“It’s not your fault, sir,” Simons said kindly. “The army didn’t exactly provide you with many opportunities for civilised social interactions.”
“Remind me again why I keep you around?” Alex asked dryly. For answer, Simons placed a glass of brandy into his hand, waved at his book placed ready for him on a table at his elbow, and indicated for him to lift his foot so Simons could start removing his boots. “Ah, yes. Of course. Because I couldn’t do without you.”
Simons gave a small smile and nodded before tugging his first boot off. “Did you enjoy your dinner, sir? I must say, the servants eat well here. I have rarely dined so heartily.”
Embarrassed to admit he couldn’t recall a single dish served that evening, Alex seized his opportunity gratefully. “Speaking of servants, Simons, who is attending Lady Creighton? I’m assuming she brought her own lady’s maid, at least…”
“No, sir.” Removing the other boot, Simons straightened up. “A maid named Jean has been assigned to her. A nice young woman and one not inclined to gossip about her mistress, even if it is only a temporary post for her. She was quite repressive when two of the other maids began to gossip about the unconventional manner in which the lady arrived.”
“What unconventional manner?” Alex looked up.
“That I have not yet been able to discern, sir. So far, all I know is that she arrived a full week earlier than expected.” Simons hesitated. “May I enquire as to your interest in Lady Creighton, sir?”
“No.”
“Very good, sir. I shall see what further information I may glean tomorrow.” Simons knew better than to press when Alex spoke in that flat tone; the valet removed himself, taking Alex’s boots through to his adjoining chamber where he would polish them to a high shine.
Left alone, Alex brooded over his brandy, staring into the glowing coals of the fire. Why had Marianne come a week early, and under what ‘unconventional’ circumstances? Perhaps she had been escorted by a man, he thought suddenly; that would certainly be unconventional. She was a very beautiful widow, after all. Perhaps a lover had brought her here - cast her off? That would explain her arrival a week early, too.
By the time he’d finished the second glass of brandy, Alex had convinced himself his theory was correct. Which meant Marianne would be looking for a new lover.
A wolfish smile curved his lips as he drained the glass and set it down.
That was a role he’d gladly fulfil for her.
)
Waking early the following morning, Alex could not remember the last time he’d slept so well. He could not recall the last time he retired so early, either; perhaps that had something to do with getting a good night’s sleep, he acknowledged with a grin at his own foolishness.
Simons bustled about importantly, bringing him riding clothes and suggesting he might wish to go for an early ride, as rain was expected later in the day.
“Julius will want a run,” Alex agreed, accepting his gloves from the valet. “And I daresay breakfast will be served throughout the morning, at the convenience of guests?”
“Indeed, sir. There is a morning room in the east wing where a buffet will be kept ready until noon, I understand. Any of the house servants can escort you there.”
Perhaps I’ll catch Marianne there. Or perhaps she will be out riding herself, Alex thought as he headed downstairs and out to the stables, spying a lady by the mounting-block being assisted up onto a pretty dappled grey mare. As he drew closer, however, he recognised Ellen, Thomas waiting to one side, already mounted on a leggy chestnut gelding.
“Good morning!” Ellen called to him in delight as she saw him approaching. “It is a lovely morning for a ride; would you care to accompany us?”
Alex acknowledged it was indeed a fine morning, especially for December; the air was crisp and clear, frost riming the grass, a light breeze blowing. He could hardly decline the invitation, either, though he remarked that his horse would want a good gallop.
“We can certainly accommodate that,” Thomas said cheerfully. “I saw your stallion; he’s a fine fellow. John Pembroke will want to talk with you about maybe taking him down to Hampshire to visit with some of his mares, I daresay.”
“No doubt Julius would enjoy the holiday.” Alex winked cheekily at Ellen. “Especially with eager ladies waiting for him at the end of the trip!”
Ellen blushed a little. “Outrageous, Glenkellie,” she reproved. “Apparently you have forgotten, in your years in the army, that true ladies do not appreciate bawdy talk.” Her eyes twinkled, though, and Alex knew she’d already forgiven him.
