To Marry A Marquess (A Regency Romance)

by Teresa McCarthy

  Drake saw his father's ploy for what it was—a move to protect his lady from any discomfort at all. It was that same sense of protectiveness that Drake felt for Victoria. Try as he might, Drake's thoughts had never been far from Victoria or her flight with Nightham.

  "Dispose of it," she snapped, jerking her finger toward the bed.

  William, he thought, trying to avert his gaze from her lovely silhouette presented against the sliver of moonlight peeking into the room. No doubt the boy had planted something in Victoria's bed. After Victoria had departed the ball, Drake asked Sarah to dance, and she had given him a compact, but decidedly accurate report about William's mischievous tricks during the sleeping hours.

  "D-dispose of what?" he asked, clearing his throat.

  Her hand shot toward the end of her bed. "That! There! That thing!"

  Drake strode forward. His mouth went dry at the sight of her wondrous hair flowing about her barely dressed shoulders.

  There was a large croak, and he snapped his gaze away from her enchanting form toward the bed. She jumped to the floor, clutching his arm. The sweet scent of roses reached his nostrils, and he wanted to swing her into his arms and devour her right there.

  Gritting his teeth, he whipped the coverlet from her bed and released the slippery beast from its tight confines.

  "William?" he asked, hiding the laughter in his eyes as he held the gigantic frog in his hands.

  "Who else?" she said, still holding his arm.

  "Did you call?" Their heads jerked in unison as the small boy emerged from the hall and entered the room. He stood silently, watching their cozy embrace.

  "Victoria?" The dowager duchess appeared, her tiny silhouette set inside the door's frame, her nightdress buttoned up to her chin as thick wavy gray hair fell about her shoulders.

  "And Jonathan?" Her gray brows lifted as the candle moved toward him. "What in the world are you doing in here?"

  Drake groaned and pushed Victoria aside. He could barely see his grandmother's face in the shadows dancing about by the candlelight, but her dictating manner announced her disapproval. He opened his mouth to speak but could not find the words. It was indeed a compromising situation, and blast it, she was calling him Jonathan again.

  "I know why," William burst out. "He was protecting Vicki from the villain!"

  Drake's mouth twisted. "Hmmm, yes. I was saving her from a frog. She was a damsel in distress, and I came to her rescue."

  "This is scandalous." His grandmother's gaze shot to Victoria.

  Victoria frowned and clutched one of the linens off the bed for cover. "It was all so innocent. It croaked, you see..."

  William shrugged his shoulders. "Botheration, why does everyone make such a fuss about this all the time? It was only a little frog." He reached under the bed to collect another croaking possession, and it was all Drake could do to keep from laughing.

  "Jonathan," the dowager demanded. "Why are you standing there half naked with that smirk on your face? This is a lady's bedchambers and the middle of the night. If your father ever found out about this, he would demand satisfaction, and you, sir, would be at the altar in no time."

  Drake's jaw tightened. "The altar?"

  His gaze tilted in Victoria's direction, feeling the treachery of his first wife coming back to haunt him. Had she planned this? "I never thought of that possibility. Did you, Lady Victoria?"

  Victoria's eyes grew wide at his insinuation. "Of course not. I am quite certain this little episode will be forgotten by tomorrow." She took a quick step back, away from the light of the dowager's candle.

  Drake grimaced. He was not about to be forced. No, indeed!

  "Jonathan, did you hear me?" His grandmother took a step toward him. "Out! Now!" Her stiff forefinger pointed the way.

  Biting back an oath, he stomped out of the room.

  Wordlessly, Victoria slid beneath her covers. William's feet slapped across the wood as he approached the door. "So, one of them was a big frog! So what!"

  "So what indeed," the dowager replied tartly. "Come on, William. Out with you now."

  He let out a giggle as the dowager patted his back and followed him, pulling the door closed behind her.

  Victoria cringed. If her aunt received news of this, she might insist on a quick marriage. It was all so insane.

