A Marquis For Marianne (Blushing Brides Book 2)

by Catherine Bilson

  Ellen joined him in the parlour a few minutes later. “Glenkellie, what’s so urgent?” she came straight to the point.

  Glancing at the door, Alex wondered if he should wait for Marianne, but perhaps it was better she did not hear what he had to say.

  “I need you to be very vigilant in keeping Lady Marianne by your side,” he kept his voice low.

  “Why?” Ellen asked in her usual straightforward way. “I am quite willing to do as you ask, but if there is anything in particular I should look for, I would prefer to know. Forewarned is forearmed.”

  “Quite so, Lady Havers.” Trying to think how best to phrase the truth without being offensive, Alex said carefully, “It has come to my attention that Lady Marianne’s public declaration that she does not intend to marry again may have given the wrong impression in certain quarters.”

  Ellen looked completely blank.

  He sighed and tried again. “I overheard some gossip in my club regarding the possibility of Lady Marianne accepting a less than respectable offer.”

  This time, Ellen understood. Outrage dawned in her expression and she spluttered for a moment before saying, “Good God, some men really are just… just…”

  “Horses’ behinds?” Alex suggested.

  “Exactly!”

  “Who’s a horse’s behind?” Marianne asked as she entered the room.

  Alex and Ellen looked at each other.

  “If there is anyone specific you could name, I know I’d want to know so I could avoid them,” Ellen said.

  “Very well.” Alex winced, but turned to Marianne. “You’re acquainted with Lord Ferry, I understand?”

  “Yes, for some years now.” Marianne’s brows drew down in a frown. “What about him?”

  “I’m afraid your declaration that you do not intend to remarry has given Lord Ferry the wrong impression. His intentions towards you are less than honourable.”

  Dark colour rushed to Marianne’s cheeks. “And you know this, how?” she asked after a moment of silence.

  “He was gossiping about his intentions in Brooks’. I overheard,” Alex said apologetically.

  “Damn men!” The words exploded from Marianne, her fists clenching with anger as she turned to pace over to the window and glare out.

  “If you would excuse me a moment,” Ellen said, “I wish to let the staff know Lord Ferry is never to be admitted to this house under any pretext.” She left the room, her heels clipping on the polished wooden floor.

  In the silence, Alexander wondered if he should leave too, but Marianne was clearly overset. Not wanting to press her, he moved over to the window adjacent to where she stood and sat down on the cushioned window seat, thinking he would just keep her quiet company until Ellen returned. He was quite surprised when she turned from her contemplation of the street outside and sat down beside him.

  “Have you ever discovered any disadvantages to being blessed with good looks?” Marianne asked unexpectedly.

  Surprised, Alex shook his head. “No, but they are spoiled now.” Unconsciously, he fingered the scar on his cheek. He’d already seen distaste from plenty of ladies as their eyes lingered on it.

  “Nonsense, it only makes you look more distinguished,” Marianne said with a sniff. “I wonder if it would work for me, though? Some sort of disfigurement - perhaps I could cut all my hair off.”

  “You would still be the most beautiful woman I know, even if you went ahead and did it,” Alex answered, trying to concentrate on her words rather than the warm feelings engendered by her compliment.

  Marianne eyed him, her expression wary. “You’re not going to tell me I must not?”

  “Why should I? ‘Tis your hair. I would miss your crowning glory,” daringly, he reached out to touch a curl which dangled along her neck, “but I have no right to tell you what to do. That is rather the point of you not wishing to marry again, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed, but there are plenty of men who would still try to tell me what I may or may not do, without any reason to claim authority over me whatsoever.”

  Alex offered her a sympathetic smile. “Perhaps you should use that as a tactic to weed out those you do not wish to associate with. Tell them you are considering cutting your hair off, and anyone who tries to tell you not to is not truly worthy of your friendship.”

  “I fear I should be left with only you and Havers as friends.” Marianne’s answering smile was wry.

  “A tragic but honest assessment of my gender,” Alex agreed ruefully.

