To Marry A Marquess (A Regency Romance)

by Teresa McCarthy

  Victoria glared at Lord Drakefield. Then pushing her cousin along, she said, "I said it is time for bed, William."

  But Lord Drakefield gently moved in, brushing her aside. He proceeded to haul William to a nearby chair, then onto his lap, sword and all. "Now, tell me about this villain, me pirate."

  "Humph!" William glanced up at Victoria with a winning look in his eyes. "Well." William smiled at the marquess, his expression one of great importance. "The villain always watches us from outside that window."

  William pointed across the room. The marquess stood up and held the boy's hand as they took a look.

  "He waits on the corner, over there." William stabbed the air with his finger. "He watches and waits, dressed all in black. Sometimes he says bad words. Why, I've heard him say words like—"

  "William," Victoria interrupted. "That is quite enough. We have no need to know specific details."

  "Go on, William." Lord Drakefield hid his smile. "Continue without the undignified words."

  William's eyes grew round, obviously enthralled that someone was finally paying attention to him. "The villain wants one or all of the princesses in the house."

  The boy looked back at Victoria, then whispered into the marquess's ear, tugging at his stained cravat. "And I am telling ye, he wants the treasure, too."

  "Ah, he does, does he?" The marquess's eyes sparkled. "Depend upon it, William, I will keep an eye out for the villain myself. But I do believe it's time for bed, me pirate friend."

  With one fluid motion, the marquess threw the boy on top of his shoulders. William whooped with glee.

  Victoria stared, dumbfounded at the man's gentleness with William, and it wasn't the first time he had acted that way either. Drat. She was beginning to like the wretched pirate, and if that didn't go against everything she believed, she didn't know what did. One moment, the man seemed hard and unforgiving, the next moment, he was as soft as pudding.

  And the memory of his kisses made her blush. But while her mind was caught in a whirl of emotions, she almost missed the two pirates moving past the library doors and mounting the stairs toward William's bedchambers.

  Outraged, she ran after them, not able to believe the impertinence of the man. "Put him down at once!"

  "Please, let the pirate put me to bed," William begged, towering above her like some circus act.

  "Yes, pleeeeease," the marquess drawled as he continued his flight up the stairs, sending Victoria a surly smile over his shoulder and leaving her at the bottom of the stairs, fuming.

  "By the way, me pirate friend," Drake said as he tucked William into bed, picking the mouse from his shirt and placing it in a glass bowl on the bed stand, "do you happen to know who this villain is?"

  Drake, now quite amused with William's imagination, had an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach when he felt the boy tremble.

  William's blue eyes widened. He grabbed Drake by the arm. "Lord Wendover. That evil earl. He was here this morning, in this very house."

  Wendover? Drake felt a protective surge of anger. He hadn't liked the way the man had leered at Victoria earlier that evening. The earl looked the part of a villain in every way, from that pretty boy face of his to that hideous black cloak and beady blue eyes. And for some uncanny reason, Drake knew he had seen Wendover before, but he could not quite place the man.

  Descending the stairs, Drake was met by a stern-faced Winston. "My lord, it seems that Lady Victoria has a headache and has asked me to see you out."

  The servant shoved his hat into Drake's hands and he, one of the wealthiest men in the ton, was out in the streets in a matter of seconds.

  A week had passed since Victoria's fateful encounter with Lord Drakefield, and now she found herself entering Percy Hall, the country residence of the Dowager Duchess of Glenshire, the duke's mother and the pirate's grandmother. She shuddered at the thought of her next meeting with Lord Drakefield. The waiting was almost unbearable. She had felt nothing but dread when Aunt Phoebe had accepted the invitation to stay at Percy Hall for an undetermined amount of time.

  As soon as they entered the mansion, they met with the duke's mother. The elderly lady wore a dark blue muslin gown that hung softly against her slender frame. Her gray hair was piled on her head in a neat chignon. She was tiny, Victoria thought, such a contrast to her eldest grandchild. But the color of the eyes could not be missed. Gray and calculating.

  Since the older lady had been ill at the time of the last gala, and Victoria had missed her appearance, Aunt Phoebe made the introductions. While the dowager conversed with Victoria, Sarah and Aunt Phoebe made their way to their bedchambers to freshen up while William scrambled toward the kitchen.

