To Marry A Marquess (A Regency Romance)

by Teresa McCarthy

  She sighed and wiped a gloved hand across the dusty end table, wondering how the countess had taken her son's death.

  Victoria had sent the lady a missive as soon as she had discovered the facts about Nightham and her inheritance. She had conveyed the entire episode to the countess, including her possible marriage with Charles, hoping the lady could forgive her. It was a risky undertaking, but she had felt at a complete loss after Drake had deceived her. She needed a place to hide.

  "My dear, my dear."

  Victoria stood as Lady Nightham walked into the room. She was a slender woman, with a dainty nose and a creamy complexion. Victoria, expecting a much older, more portly woman, realized that the countess had probably been the toast of the ton in her day. It was that blond hair, much like her son's, that made the countess appear almost angelic, even dressed in a black mourning gown.

  The lady took Victoria's hands in hers, and there were tears in her eyes. "I received your letter, my dear, and am so sorry you were embroiled in one of my son's harebrained plots. He was a good boy, you know, but sometimes Charles would get himself in the worst scrapes. Always such a secretive child.

  "I insist you stay with me until we have everything sorted out, my dear. I am certain if Charles had a special license, you were indeed married to him. However, I will have my own solicitor look into the matter, inconspicuously, of course. Whatever you wish, my dear."

  Victoria fell into easy conversation with the lady and discovered that no provisions other than a small amount of money had been made for the frail lady after her son's death.

  After a few minutes, tea and lemon squares were brought for refreshments. Victoria sat on the sofa, still apprehensive about staying, but she knew it was her only course of action.

  "I do appreciate your generous offer, letting me stay with you while my aunt is still in the country," Victoria went on. "And though there still is the question of my marriage, I beg your forgiveness for the entire episode. If it were not for me—

  "My dear," the lady interrupted, trying to set her mind at ease. "It was not your fault. Not at all. Though Charles was a selfish boy, I always loved him. And if you were truly married to him, then we will get along famously. I admit his death came as quite a shock to me. But the arrival of your letter picked up my spirits, because you see," she sniffed, "I find that I am no longer to be alone in this world."

  Victoria felt the beginning of tears pricking her lids. "I'm overwhelmed with your kindness. But I must ask you not to say a word of my visit to anyone. At least for a few days."

  The lady raised a curious brow. "You are in hiding then?"

  Victoria placed her teacup on the sidetable. "Until I know whether I was married to your son, I find my life at a standstill. I need to consider my situation, without the influences of people I love telling me what to do. I know this may sound silly to you, but I beg you to allow me this time. I have told no one but my cousin of my, um, situation with Charles."

  "Well, naturally, you can stay here, my dear. I can promise you my strictest confidence. There certainly is no need for you to leave. Though, I was hoping of having a few guests in honor of my daughter-in-law, which I truly believe you are, but it is a little too soon after my son's death to entertain. A year, you know." She sniffed and patted Victoria's hand. "I am so alone, but am terribly grateful you have come into my life."

  A heaviness centered in Victoria's chest. She had made a terrible mistake going away with Nightham. If it were not for her, the man would be alive today, and this poor woman would still have her son, though a gambler he may be.

  Victoria could only hope the countess would keep her word and not mention that she was staying here. She could not have her family know where she was, because she had no idea what the future would bring, especially in the form of Lord Wendover. But she knew it was only a matter of time before the marquess would find her. By then, she hoped to discover whether or not she had been married.

  She felt somewhat relieved to know the countess would be discreetly looking into the matter with her solicitors. And Wendover could not blackmail her while she was gone. He would not dare do anything to William because she was his only hope.

  After she figured out if she were married to Nightham, she would make her dealings with Wendover known to her aunt. Perhaps the duke could help her then. For it seemed the man was in love with Phoebe and nothing would deter him from breaking off their engagement, not even Victoria’s scandalous past.

  She certainly could not tell Drake. There was no telling what he would do behind her back. She ached for his help, but she also knew she could not completely trust him. She did love him. She knew that now. But trust was another matter entirely.

  "I will help you anyway I can, my dear," the countess said, dabbing her eyes. "I will send word to my solicitor posthaste. Now, I'm certain you are tired. Booster will show you to your chambers."

  She waved her hand over the drawing room. "As you can see by my humble surroundings, my servants are few and far between. I have no maid to serve you. There is my housekeeper and my cook, and of course, Booster, but that is all. Nevertheless, if you need anything, anything at all, they would be only too happy to help."

  The lady crumpled the handkerchief in her hand. "I can see we are going to get along famously, my dear. Thank you so much for telling me the truth. You cannot believe what a comfort you have been already."

  Tears tightened Victoria's throat. She knew she had done the right thing in coming. "And I thank you for your understanding, Lady Nightham. Your generosity is overwhelming."

  "Think nothing of it, my dear." She gave Victoria a tremulous smile. "Or should I say, daughter?"

  Drake slammed his hand on top of his solicitor's desk. "Where the devil could she have gone?"

  Wilkins adjusted his cravat. "She did have a good sum to spend, my lord."