  They sat in silence for a moment before Marianne asked him another unexpected question. “If - when you take a wife, Glenkellie, would you forbid her to cut her hair off?”

  “Certainly not,” he said at once, then re-thought. “I might try to persuade her not to, but if she was quite set on it, I would ask that she let a maid do it, lest she injure herself with scissors when trying to cut at the back of her head where she cannot see.”

  Her expression was wistful. “That is an even better answer than your first response. Your wife will be a lucky woman.”

  “I hope she will think so,” was the only response he could think of, aside from falling to his knees and begging her to marry him. It was definitely not the best moment for a proposal.

  But dear God, if only he could!

  Chapter Twenty-One

  )

  The Duchess of Balford’s Ball

  Marianne was still angry by the time she arrived at the Balford ball. Determined to stand firm in the face of spiteful gossip, she had taken particular care with her appearance, selecting one of her most beautiful gowns, a silk creation which changed between blue and green depending on the light. Simple in cut, it depended entirely on the quality of the fabric and the beauty of the wearer to carry it off. She knew she’d achieved the desired effect when Lavinia took one look at her and sighed in despair.

  “Nobody will even look at Diana, with you here,” she said dismally.

  “Lavinia.” Marianne shook her head. “You do not want a man for Diana whose head might be turned by me. Such a man would not suit her at all, and you do want her to be happy, don’t you?”

  Obviously struck by the argument, Lavinia nodded in agreement. “I daresay you are correct,” she conceded.

  “And look, here is the Marquis of Glenkellie to claim you for the first dance,” Marianne told Diana, who was looking very pretty in a white gown with a silver net overlay, tiny silver stars sparkling in her dark brown hair. “Everyone will be asking who the lovely young lady he could hardly wait to dance with is, believe me.”

  Diana smiled shyly back at her. “I know he would far rather be dancing with you,” she whispered as Lavinia turned away for a moment to speak to an acquaintance.

  “Well, to tell the truth, there isn’t anyone else I should like to dance with,” Marianne admitted. Ever since Alexander had revealed the gossip to her and Ellen yesterday, she had been thinking about it; if Lord Ferry, a married man, was looking at her with speculation, who could she possibly trust? She would look at every dance partner with caution from now on.

  Alexander arrived before them and executed a bow to each of them, greeting them very politely.

  “I hope you have not given away my dance, Lady Diana?” he said with a warm twinkle. “The musicians are tuning up now, and I believe we will open with a quadrille.”

  “The quadrille is quite my favourite,” Diana said shyly, placing her hand on his proffered arm. “I am very sensible of the honour you do me, Lord Glenkellie; thank you for asking me to dance.”

  “It is I who am honoured, Lady Diana.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “That is, so long as you do not step on my toes!”

  Diana giggled as Alexander led her away, and Lavinia shook her head. “He’s not remotely interested in her, I think, but he does seem very nice.”

  “Quite the nicest man of my acquaintance,” Marianne said a little wistfully.

  “Lavinia, who’s that tall chap dancing with Diana?” Arthur hurried up to
them, rather out of breath. He didn’t bother to greet Marianne.

  “The Marquis of Glenkellie, dear. You recall, Marianne introduced us to him and the dowager marchioness at the theatre last week, and he requested a dance with Diana.”

  “A marquis,” Arthur puffed up. “Well, that’s a coup! Glenkellie’s very rich, I hear.”

  “Do not get your hopes up.” Lavinia shook her head. “He only asked as a favour to Marianne, I think.”

  “Why should he owe you favours?”

  Arthur looks rather like a carp, Marianne thought, his eyes bulging and his mouth open as he turned to her.

  “Lord Glenkellie owes me nothing,” she said, “but we are old friends.”

  “Indeed!” Arthur’s brows shot up, and then he leaned forward. “You may have made a cuckold out of my uncle,” he said viciously, “but you’re still a Creighton, and I’ll not have you bringing the name into disrepute. There are already rumours circulating about you!”