  "Lady Victoria, come sit with me." The dowager duchess tugged on Victoria's hand and led her into a fashionable drawing room painted in soft beige and deep burgundy tones.

  Victoria took a seat on the tawny-colored sofa, resting a hand on one of the circular pillows. A maid entered with a large silver tray, setting it on the rosewood table resting beside the marble fireplace.

  "I hope my presence will not cause you any inconvenience, Your Grace," Victoria said.

  The dowager duchess squeezed her hand. "Not at all, my dear. Not at all. I am so sorry we did not meet sooner. Tea, dear?"

  "Yes, please."

  "Now," the older lady patted her hand on Victoria's knee, "I want you to be as comfortable as possible. There are horses for you to ride. There will be a ball tomorrow to celebrate your aunt and my son's engagement. Oh, and of course, you will have to view my gardens. They are my pride and joy."

  "I would love to see the rest of your estate." Victoria set her teacup down on her saucer, feeling optimistic about her host. "Do you suppose I may take a ride later today?"

  "Certainly, my dear." The tiny lady stood and moved closer to the fire. "But if you are in need of anything," she looked at Victoria, "anything at all, please come to me."

  Victoria sipped her tea. "I will speak to you if I find the need, Your Grace, but I believe I will have everything I want within my grasp. It is so lovely here."

  The dowager smiled at the sound of scampering feet coming from the hall.

  "Ith he here?" A little girl with a mane of raven black hair rushed past Victoria toward the dowager. "Ith he?"

  "Yes, he is." The old lady bent down and scooped the girl onto her lap.

  The child's grin widened. "I will have tho much fun."

  The duchess hugged the girl and gave Victoria a wink. Victoria grinned, guessing that the little girl was talking about William whom she had met before.

  "Lady Margueretta, I want you to meet Lady Victoria."

  "Delighted to meet you, my lady," Victoria said, extending her hand to the girl as she slipped from the duchess's grasp.

  Margueretta giggled and shook her hand, but refused to let go, studying Victoria's face with owl-like eyes. "You are a beautiful printheth. Juth like King William told me."

  Victoria laughed. "Thank you."

  Margueretta raised both her hands to touch the spiral of curls framing Victoria's face.

  The duchess gently pulled the girl's hands away. "Gretta, one does not play with other people's hair."

  Victoria smiled. "It's quite all right. I imagine she's only curious."

  Margueretta studied her. "Do you have any clockth?"

  "Clocks?" Victoria asked.

  The little girl kept fingering Victoria's hair as if Victoria were a doll in the nursery. "Yeth."

  "Her papa collects clocks," the duchess replied. "His life is based on total order."

  Victoria smiled. "Well, I suppose he would not like me."

  Victoria missed the dowager's raised brows. "I take it you do not keep a schedule then?"

  Victoria shook her head, making Margueretta laugh. "Goodness, no. I fear, I'm as impulsive as a child."

  "Splendid!" The older lady clapped her hands.

  "Pardon me?"

  "Oh, nothing." The duchess shrugged and sipped her tea.
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  Margueretta giggled as she threw Victoria's hair over her face. "Yeth, your hair ith long like a horth tail and my Papa liketh them very much." The girl stretched her hands wide to show the extent of her papa's liking.

  The duchess pulled Margueretta away from Victoria. "That means, her papa will adore you, Lady Victoria."

  "People call my papa m'lord."

  Victoria and the grandmother laughed as Margueretta stepped into the hall to leave.

  "But hith friendth call him Drake."

  The name came out as Dwake, and it took Victoria only a second to make the connection.

  "Drake?" Her hands tightened on the pillow beside her. Yes, yes, this was his child. What had she been thinking?

  She peered up at the grandmother who was now staring back at her with twinkling gray eyes that seemed to read her mind.

  An hour later Victoria approached the stables with thoughts of the marquess swirling in her head. She hated to think of their next meeting. So, he had been kind to William. So what? That didn't mean she could trust the man. Even his kisses were probably a trick of some kind. She had to think of a plan, and riding always seemed to help clear her mind.