“Forgive me, Lady Havers.” He executed a bow to her. “I shall endeavour to remember my manners.”
Julius was led out then by a groom; Alex greeted the stallion fondly. The former warhorse nickered and pushed his head against Alex’s chest, sending him back an involuntary step with the force of the shove.
“Behave, you great fool,” Alex said in amusement, fishing an apple from his pocket.
“He truly is beautiful,” Ellen commented as Alex mounted up and rode up alongside her. “What colour is that called? His body looks almost blue, though his head and legs are black.”
“That’s what it’s called, blue roan. It’s a trick of the light; the individual hairs are black and white, evenly mixed.” Alex patted Julius’ thickly muscled neck affectionately. “He carried me through many a battle in Belgium and France. Frankly, he’s earned a quiet retirement and as many lady friends as he wishes.”
“If only all England’s valiant soldiers could have the same,” Ellen said sincerely.
Touched, Alex bowed to her again. Julius frisked a few steps as his weight shifted, and Alex reined him in firmly. “Not yet, boy. Not yet.”
“Not so fast as a thoroughbred, I daresay, but unstoppable once you get him up to speed?” Thomas asked, reining in his chestnut on Ellen’s other side.
“Quite so,” Alex agreed. “Thoroughbreds are all very well for racing a mile or so, but for long campaigns and cavalry charges, a stronger and more durable mount is needed. Your mount might win a short race, but over the course of a day, Julius would run him into the ground.” He patted the charger’s proudly arched neck.
“Well, we haven’t a day,” Thomas said, “so we can only challenge you to a short race, I’m afraid.”
“We?” Alex queried.
“Watch out for Lady Havers. She races to win,” Thomas said with a grin, and was proved right a moment later as Ellen urged her mare to a gallop, shouting over her shoulder;
“Last one to the split oak is a rotten egg!”
Laughing, Alex gave Julius his head, and in the stallion’s joyous gallop of freedom forgot for a little while all the concerns which plagued his restless mind.
Chapter Eleven
)
From the windows of the morning room, Marianne watched the three riders as they crossed the landscape into the distance. Alexander was unmistakable, tall and straight-backed; he sat his horse with the ease of someone who had lived in his saddle for nearly months on end.
“Lady Creighton.”
A voice behind her made her turn, and she smiled as she saw Amelia Pembroke. “Please, call me Marianne,” she invited. “I would as soon forget my marriage ever happened, to tell the truth.”
They were alone save for a couple of servants bustling about the buffet laid out on a dresser at the other end of the room, and Amelia gave her a sympathetic look. “I can quite understand why you feel that way. I never told you before, but I was so very shocked when your engagement was announced and then you married Creighton so quickly. I thought you’d have eloped with Rotherhithe before marrying a man you didn’t love.”
“Had he given me the opportunity, I would have done.” Marianne looked back to the window. The three horses were galloping now, dwindling to specks before fading from sight entirely, swallowed up by a fold of the landscape. “He had already taken ship for the Peninsula, though. The marriage had no doubt already taken p
lace by the time he could even have heard of the engagement, but I still hoped he would do something - come back and challenge Creighton, shoot him dead, and take me away.”
Amelia said nothing, but her look spoke volumes of understanding.
“I was very young.”
“Do you hold any hopes in Rotherhithe - excuse me, he’s Glenkellie now, of course - any hopes in his direction?”
“Good Lord, no.” Marianne willed her hand not to shake as she cut her toast into small, delicate triangles. “It’s long in the past, Amelia. We’ve both moved on. He needs a wealthy, well-connected young bride to produce the next generation of Rotherhithes, not a barren, penniless widow who is all but cast-off from her family!”
“I beg your pardon.” Amelia blinked.
Marianne realised the other woman did not know of her full situation. “I’m afraid Creighton was as callous in death as in life,” she said ruefully, before quietly explaining the terms of her dower and her falling-out with Arthur and Lavinia.
