and start his courting of a woman in earnest. Not just any suitable miss, but Lady Victoria Worthingham.

  Chapter 11

  Victoria stopped at the top of the hill and overlooked Lord Melvin's estate. The property was very pretty, almost as pretty as Dunsleigh, and she could see herself very happily situated in such a place.

  Her deceased husband’s estate had been near Blackpool in northwest England. The home had been adequate and large, well kept, but the landscape had been so very different to Surrey that Victoria knew she would rarely visit there. Hampshire, however, could capture anyone’s heart, as it had hers.

  The matrimonial road had not been a success for her, but that did not mean that Albert should be so unlucky. She wanted him to have love, friendship, and passion in his life. The ball would allow her to help him choose a couple of suitable ladies and perhaps dance with them. There was no reason for him to be worried about the event. She would not let anything happen to him.

  "I shall have the ladies fawning at your feet by the end of the night, Albert. You shall be pleased with the results. I promise you."

  His visage looked a little green and unsure, and she wondered why the idea of such an evening made him so uncomfortable. She would seek out Josh and ask if he knew any particulars about his lordship, a little insight into his past that may help her with his future.

  "Tell me what other courting particulars you're going to teach me to win a lady's heart."

  Victoria thought about his question a moment. "I will impart the need to be confident, my lord. I'm going to speak plainly, as crass as that is, but some things need to be said." She cast a glance over her shoulder and took in account of how far away their groom was. Hopefully, far enough that he would not hear. "You are an attractive gentleman and a marquess. I stand by my promise of having you betrothed before the next Season."

  Albert jumped down off his horse, striding to stand under a large oak. Victoria followed him, hoping she had not upset him with her forward words. She could sometimes be a little too presumptuous, bossy even. She did not want to offend.

  "I have pushed you a little too much, have I not?" She caught his eye, reaching out to clasp his arm to make him look at her. "Are you angry with me, Lord Melvin?"

  He sighed, running a hand through his hair and leaving it on end. The sight of him a little disheveled made her catch her breath. How was it that this man could not already be married? It was impossible to fathom.

  "What should I do if the lady, at someplace and time, tries to kiss me?" he asked her.

  Relief rolled through her that he wasn't troubled by her help after all, but of the particulars of courtship. "I kissed Mr. Armstrong on the night he proposed.” Not that it had been life-altering. If anything, it had been awfully fast and very wet. A shiver of revulsion ran down her spine at the memory of it. “But before that I did not. It is not what is done." She chewed her lip in thought. "I will tell you this, my lord. My sisters had disclosed that they all kissed their husbands before they were married and say it is most enlightening and pleasant. I should think you may steal a kiss or two if you're set on marrying the one particular lady."

  His lips thinned into a displeased line. "Your husband kissed you?"

  She blinked, unsure where the conversation was headed. “Of course. I was married to him for six weeks before he hied off with his lover.”

  “He ought to die a thousand deaths for hurting you so. If I had you to kiss every night, no one could drag me from your side.”

  The breath in her lungs whooshed out at his words. Had Albert's voice dipped an octave or two, and why did the sound of his voice, his words make her feel odd and achy. "That is a very sweet thing to say.”

  He stared down at her, a dark and hungry light in his eyes that she was unsure the meaning of. “I have never kissed anyone. Pitiful, am I not?”

  "Would you like me to be your first kiss, Albert? To practice on me before another lady, one whom you wish to marry, steps before you?" she added as an afterthought, reminding him she was the teacher here, nothing else.

  "I would not presume that you would be a willing participant to my kisses." He stepped closer, and the heat of his body warmed her.

  She raised her brow, wishing he had not said that. "I'm never marrying again, my lord. My situation in life, fortunately, does not state that I have to. But I would like to kiss you, no matter what you may think. You are my friend and I’m here to help. If you wished to kiss me, I would not refuse you."

  The thought of kissing the handsome man towering over her was enticing. "Tell the groom to turn about and kiss me, Lord Melvin."

  "John," he called. "Please, turn about for a moment."

  The groom did as Albert asked without question.

  She watched, transfixed as Albert seemed to will the courage through himself to kiss her. Victoria could feel herself shaking. Oddly she was a little nervous about kissing him. Once engaged, her husband-to-be had kissed her often. Never had she felt the bubbling up of expectation as she did right now. There was something different about the man standing before her, gaining his nerve that her husband never had.

  You want to kiss Albert. The thought of kissing Paul was never exciting.

  He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her against him. She gasped, having not expected him to be so bold. "Last chance, Lady Victoria," he said, dipping his head.

  Victoria could feel herself leaning into him, willing his lips to touch hers. Heat coursed through her veins like fire at their first touch. His tentative lips urged and beckoned her to kiss him. It was neither wet nor fast, simply a slow seduction that spiraled her wits to the wind.

  She wrapped her arms about his neck, touching the silky hair on his nape, liking the feel of it slipping through her fingers. His hands flexed, clutching tighter against her back, and the pit of her stomach clenched with need. A familiar ache that she recognized as desire. On the few occasions Paul had lain with her after their marriage, his bedding was tha
nkfully much more skilled than his kissing.

  Albert deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with hers. Victoria flung herself into the embrace, wanting more kisses if this was how they were supposed to be. Wicked and delicious. Any wonder her sisters looked flushed and wistful around their husbands.

  He moaned, reaching up to cradle her face, and the kiss changed. No longer slow and coaxing, but deep and demanding. Victoria kissed him with everything she had, reveling in the feel of him, his labored breaths, his arduous need. His hand splayed into her hair, sending multiple pins to scatter to the earth beneath their feet.

  She cared naught for all of it. All she could think about was his kiss, their first kiss. How wonderful that she could have her first real, passionate kiss with a friend, a man she admired and cared for above anyone else. She closed the space between them, her breasts, her nipples, hard little peaks under her shirt and riding jacket. The feel of his chest teased and taunted, but she could not stop. She wanted more. So much more than kissing, and that in itself ought to give her pause, but it did not.

  * * *

  Albert could not get enough of Victoria. Hell, he'd wanted to kiss her almost from the very first moment he'd met her, and that was several years ago when he was still in short coats at Eton.

  The woman in his arms, slender and yet womanly, tall and yet short enough that he had to lean down a little to kiss her. Long, soft strawberry-blonde hair was silky between his fingers. Her skin soft, her mouth pliant and willing and right at this moment, driving him to the point of madness.

  He'd never kissed a woman before, hadn't known what to do when she suggested that she be his first. Would she think less of him if she knew all of his secrets? That he'd not only never kissed a woman but had never slept with one either. From watching the few friends he had over the years when they married, their wives were always quite satisfied with their husband's talents.