  Putting on a smile, she picked out a bay gelding in the first stall, hoping that she was probably worrying about nothing. She always thought of a plan, did she not?

  "But m'lady, the ground is too wet." The groom shot her a wary frown. "Too many rabbit holes and what not. It takes an experienced horseman to handle this land after a good rain."

  "Oh, I have ridden horses since I was three years old. I am quite capable, sir."

  The old groom poked his head outside. "Looks like more rain anyway. Ain't ever going to find your way back if you ride into those trees."

  Victoria smiled at his concern. "I will not hold you responsible. What was your name again? Mr. Parks, was it not?"

  "Yes, m'lady." He frowned.

  "Well then, Mr. Parks. I can assure you, my dealings with horses are very knowledgeable." Her hand brushed across the gelding's shining coat.

  "Yes, but—"

  "Mr. Parks." She interrupted him again with a fluttering of her long dark lashes, and when she touched his hand, a slight grin crossed his grumpy face. She was mounted and out of the stables before he could think of another word to stop her.

  Shaking the rain from his hair, Drake hurried into the stables and bit back a smile at the sight of his groom's gloomy expression.

  "'Tis a fierce one out there, m'lord." The groom looked away, tending to another horse. "Ain't a day to go riding."

  Drake came up beside him. "Ah, you sensed the weather all along. Only a confounded fool would go out in something like that."

  The groom hid his wince.

  Taking a few long strides about the stable, Drake furrowed his brow. "Parks, where the devil is my bay?"

  Parks nervously slipped a hand through his sparse hair. "I told her it was a bad idea to go out there in this weather, your lordship, but she ain't one to listen. No, she ain't one to listen at all. She does what she wants, that one. Impulsive."

  "Her? You told her?"

  Drake clenched his teeth in frustration. Was the man talking to horses or people? Because the only females Drake could think of were his grandmother, who rode now and then, and Margueretta, who only rode with him.

  "My grandmother is out there, you fool?"

  The groom shook his head. "No, no, no, m'lord! The lady insisted on riding. She assured me she had experience. I ain't one to argue with the ladies, you know."

  Drake was furious. "She assured you? Tell me, man, who was mad enough to ride in this? And on my horse?"

  "I ain't knowing her name, m'lord. But I know she is a lady staying with the duchess for a spell. Niece of Lady Phoebe, I believe. Beautiful mane of hair, m'lord. The color of..."

  The groom had a glazed look over his eyes that brought Drake's blood to an angry boil.

  "Mahogany!" Drake roared.

  The horses began to kick and snort.

  "Yes. Quite right, m'lord." A silly smile continued to blanket the groom's face as he catered to the animals. "I ain't never thought of it like that. Her eyes seem to cast a spell on me, m'lord. And her small fingers, well, when they touched my hand, I could only—"

  "Parks!"

  The groom's eyes almost popped out of his head at the booming sound of the Drake's voice. "Yes, m'lord?"

  "No one is to ever ride that bay unless I give my permission. Do you understand?"

  Parks nodded, shakily.

  In minutes, Drake was mounted on the chestnut. He cursed as the rain fell to a steady drizzle. But another storm began as the thunder of horse's hooves pounded the wet grounds of Percy Hall.

  Though the rain had stopped, Victoria could not go anywhere unless her horse decided to cooperate. She decided it was part mule. She was cold, drenched to the bone, and sadly regretting taking the horse in the first place. She had found shelter beneath a clump of oak trees, and it was all she could do to hold on to the beast beneath her. She was about to dismount the stubborn animal when she caught a glimpse of a rider coming into view.

  She waved her arm high in the air to capture his attention. As the rider neared, Victoria noticed it was the enormous chestnut that she had seen in the stables. Relief washed through her. The groom had come to save her after all. The silly old man.

  But her relief was short lived when a crop of black hair met her eyes. Good heavens, it was Lord Drakefield! And he looked every bit the pirate. Well! He had been so agreeable the other day, this was a change indeed.

  Instinctively, she pulled the reins of the bay to move in the opposite direction. To her surprise, the animal obeyed.