“How appalling,” Amelia said with her usual forthrightness once Marianne had finished speaking. “I don’t know which I find worse; that Creighton treated you so shabbily, or that his heir seeks to compound the insult!”
Marianne smiled wryly but said nothing as a footman set a steaming teapot and a polished wooden tea caddy down on the table between them. Opening the caddy, she spooned some of the fragrant leaves into the hot water.
“Considering my husband’s character, I should have expected no less,” she said finally.
“Well, I think it’s disgraceful,” Amelia said hotly, “and I should like to extend an invitation to you to come to Hampshire and live with us, as my dear friend, once you are weary of London. You need only send a note and I will have Pembroke come himself with a carriage to collect you.” She smiled a little shyly and leaned close. “I shall want a friend close by in a few months,” she confided. “I am enceinte, at last.”
“That is wonderful news and a most generous offer,” Marianne said warmly. “I thank you for it most gratefully. I daresay I will spend the rest of my days imposing on all of my friends in turn until they are all heartily sick of me darkening their doors!”
“Never,” Amelia disclaimed loyally.
They were joined then by the Alleyne family, who came in en masse, exclaiming excitedly over how well they had slept, how comfortable the beds were, and how attentive the servants of Havers Hall. Marianne was not displeased to end her conversation with Amelia; discussing her future prospects was a depressing topic indeed, though it warmed her heart to know she still had Amelia’s friendship.
)
They were still at table when the riders returned; Amelia’s husband had met up with the others out in the countryside somewhere and the four entered the morning room with broad smiles and hearty appetites. Tempted to excuse herself immediately, Marianne realised it would be rather rude as Mr. Pembroke took a seat by his wife and leaned across her to bid Marianne a cheerful good morning.
“It is indeed, sir. Did you enjoy your ride?”
“Very much so; it is a fine morning for a hearty gallop!” He turned to his wife. “I am sorry you were not feeling well enough to join me, my heart,” he said in an undertone, picking up Amelia’s hand and kissing it. “Are you quite recovered?”
“I am.” Amelia smiled fondly at him. “I have invited Marianne to come stay with us, perhaps in early May or so.”
“Ah.” Mr. Pembroke glanced at Marianne before looking back at his wife, who nodded at him. “Lady Creighton would be most welcome at any time, but if you would like her with you then, I shall move heaven and earth to find some way to persuade her.”
“Such efforts will not be required, I promise.” Marianne gave him a warm smile. “I am delighted to accept the invitation and may only need to impose on you for some transport, probably from London.”
“It is not the slightest imposition, my lady.” Pembroke dismissed her concerns with a wave of his hand.
Boots on the polished wooden floorboards heralded another arrival, and Marianne glanced up, only to meet Alexander’s eyes as he entered the room.
All the breath seemed to rush out of her body, and she clenched her hands tightly in her lap, digging her nails into her palms.
Steady. Steady, she ordered herself. It was all a long time ago. Alexander is nothing to you now.
The pounding of her heart told her she was a liar - and the look of scorn on Alexander’s face told her there was nothing she could do to turn back the clock, anyway. Lowering her eyes, she tried to take slow, calming breaths and regain her composure.
)
Breakfast seemed to last an unconscionably long time, with everyone chatting sociably about their plans for the day. Though he’d worked up a hearty appetite on the ride, the food tasted like ashes to Alexander.
Look at her, sitting among decent folk, acting as though she hasn’t a care in the world.
Every smile Marianne offered someone else was like a dagger to his chest. Viscount Thorpington -- seated directly opposite her -- kept missing his mouth with his fork as he gazed at her, utterly entranced, and young Joseph Alleyne was no better. Alexander’s hand clenched around his knife until his knuckles turned white; he didn’t notice how tight his grip was until his fingers began to cramp painfully.
“Is your beefsteak not to your liking, Glenkellie?” Thomas enquired politely as Alex dropped the knife with a clatter.
“It’s fine, thank you,” Alex muttered, massaging his stiff fingers. “A sudden cramp, that’s all.”
Thomas gave him a sceptical look before his gaze moved to where Marianne sat. “Is that what you call it?”
