To Marry A Marquess (A Regency Romance)

by Teresa McCarthy

  Phoebe had received the viscount in the drawing room, but as soon as Victoria entered, her aunt suddenly remembered she had something she needed to do.

  Alone with Lord Foxcroft, Victoria tried to relax, hoping he was every bit the gentleman her aunt had assured her he was. When he asked her forgiveness concerning his behavior the night before, she was amused.

  "I should slap you for the way you behaved," she said lightly. "As I hear it, perhaps the duke has already done the deed."

  He quickly moved to show her one side of his face. "If it makes you feel any better, Lady Victoria, please do. Slap me senseless. His Grace is like a father to me, and I can tell you the man gave me the tongue-lashing of my life." He sent her a mischievous grin. "Yes, I know. I deserved it."

  She chuckled. "You are impossible, my lord." She separated herself by walking to the other side of the room, her skirt swishing against her ankles, oblivious to the viscount's bold gaze attached to her backside.

  "Lady Victoria?"

  She turned, raising a questioning brow.

  "Do I dare ask for your company tonight at the opera? I am offered a place in the duke's box."

  "And am I safe there?" she asked, mischief dancing in her eyes.

  "If you ever have need of a protector, you have one in the duke." Lord Foxcroft grinned and strode toward her. "Of course, the duke is not here now." He took another step, and her eyes widened.

  She was saved from scolding the man when her butler Winston interrupted the cozy scene with a stern face directed toward the viscount. "My lady."

  "Yes, Winston." Victoria glanced up and fought back a laugh. Sometimes Winston acted as if he were her guard dog.

  Her butler spared another stern glance at the viscount, then shifted a firm glare toward her. The duke was not her only protector.

  "Lord Wendover is visiting," Winston added. "Are you receiving, my lady?"

  Victoria felt as if Winston had stolen the breath from her lungs. Lord Wendover? What would that man want after all these years? He was the heir to her father's earldom and had literally thrown her out of her home when her parents had died. But how could she deny the man entrance with the viscount standing right beside her?

  "Show the gentleman in," she said coolly, missing Foxcroft's frown as he eyed the butler.

  Lady Phoebe entered the drawing room at the exact moment Victoria's second cousin, the Earl of Wendover, entered. The man was clad in a black cloak from head to toe, except for his perfectly folded cravat and crisp white shirt.

  The introductions were made.

  Some would say Lord Wendover was a handsome man with his light blue eyes and fair hair, but to Victoria, a sneering arrogance hid in that beady gaze, something the others didn't seem to notice, but something she remembered since she was a child.

  Lord Wendover took Phoebe's hand. "Lady Phoebe, my sincere apologies that I have neglected you all these years, but I wish to make it up to you. I admit I have been quite lax in my duties."

  Aunt Phoebe's face lit up with pleasure. "Think nothing about it, my lord. We are all busy with our own lives."

  Victoria's jaw dropped. How could her aunt be so friendly to the man? But then again, her aunt did not have a malicious bone in her body, something Victoria could not say for herself. Wendover was horrid, and she wanted nothing to do with him.

  "And Lady Victoria, you have grown into a beautiful woman, dear cousin."

  Victoria forced the corners of her lips to curve upward when the man moved to take her gloved hand in his. His clasp was as cold as his heart. "You are too kind, my lord."

  Phoebe took Wendover's arm as if they were old friends. "You will join us tonight at the opera, will you not? We must become more acquainted. I fear I have not been on my best behavior since my brother died. It was so good of you to come here and mend the bridge between us."

  Victoria almost fainted on the Aubusson rug beneath her.

  "I would be delighted, dear lady. It would be a pleasure to venture out with such beautiful women as yourselves."

  Victoria felt Lord Foxcroft stiffen beside her.

  Minutes later, after the two men left, Victoria climbed the stairs, overwhelmed at the way her life was changing. She knew full well that she might see the pirate at the opera because she would be sitting in the duke's private box. And then there was Wendover who had appeared like a long lost son. The impudence of the man to show his face after all these years.