  A chilling wind nipped at her cheeks as she bolted from the trees into the clearing. Without warning, the horse exploded into a fierce gallop, and at that very moment, the clouds burst forth with a heavy rain.

  She could hear Lord Drakefield shouting. In fact, she could almost feel the icy glare of his steel gray eyes probing into her back. Hooves thundering beneath her, she stole a quick glance over her shoulder. Rain splattered her face, but she could see him speeding toward her. His black hair whipped in the wind as his chestnut bolted over a large rock.

  "Victoria! Pull back! Stop!"

  Stop? She cringed as she turned her face back into the stinging rain. It was next to impossible now.

  She tightened her grip on the reins, but failed to see the huge boulder in front of her. At that moment, the beast reared back, spitting her into the air. It happened so quickly, she barely realized what was happening until she slammed into the ground. Pain shot through her body like an anvil against her chest.

  Drake was only four lengths behind Victoria when he saw her lifted into the air and thrown to the ground like a rag doll. Oblivious to the sounds of the rain coming to a slow drizzle or of the thundering hooves hitting the ground, he heard only the blood-curdling scream he would never forget. And he would always remember the thud, the eerie stillness of the wind, and her sprawling form lying motionless in a pool of mud.

  Chapter Nine

  The stench of the wet grass drifted past Drake's nose as he knelt beside Victoria's limp body. He pushed back her muddy hair and checked her pulse. She was alive. No broken bones that he could tell. Grimacing, he scooped her body into his arms and whistled to his chestnut. The animal trotted toward the boulder. The gelding would have to wait.

  "I am quite fine, my lord."

  Pale aqua eyes stared back at him. Her hands pressed against his chest, and his pulse leapt as he tried to suppress his reaction. He wanted to throttle her and kiss her at the same time. But he knew she was hiding her pain well. He lifted a brow and glared at her.

  "Fine? You could have been killed."

  She raised her chin in indignation, but the vulnerability in her expression tugged at his heart. The little fool! Didn't she know the dangers of riding that horse in this kind of weather?

  He drew his cloak over her damp clothes and scowled. She pla
gued him more than Honoria ever had. But he sensed a gentleness of spirit in her that Honoria never had, and along with her vulnerability, those two qualities drew him to her like a child to sweets. Had Nightham seen the goodness in this woman, too? Had he held her close? Had he kissed her?

  The questions barely crossed his mind before other ones followed. More intimate ones. More dangerous ones. Drake told himself that he didn't care. But he did. Confound it. He cared too much.

  "I daresay, I have survived much worse, my lord."

  "Have you now?" His voice was harsher than he intended.

  The color rose to her face as she tried to sit up.

  Drake pulled her into his arms and instantly felt a surge of anger at Nightham. Had the man taken advantage of her? Or worse, had she loved his friend? Did she still love him?

  He peered down at her and touched the soft tendrils of mahogany hair that had fallen across her cheek. She glanced back at him with questioning eyes, and in that instant, Drake wanted to wash any memory of Nightham from her mind. He leaned down and touched his lips to hers.

  The innocence of her reaction was more intimate than anything he had ever felt before. Passion pounded through his body, and he checked himself and pulled back.

  Devil take it! The woman had him twisted about her curls like a besotted school boy.

  He flashed her a roguish smile. "I could not help myself. I do deserve something for coming to your rescue."

  Her eyes sparkled with indignation. "I would not have needed rescuing if you had not followed me."

  Fury made him speak the words that had been gnawing at his soul. "You loved Lord Nightham then?"

  Her face paled. He might as well have slapped her. "Lord Nightham is dead," she whispered and looked away.

  "Is he?" Drake snapped back, instantly ashamed at his words.

  Tears filled her eyes, and Drake fought the jealousy invading his soul. "We'll take the chestnut back to Percy Hall."

  Without another word, he swept her onto his horse and mounted behind her. The ride back to the stables became most uncomfortable indeed.

  The following evening Victoria changed into her gown with the help of a maid. Her legs were still sore from the day before and so was her heart. But she was determined to face her fears. She would attend the ball downstairs whether the marquess was there or not. She had felt too safe in his arms and that had vexed her to no end. His gentleness as he held her after the fall from the horse would not leave her mind.