  Victoria recalled the marquess's cool response at the very notion of a union with her. Evidently, it was a detestable thought. Her heart sank. Did he believe that she was replacing Nightham with him?

  The following morning at breakfast, Margueretta looked over the table and stuffed some bread into her mouth. "Where ith Papa?"

  The duchess pulled the large amount of food from Margueretta's hand. "Your papa has taken a ride to Grandfather's house."

  Victoria felt a blush creep up her neck. She sipped her coffee, peering over her cup at William.

  "Why are you looking at me like that for, Vicki?" He wiped his milk mustache with the back of his hand. "It was only a stupid frog, and I won't do it again. I won't. Truly." His lips twisted into an amusing grin.

  "Won't what?" Phoebe asked.

  William exchanged a nervous glance with Victoria. Victoria had enough of his foolish pranks. She turned to the duchess.

  "Your Grace, do you think we might try something different for dinner?"

  "Something different?"

  Victoria began to tap her fork gently against her plate. "Yes, well, I believe I would like to try one of Napoleon's favorites."

  "And what is that, my dear?"

  "Why, frog legs, of course."

  William spurted his milk onto the table.

  "Yes, I do believe the fattest frogs do best," the dowager said with a sparkle in her eyes.

  "Frog legth?" Margueretta snorted in disgust. "Not me!"

  Phoebe eyed her son. "Sounds very interesting, but I believe it would be a tall order. I wonder if Bonaparte had them on the battlefield."

  Victoria locked eyes with her little cousin. "We are not on a battlefield, but I believe we have all the necessary ingredients available right here."

  William jumped from his chair. "I will die first!" He bolted from the breakfast room and flew up the stairs. "You will not have them," he cried from the landing. "And neither will Old Boney!"

  Later that morning, dressed in a light blue riding habit, Victoria stood in the stables arguing with the groom. Her bruises from her fall had diminished considerably, but it seemed this man was not about to let her ride.

  "You jest, sir. I am a guest of Her Grace, and I have it from her that I may ride any time I choose."

  She may be a bit sore, but she was feeling much better and she needed to clear her mind. Anything to keep her distance from the marquess. Today she had worn her split riding skirt that she had specially made a year ago for riding astride when they had visited their cottage in Yorkshire.

  "Sorry, m'lady, but my orders are not to let you ride."

  Parks turned his back to her and continued to brush the horse beside him. The mare behind him was already saddled. It seemed the groom was obviously ready to take the animal for a ride when Victoria had stepped into the stables.

  "I see. When may I ride then?" she asked.

  She met the groom's eyes as he looked over his shoulder. He seemed to shrink back a foot as she continued to glare at him.

  Ah, so glaring at him did the trick, did it? "I insist on riding and will not leave here until I do. I may be a bit sore after my fall, but believe me, that was a rare occurrence indeed."

  Guilt gnawed at her conscience when she saw the frown on the older man's face. He gulped and wiped the sweat from his forehead. A horse snorted loudly in one of the nearby stalls.

  Well, goodness, it's not as if she had bitten the man.

  "Please, you have no need to worry about your position with the duchess." Her voice softened. "I won't tell a soul about my little ride, and if by chance, someone finds out," she tapped her riding crop against her skirt, "I will insist that it was all
my doing."

  She took a step toward him, and the man's eyes widened with something akin to fear. "Oh, please. You take too much upon yourself, sir."

  The man flinched as her hand grazed his elbow.

  "Parks!"

  Victoria turned with a jerk.

  "Do not let those turquoise jewels deceive you again," the marquess replied curtly. "You have my orders."

  "Yes, my lord."

  Lord Drakefield was leaning against the stables, his arms folded firmly about his chest, one foot butted up against the hinge of the door. His gray eyes darkened. "You may leave now, Parks."

  Within seconds, the groom hopped over one of Drake's boots and dashed outside, leaving Victoria to fight it out alone. The smell of hay suddenly made her cough. She met the marquess's stern gaze and clutched her riding crop tighter. A warm wind whooshed past the doors, blowing a strand of mahogany hair across her cheek. She tucked her hair back into her riding habit and struggled to gain some kind of composure.