  “Arthur!” Lavinia sounded genuinely shocked. Grasping her husband’s arm, she shot Marianne an apologetic look. “Pray excuse us.”

  Marianne was more than happy to turn on her heel and hurry away. How could anyone ever believe she had cuckolded her husband? He had never tolerated her so much as speaking to another man unless he was present, had punished her if gentlemen tried to approach, claiming she must have enticed them with her smile, her manner. She would not have the slightest idea how to encourage a suitor!

  Blinded by tears of rage and hurt, Marianne pushed her way through the crowd, finally escaping the ballroom and hurrying to a retiring room.

  )

  Alexander witnessed Marianne’s flight and Lady Havers going in hasty pursuit. Caught in the middle of the dance floor, he could only bite his lip and watch, hoping Ellen could help with whatever had obviously upset Marianne.

  “Are you in love with my aunt?”

  The blunt question from Lady Diana as the pattern of the dance brought them back together made him miss a step.

  “I beg your pardon?” he stuttered.

  “Because I think she’s in love with you.” Diana’s brown eyes were clear and guileless as she looked up at him.

  “She claims she doesn’t want to marry.”

  “She doesn’t want to marry someone who would treat her as appallingly as my great-uncle did, she means. Would you treat her badly?”

  “I would treat her like a queen,” Alexander said, heartfelt.

  Diana smiled. “I thought so. Your eyes give you away when you see her, you know.”

  “And to think, I thought you were shy,” he marvelled.

  “I am, rather.” She blushed prettily. “But sometimes, direct action is called for, and I can be brave if I must. Clarissa and I talked and she said I absolutely had to talk to you. Especially since Mama thinks, er...” she trailed off.

  “Thinks I should marry you?” Alexander asked.

  “Well, yes. I should never want a husband in love with someone else, though, so I should take it as a very great favour if you do not pay me too much attention.”

  “Noted,” he said gravely. “And thank you.”

  “What for?”

  “Helping me come to a decision I have been pondering for some time: what exactly I should say to Lady Marianne. You are correct that I am in love with her, and marrying someone else wouldn’t be fair to anyone involved.”

  Diana is really quite beautiful when she smiles like that, Alexander thought as the dance ended and everyone applauded the musicians. Offering his arm, he led Diana back to her mother and thanked her for the dance. Young men were already flocking around, jostling for introductions, and he paused to say to Diana, quietly so that nobody else would overhear, “Should you ever require any assistance, I pray you will not hesitate to call upon me.”

  “Thank you, Lord Glenkellie.” She sank into a curtsey. “I am sure your partner for the next dance is eagerly awaiting you.”

  He hoped so. With a final bow in the Countess’ direction, he turned and headed for the ballroom doors, hoping Marianne might have returned to the room. He could not see her or Ellen Havers anywhere.

  Lady Jersey was close by the door, and he paused to offer his respects and ask whether she had seen Marianne. “She promised me the second dance,” he said, trying to make his voice sound casual. “I’ve waited almost a decade to dance with her, you know.”

  “I do know, as a matter of fact. Not just a dance you’ve been waiting for either, is it?” Lady Jersey’s eyes were uncomfortably sharp. “Don’t waste any more time, Glenkellie.”

  “I’m trying, my lady.”

  “She’s skittish, and rightfully so, but I believe she trusts you. Don’t let her down.”

  “I won’t.”

  Behind Lady Jersey, Alex saw Marianne re-entering the ballroom, Lady Havers by her side. Her colour was a little high, but she was holding her chin up defiantly, her green eyes flashing fire.

  Alex approached quickly, making a low bow. “Lady Marianne,” he said. “The second dance is about to begin, if you are still willing to grant me the honour?”

  She hesitated, and then said, “Would you mind if we danced the third instead of this one? I would like a little fresh air.”

  The French doors leading to the terrace were thrown wide open to allow cool air into the room, so Alex led her in that direction. Outside, he was careful to lead her to the balustrade well in view of everyone in the ballroom, so nobody could say any impropriety might be occurring.