A dull flush suffused Alex’s cheeks, and he looked away, picking his knife up and cutting into his steak again. Fortunately, Sir Tobias Alleyne leaned over to speak to Thomas, saving Alex from having to think up a response to the awkward question.
)
The ladies began to drift away from the table first, Ellen announcing they would be gathering in the front parlour to converse. “I regret I have no particular activities planned for the day, but with the rest of the guests due to arrive I must be here to welcome them,” she said, and at once the other ladies were declaring they should like nothing better than a relaxing morning sitting in a comfortable parlour with a warm fire.
“Don’t forget your embroidery, dear,” Lady Alleyne told her daughter, who sighed. Marianne sympathised. She had always found embroidery deadly dull, too.
“Or, should you prefer, Havers Hall has a wonderful library,” she said confidingly to Miss Alleyne, “which they are most obliging about letting one browse. Would you like to come and look for something to read with me?”
“Very much!” Miss Alleyne said quickly before her mother could object, and Lady Serena promptly asked if she might come with them too.
Marianne led the two young women off to the library, smiling with pleasure as they both exclaimed over the collection. Leaving them considering the choices from a shelf of novels, she browsed deeper into the stacks, recalling she had spied some travelogues last time she’d visited the room. Stories of exotic lands and adventurous (if probably highly fictionalised) derring-do might be just the thing to keep her mind occupied.
Sitting down by a window to leaf through a book about an intrepid Englishwoman’s travels in the Orient, Marianne lost track of time. She did not hear the two younger women come to the end of the row of shelves where she sat, did not see the amused glance they traded before they stole away quietly, leaving her quite alone.
She almost jumped out of her skin, however, when a deep voice said, “So this is where you’re hiding.”
Marianne clenched her hands on the book, trying to hide their trembling, and took a moment to compose herself before she looked up. “Hiding? Hardly,” she said, trying to keep her tone light and amused. “I’m sure I was quite clear in declaring my intentions to come here. After all, it wasn’t difficult for you to find me, was it, Lord Glenkellie
?”
Alexander stared down at her, his eyes hard and cold like chips of ice. A tic made the scar on his cheek jump like a living thing as he clenched his jaw. Then he surprised her again by taking a seat on the window seat next to her. Too close! His thigh, muscled and hard beneath tight nankeen breeches, was pressed against hers through the woollen fabric of her skirt. Marianne tried to shift away, but she’d used the wall at her side to lean on when she took her seat and there was little room to move.
“We need to talk,” he said finally.
“About what?” She genuinely couldn’t imagine what he might have to say to her after all these years.
“I know what you’re up to.”
Marianne blinked, confused, and stopped trying to avoid Alexander’s eyes. “I beg your pardon?”
“Leave Thorpington and Alleyne out of your schemes. They’re nice young men who deserve better than to have their hearts broken just because you’re bored.”
“I beg your pardon!” Her mouth fell open with shock.
“You’re repeating yourself, and you understand me quite well, I believe. Don’t encourage those two boys - or you’ll answer to me.”
Marianne’s cheeks flushed with sudden fury. “I do not care for your insinuations, and allow me to make it clear that I do not answer to you on any matter, Lord Glenkellie!” She made to rise, but a powerful hand closed around her wrist, holding her firmly in place.
“Not so fast, my lady.” His deep voice put a mocking inflection on her title.
“Unhand me at once!” Her gaze spat daggers as she looked at him, her voice cold and brittle as ice. She was still surprised when he let go, his large fingers opening quickly.
“Your pardon,” he mumbled, flushing darkly. “I did not intend - I have never laid hand to a woman in anger before.”
“Then what in heaven’s name possessed you to do so now?” Marianne demanded, her anger fuelling her tongue. “What have I ever done to you, that you should raise your hand to me?”
Alexander stared at her in silence.
Disgusted, she rose and tried to leave, but as she reached the end of the row of shelves, four quiet words stopped her in her tracks.
A Marquis For Marianne (Blushing Brides Book 2) Page 7