  There was a knock at the front door, but she didn't think twice as Winston answered it. She began to review what plans she would have to make for the evening. One, how could she avoid Wendover? And two, how could she avoid the pirate?

  She stumbled on the stairs when a familiar voice floated up to her. "Good afternoon, I am here to see Lady Phoebe. Please convey to her that Lord Drakefield has come to visit."

  Victoria's blood turned to ice. She barely heard the rest of the words spoken between Winston and the man. Her grip on the banister tightened. She dared not look back. But because she wanted to live, she scampered up the last few steps and flattened herself against the wall. It was the duke's son. But not only that, it was the pirate from the inn!

  Chapter Six

  Drake stood, patiently waiting inside Lady Phoebe's drawing room, still feeling the brunt of his father's rebuke, and all because he had missed being introduced to the new duchess-to-be. He had not recalled a tongue-lashing from his father like the one he’d received that morning since he had been fifteen and was caught in the stables with the cook's daughter.

  The duke did more than boil the morning eggs with his anger. He scorched Drake's ears with words Drake had never heard his father use before. Though the duke's command was never enough to make Drake do anything he did not want to do—at least not at his age—in the end, Drake believed it harder to avoid Lady Phoebe than to meet her, so he chose the latter.

  Drake heard the running steps behind him and spun on his heels just as a blond-haired boy rammed into his leg.

  Stifling his laughter, Drake caught the child's two small shoulders, steadying him and proceeded to lift the wide-eyed boy high into the air, ready to inspect him nose to nose. "Well, what have we here?"

  The child wore a black hat that rested sideways on his head making him look like a pirate. To Drake's amazement, two bright blue eyes stared back at him, and it seemed as if the boy were inspecting every crack and crevice in his face. But the color of those eyes looked all too familiar.

  Drake's heart picked up a beat. Not just an ordinary blue, but aquamarine. Or was it turquoise?

  He tried to keep a straight face, but felt the corners of his eyes crinkle into a smile when the boy began to tug at his queued hair. "Find anything of interest, lad?"

  "A pirate," the boy said in awe, squinting at him.

  Drake gave the boy a solemn stare, hiding his smile. "Looking for a sword perhaps? Ah, matie, I left that on me ship with me bottle of rum."

  The boy smiled. "Oh, I know all about rum."

  At the top of the stairs, Victoria felt the panic rise to her throat as she inched from her position against the wall to peer down at the man standing at the edge of the drawing room doors, holding William in his arms. It was the same man from the inn, and he looked even more ominous than he had when she had seen him last.

  Yet he seemed different now, too. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying William's preoccupation with his looks, the peacock that he was. Why, even that dark brown jacket fitted him to perfection, making him look more powerful than she remembered. And his boots looked as if they were polished only five minutes ago. Of course, he was checking that infernal pocket watch again. The man was preoccupied with order and time, and that was something she could certainly do without. He probably had his entire life timed to the minute. Odious man!

  As if reading her mind, he showed William the timepiece in question. The boy smiled and put it to his ear.

  Victoria frowned, not wanting the man to be so agreeable. Well, he was kind to children. So what? Th
at did not mean she could trust him. He knew about Nightham, and that was a threat to her and her family, something she'd best remember. He was also the son of the duke Phoebe was to marry. He could easily stop the wedding.

  She watched in shock as William ran his hand along the man's clean-shaven face, then jerked his snowy white cravat, almost choking the man to death. Good heavens, William had more nerve than she did. She should have had him with her at the inn!

  When William's feet finally hit the floor, Victoria narrowed her brows in dismay as her cousin began to brush his fingers over the man's jacket, touching the row of shiny brass buttons as if they were the most precious jewels in the world. The pair of pokey little fingers moved down past the slick black breeches, all the way to the man's Hessians.

  But as William continued his inspection, Victoria caught herself mesmerized by the man herself. For a few seconds she let down her guard and gave the man a chance to glance her way. At least she thought the man had cast a quick gaze up the stairs.