  “I saw you leave the room in something of a hurry a little while ago. Did your nephew say something to upset you?” Alex asked, trying to be tactful. He wanted to demand answers -- maybe punch Arthur a few times for putting that look on her face -- but he had no right to demand anything from Marianne.

  “He seems to manage it on a regular basis,” Marianne said, her mouth twisting as though she tasted something bad. “Pray, do not concern yourself.”

  “But I do concern myself,” Alex let a little of the intense emotion he felt spill over into his words, “I find myself very concerned for you, Marianne. If gossip has reached your nephew, he could make your life very uncomfortable.”

  Her face tightened a little, but she met his eyes steadily. “I hope my friends know who I truly am… Alexander.”

  “I know who you are. You are not only the most beautiful woman I know, you are also the bravest person I’ve ever met, man or woman.”

  )

  Startled at his description of her, Marianne blinked. “I’m not brave.”

  “How can you say that? You survived a living hell of a marriage for eight years, never letting anyone else know your true feelings. You carry scars to the soul as deep as any soldier, and yet you concern yourself more with the happiness of others than your soul. Your courage both awes and humbles me.”

  They stood a decorous foot apart, staring at each other, yet Marianne felt almost as though he enfolded her in a warm, comforting embrace. There was no doubting the sincerity of Alexander’s words… or the depth of his regard for her.

  “I cannot bear to see you insulted and degraded,” he said at last, when she could not find words to speak. “I cannot. I know you do not wish to marry, and I would never press you, though my heart’s desire is… well, I said I would not, and I will not.” His jaw clenched as though he was struggling with himself, and she saw his fists were opening and closing at his sides. “Instead, I wish to offer you something else, with no expectations. My mother plans to travel to Italy to visit with her sister this year; she will remain at least a twelvemonth. She has taken a liking to you and pressed me to ask if you would like to accompany her.”

  Marianne’s mouth fell open. “Your mother wants me to go to Italy with her?” she said at last, incredulously.

  “Indeed. My aunt is widowed and lives in Florence; she is a duchessa and very well respected. You might wish to remain with her there, if you wish.”

  “Because here, there will always be gossip and innuendo,”
Marianne said quietly. “You’re offering me an escape.”

  Her hand rested on the stone balustrade at the edge of the terrace, and he reached out to put his own over it. “I would offer you everything I have, everything I am, if only you would accept,” Alexander said.

  She could see it in his eyes, his love as intense and unchanging as the day he had been forced to leave her to go to war. “I promised I’d wait for you, and I couldn’t,” she whispered.

  “I promised I would come back for you, and I failed you. I can never make up for what you suffered, but please, Marianne. Allow me to be of service, in this or any other way you wish.”

  His fingers were warm on hers, and she wanted more. Wanted his arms around her, wanted the safety of him, the sure and certain knowledge that he sought only to make her happy.

  “Ask me.” She could barely get the words out, her voice a thin croak, and she had to repeat herself before Alexander’s eyes widened in comprehension.

  Slowly, he lifted her hand and brought it to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers.

  “Lady Marianne,” he said, and she loved him all the more for his choice to be formal while avoiding the hated name of Creighton, “would you do me the very great honour of granting me your hand in marriage?”

  She had to take a deep breath to answer, but he had called her the bravest person he knew, and his belief in her courage made it easier to believe in herself.

  “Only if you promise we can go to Italy on our honeymoon. I’ve always wanted to see Florence.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  )

  Alexander could hardly believe what he was hearing as Marianne spoke, her words making all his dreams come true. “Anything,” he promised fervently. “Anywhere you wish.”

  “Only, perhaps we could wait until later in the year? I did promise to go to Amelia Pembroke when she is brought to bed with her child, and I think Ellen Havers may need me in August for the same reason.” Marianne gave him an appealing look, one he knew he would always struggle to resist.

  “Wait until August to get married?” Alexander’s distress at the thought of waiting so long must have been quite obvious, because Marianne chuckled and squeezed his fingers gently between her gloved ones.