  The man looked positively dangerous this morning.

  He was dressed in a neat brown jacket and buckskin breeches. But he looked more the pirate than ever with his coal black hair tied back in that ridiculous queue and his gray eyes boring into her as if she were some child playing with his treasures.

  Jutting her chin forward, she turned her back to him and heard the crunching of footsteps in the straw behind her. Scents of horses and leather mingled in the air as she pulled herself astride the saddled mare with the help of a nearby mounting block.

  It was a bold move, and her insides shook like jelly.

  Lord Drakefield stood there, hands planted on narrow hips, his face anything but amused. "What the devil do you think you are doing?"

  She glanced down at him. "Is it not obvious, my lord?"

  He took another step toward her, his lips thinning in displeasure. Her gaze slid to the open doors. She felt a single drop of sweat trickle down one of her temples.

  "The mare you are mounted on is tame, but it is not likely to stand still for long with a body on it." His tone sounded calm, but she knew better.

  She was barely able to hold back a gasp of surprise when he whipped his hands around her waist, yanked her off the horse, and let her fall against his chest.

  "Now, if you would like to go riding"—with a slight quirk of his lips, he lifted her back on the horse and led the animal out of the stables—"you may. But do remember that I am the one who gave you permission to have your morning ride. You have exactly a half hour without a groom, and if you are not back by then, I will send the hounds out after you."

  Victoria dropped her jaw in shock as he patted the horse on its way.

  Drake slapped his riding gloves against his breeches as he watched Victoria ride over the hill. She was a pauper, and though the similarities to his wife stopped there, he would do best to remember the lady's faults. She was stubborn and impulsive and had placed him in a compromising position. He would not be forced to marry her or any other woman.

  It might be best to reconsider his position and marry rich like he had planned in the first place. But plans were much easier to deal with when Lady Victoria was not around.

  He gritted his teeth and started back for the house, but not before he instructed one of the grooms that if Lady Victoria did not return within an hour, Drake was to be informed immediately.

  By the time Victoria saw the rider approaching, it was too late to start back to the stables. The lush field had looked so inviting, she had decided to walk. She had already dismounted and was pulling the reins of her horse behind her.

  "Good morning, Lady Victoria. Riding alone, I see. No groom at your side?" Wendover's irritating voice made Victoria ill as the man set his horse alongside hers and slid off his saddle.

  It was all she could do to be civil and not mount her mare, dig her heels into its side, and make a grand exit. She tightened her hold on the reins, wanting to leave his presence with the utmost haste. The look on the earl's face had always disturbed her, but now, it was his nearness that caused her stomach to clench.

  "Good morning, Lord Wendover. I had no idea you would be riding today."

  "My dear. No need to be formal. I'm staying as a guest of the duke. The ball was such a festive occasion. I was overwhelmed that your aunt thought to include me in the celebration." He closed the distance between them, and before she knew what was happening, his arm shot out and grabbed her.

  Her head whipped back at the sudden jerk. "Let me go!"

  "Not yet, my dear. Not until we have a little talk about that shabby little inn that you went to with Nightham."

  She gasped in shock. He knew!

  Beady blue eyes regarded her with contempt. "No reason to be upset. I know everything. Speechless, are you? Indeed, I know about your little journey with Lord Nightham, our dear, departed friend."

  Victoria recoiled. "How do you know?" Her horse snorted, as if sensing her discomfort.

  He laughed like a madman. "Oh, come now. Let us come to an understanding."

  His grip on her tightened, and she suddenly felt extremely cold. "W-what do you want?"

  "Want? There is only one thing I want, and I believe you know the answer to that?"

  She stared at him, clearly baffled. "No, I am afraid I don't."

  "I want you."

  "Me?" He was insane!

  "Precisely, my dear. In spite of your horrendous escapade, there will be a marriage between you and me."

  She tried to jerk from his embrace, but it was impossible. His fingers dug into her arm like a vise. "Marriage? You must be mad. I would never marry you."