  She pulled her head behind the corner and froze. Had he recognized her?

  "So matie, are you a pirate or not?"

  The man let out a hearty laugh at William's question. "After your careful inspection, what would you say I am, little man?"

  Victoria peeked back and saw the man step halfway into the hall. The skin around his eyes crinkled into a soft, endearing smile that wrapped around her heart. She shook her head. What was she thinking? This man could ruin her.

  And he had the audacity to ask her to trust him? She was a fool, but she wasn't stupid!

  "I would say that you are a pirate!" William took his own pirate hat off his head as he started circling the gentlemen. "But a good pirate. Like me."

  "A good pirate, eh?"

  William slapped his hat back onto his bobbing head. "Yes, a good pirate. One that will protect the treasures in this house."

  "Treasures?"

  "Yes, and since you are a good pirate, I will tell you something. I am Pirate William and this is Cap'n Whitie."

  William pulled out his second in command and grinned. "We protect this house and all the princesses in it."

  The man's eyes narrowed as he stared at the white mouse in the boy's hand. "Ah, I see. Espionage at its finest."

  "What?" William asked, his nose scrunching. "Oh, yes, ess ... espionage."

  Victoria bent over in merriment, her gaze dropping to Aunt Phoebe and Sarah as they came into view. The man was not as stuffy as she had once presumed. Still...

  "And here are the princesses, are they not?" The pirate peered down the hall.

  "Yes, princesses," William went on, "but I saw the villain, too. So did Cap'n Whitie." He tugged on the man's coat.

  But the pirate had already straightened from his hunched position, ready to meet the two females coming his way.

  "I said," William piped louder, "I saw the villain! And—" but his words were lost in the formal introductions taking place.

  "Drat!" William stomped his foot, obviously wanting to talk more about his villain.

  Victoria was amazed at the man's gentleness with the boy. Something in her heart gave a little kick. He was polite, had a sense of humor, and was nice to children. He had been a different man the time she had seen him.

  But what would he do if he knew she was the lady at the inn? Did he know already? She shuddered at the memory of those hard gray eyes glaring at her, demanding her cooperation. Would he ruin Phoebe's future?

  Phoebe pulled her son aside. "Now, William, is that any way to talk to the man who is going to be your brother?"

  William jumped with glee. "A pirate for a brother!"

  Victoria sighed against the wall and frowned. Brother. How wonderfully dreadful. The reality of the situation cut into her heart like a guillotine.

  If the duke ever discovered Victoria's past, he would most probably refuse to marry Aunt Phoebe. Her secret would be out, and all would be lost. Frowning, Victoria walked back to her room and plopped on her bed in the throes of defeat. Now she knew how the French felt at Waterloo.

  She claimed a headache when she was asked to receive the visitor and could only stare in dread at the ceiling. Had she ruined her family's chance for happiness because of her impulsive actions? Did the pirate know her identity now? Would Aunt Phoebe end up in debtor's prison after all? No, the duke may not marry Phoebe, but he would not let that happen.

  "Did you see him, Vicki?" William shouted as he opened her door and slammed it shut.

  Victoria lifted her head from her pillow and dropped it again. "Yes, I saw him." And he is going to ruin us all.

  William hopped onto her mattress, jumping up and down. "He's wonderful!"

  "Wonderful," she murmured, scooting off the bed.

  "And did you see the villain, too?"

  Victoria wrung her hands on her skirt and moved toward the window. "The pirate. Yes, I saw him."

  "The most magnificent pirate in the whole world!" Bounce. Bounce. "But I asked if you saw the evil villain."

  "The villain?" she asked without thinking. But she was more interested in the pirate exiting the townhouse and entering his awaiting carriage. There was something about him that stirred her blood, even though he was her enemy.

  She pressed her hand against the window and lowered her gaze in anticipation. He peered up at her. It was so fast that Victoria barely realized what had happened. He had seen her!

  Her body went rigid and she stepped back. She could still feel the heat of his gaze burning a path straight to her toes.