  "You will, because if you do not, I will let everyone know about Nightham. That will cause a scandal and cause your poor Aunt Phoebe to be shunned from the ton."

  His eyes glazed over in a sinister smile. "I daresay, she will not marry her beloved duke then. Or, shall we say old dukie would never marry her. She would be finished. And, my dear, you would not want to spoil her entire life, would you?" He leaned toward her, his sour breath scraping against her face.

  Anger swelled inside her. "You would not dare!"

  "Dare to kiss you or dare to spoil your aunt's upcoming nuptials? Ha. I dare anything. But if that does not move you, perhaps this pretty piece of information will."

  He cupped her chin with a crushing hand. She winced at his hold. Then his hand slid toward her throat. He squeezed her neck until she struggled for breath. "Remember Nightham?"

  She nodded mutely, her heart pounding with fear.

  "I killed him," he whispered with a slight chuckle.

  His horse whinnied beside him as his hand squeezed harder on her throat. "And believe me, I will kill that little cousin of yours as well if you do not do exactly what I say. Do you understand me, Victoria?"

  She fought for breath as his hand released her.

  "And have a care to keep your mouth shut about this entire encounter. If you say one word to that marquess of yours, I shall slit his throat, too. I will come for you in the middle of the night. Be ready. When the clock strikes two, I will be waiting in the stables. It should be easy to tell the time with all those idiotic clocks of Drakefield's ticking about the place. There will be no excuse for you to be late."

  He laughed again. "Remember, William goes the same way Nightham did if you say one word of this encounter to anyone."

  Tears burned the back of Victoria's eyes as the sound of hoof-beats roared in her ears. She shook uncontrollably as she watched the black cloak ride off in the direction of the duke's home.

  A second later, she turned toward the grass and retched until there was nothing left in her stomach.

  Chapter Eleven

  "I take it you found Victoria?"

  Drake gave a curt glance in the direction of his grandmother, dropped his gaze, and threw his riding gloves onto the hall table. "Let us say, she ran into me."

  "Come and have tea with me," the lady commanded. "I wish to speak to you."

  "And what woul
d you like to speak to me about?"

  "Jonathan, do not use that tone with me."

  Drake wanted to roll his eyes. "It is my life, Grandmama. Please, do not interfere. Pray, you will excuse me." He gave her a quick bow and climbed the stairs, surprised that she didn't call him back.

  A minute later, the dowager duchess stalked into the drawing room, her hands waving in the air. "I daresay, I do believe that boy is more stubborn than me. What did I tell you?"

  Her son, the duke, rose from the sofa. "What did you tell me, Mother?"

  "Jonathan is in love, George. Any nitwit could see that."

  The duke's eyes narrowed. "Are we speaking about my eldest?"

  "Of course! Who else?"

  "James, Sarah, William, Margueretta ..."

  "This is not funny, George. I said Jonathan, and he is simply beside himself. Is it not obvious that he is enamored with Lady Victoria? Yet that rapscallion cannot see through that thick head of his. All he thinks about is how Honoria deceived him."

  "Come now, Lady Victoria is not at all like Honoria. You are beside yourself, Mother. Please sit down and have your tea."

  "I know she is not like Honoria. But if I told you what I knew, you would be beside yourself as well."

  The duke lifted a questioning brow as his mother took a seat beside him and took her drink. "Oh, never mind," she said.

  "Mother, if you are hiding something, come out with it. I have a right to know."

  "Well," she said, frowning, "since it seems you are demanding to know the facts, I cannot very well lie to you now, can I?"

  She immediately recounted Drake's story about Nightham and Victoria at the inn, as he had told it to James and Fox. She, of course, told the duke that she could not help but hear every word that was uttered that night.

  The duke was surprised, but not overly worried. Money could hush many things these days.

  However, when she continued to offer details of his son's infatuation with Victoria, especially and most importantly the part about Drake being in the lady's bedchambers, half-dressed in the middle of the night, the duke's face began to redden considerably.