  "What were you saying, William?"

  "I said! Did ... you ... see ... the villain? Are you deaf from a cannonball to your head?" Bounce. Bounce.

  "No, I did not see the villain."

  "Yes, you did. He was in this very house." William stopped his bouncing. "He was. I saw him."

  Victoria narrowed her eyes. Her cousin jumped to the floor and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the window. "There. In the carriage. That evil earl! You know, your cousin! Do you see him or not?" By now the boy was shouting in her ear.

  Victoria peered out the window and recognized the black carriage that clattered down the street. The coat of arms was her father's. Wendover should have left the house an hour ago.

  "The villain's mean, Vicki. Mean as a witch!"

  Victoria tried not to show the terror that crawled along her skin. Before today, it had been a long time since she had seen the earl, and for the life of her, she could not figure out what he wanted. But whatever it was, she had a strange feeling he wanted something from her.

  Drake relaxed in the carriage, his thoughts centered on the mahogany-haired siren who had eluded him for far too long. When he had entered the townhouse, he had smelled roses again, fresh as a spring day. Lady Victoria's scent.

  Fox had mentioned Lady Phoebe's niece and her many attributes. Drake, of course, was curious himself, for more reasons than his friend would ever know. And now, it seemed very probable that Phoebe's Lady Victoria was the woman from the inn.

  The thought of his father being swindled into a heartless marriage based on greed bothered him to no end. Though Lady Phoebe seemed all that was good, the female mind was sly and cunning, as he knew that all too well. He felt as if his hands were tied. Should he tell his father his secrets? But could he fulfill his promise to Nightham if he did?

  Yet, it was only right that his father knew the truth. Tonight at the opera he would plan his attack well.

  Chapter Seven

  Later that evening Victoria stood in the duke's box, gazing down at the multitude of people filling the Opera House. A wave of perfume assaulted her senses while the rumble of voices lifted from the pit and the gallery below her. She leaned back, feeling a bit dizzy, having eaten nothing since breakfast.

  "Lady Victoria," Lord Foxcroft called from beside her, "may I say, you look beautiful tonight, a diamond of the first waters."

  Though a bit flustered by all the attention the viscount was lavishing on her, Victoria admitt
ed to herself that she felt somewhat comforted by his presence, especially with Lord Wendover in attendance. "My lord, you are too generous in your flattery."

  Then, as if it came naturally, Lord Foxcroft took her gloved hand in his and brought it to his lips as he offered her a seat.

  "I cannot tell you how pleased I am that you accepted my invitation. I know you probably would have come as a guest of the duke, but this way, I have you all to myself."

  Pleased? She wondered what would he think when he found out about her scandalous past?

  She bit her bottom lip in despair, again peering over the crowd as if she were truly interested in what was happening in the minutes before the performance. She had never been the same after Nightham's death, and at that precise moment, she felt like a wretched fraud.

  She exchanged a weak smile with Sarah who sat beside Lord James. The man had taken Sarah under his wing like an older brother. She wondered if the eldest brother would be as kind.

  She turned to look at the duke. His intense gaze never left her aunt. He was a man in love, and the passion in his eyes told her he would marry as quickly as possible if Phoebe wanted it. Now, only to get Phoebe to agree to a special license and a swift marriage. The pirate could try to do his worst, but at least Phoebe would be married to her duke.

  She looked over the crowd and shuddered inwardly at her predicament. Time was her enemy now.

  When Drake's carriage rolled to the front of the theater, he snapped his pocket watch closed, climbed out of the vehicle, and moved purposely toward the stairs near his father's box. As he stood behind the curtain, he smiled, relishing the thought of taking Lady Victoria by surprise. What would she do? She certainly could not climb away from him this time.

  He would tell all tonight. His father could not marry into such a family.

  "It looks like we have the great Catalani singing for us tonight," Drake announced to everybody as his shiny gilt-buckled shoes plunged past the threshold of his father's box. His steely gaze found Fox sitting next to his prey.