  "The lady has eighty thousand pounds at her disposal," James said with exasperation. "She could have gone anywhere."

  Anywhere, Drake thought. She was a little magician in that department.

  James and Fox had followed him to London. All three men had been there for one full week with no clue as to Victoria’s whereabouts. Back at Percy Hall, Drake had trouble controlling his anger at the groom when the story came out that Parks had known of Victoria's departure in the dowager's carriage. He would have shaken the poor man to death if not for his brother and Fox who had come to the man's rescue, pulling him from Parks in the nick of time.

  "She could have gone anywhere," Fox piped in. "By Jove, even to the Continent."

  Drake shot his friend an icy glare. "I will find her, and when I do, heaven help her or anyone else who helped her hide."

  "I do have another suggestion, my lord," Wilkins offered. The three gentlemen turned with a jerk. "Lady Victoria's solicitor may be of some help. I have recently discovered who is in charge of her trust."

  "Her solicitor?" Drake said, trying desperately to hold his temper.

  "The name is Washington," Wilkins replied. "Washington and Sons, to be precise. Located a block from Hyde Park."

  Drake repeated the name, snapping out his watch and replacing it with an irritated thrust.

  Wilkins sank back into his chair. "As to the other matter, I have not been able to locate Wendover. The man has disappeared as well. He's in quite more debt than even you expected. I believe he wanted Lady Victoria's inheritance to cover his losses."

  Drake's lips thinned as his mind raced with thoughts of Wendover intercepting Victoria. If the man had taken Victoria, he would kill him.

  After leaving Wilkins, Drake directed his coachman to drive to the office of Washington and Sons. James and Fox had returned to the duke's London townhouse to inform Drake's father of the new information. Even Phoebe had removed to London, too horrified at Victoria's disappearance to even think of marriage to the duke—a situation that did not please the duke at all.

  Drake pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingertips. Now, he had some concrete reaso
ns for why Victoria had left. But the threat of Wendover alone should not have made her flee. Why could she not trust him? Because he had gone behind her back, that's why. Even Nightham's treachery had affected her. Her father had failed her. Her uncle had failed her. Why should she trust any man at all?

  The carriage finally pulled in front of a small, red brick building housing the office of Washington and Sons.

  Drake strode past the front door, his expression grim.

  "May I help you?" A stylish man in a dark brown waistcoat spoke from behind a grand mahogany desk.

  "Mr. Washington?"

  The man stood up, extending his hand. "At your service."

  Drake made his introductions and squeezed the man's hand hard enough that he received all the information he needed. Drake easily discovered Victoria’s location. Relief coursed through him. He felt as if a steel weight had been lifted from his chest as he hopped into his waiting carriage.

  It was lucky he'd made the trip to Washington's office. He had swiftly put a stop to any of her money departing from the credit she had with the bank. Once he told Washington that he was Victoria's fiancé and would give the final word on where the money went, the solicitor warily agreed.

  Drake assured himself that he had not really threatened the man, he had just exercised his voice of authority. A very loud voice of authority.

  It seemed that Nightham's mother, working through her own solicitor, had been taking large sums of money from Victoria's account. Victoria, the little fool, had given the lady full access to her trust fund via Washington and Sons. Ten thousand pounds had already been deducted from her credit.

  Drake checked his timepiece, then stuffed it back into his pocket. Of all the places, he never once thought to look for her at Nightham Manor. What a fool he had been.

  Nevertheless, he would have Victoria in his hands by sunup tomorrow.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The warm rays of the morning sunrise poured through Victoria's window waking her from a deep slumber. The sun seemed excessively bright as she pulled the pillow over her head. She didn't want to rise this early. There was no need. Life in the countess's house had proved to be quite dull.

  But despite the monotonous existence, there was no other way she could think of to avoid Wendover, at least, not until she was sure of her marriage one way or another. She was still awaiting the news from Lady Nightham's solicitor regarding her situation with Charles. When Victoria learned the facts, she could then make a decision on what to do.

  But the horrid thought of William dying like Nightham had made her sick to her stomach. And there was also Drake's life, too. She assured herself she had done the right thing. Staying here had bought her some time.

  "Victoria?"

  She shook her head and squeezed the pillow tighter around her ears. She must be dreaming. It sounded like Lord Drakefield speaking to her.

  "Victoria."

  Her name was voiced with such authority, she turned sharply and her eyes flew open in dread. Good heavens, it was him.

  "W-what are you doing here?"

  He hovered over her as if it were the inn all over again. He wore a neat blue jacket with buckskin breeches hugging his powerful legs. His ebony hair gleamed in the sunlight while eyes the color of dark rain clouds glared into hers. The strange thing was, she was glad to see him.

  His reaction was swift as he wrapped a powerful hand about her bare ankle and pulled her toward the edge of the bed. "It seems to me that I ought to be the one asking the questions, madam."

  She was shocked by the heat of his touch, and she swallowed past the lump in her throat as she tried to devise an acceptable explanation. Her mind went blank. Her cheeks warmed under his fiery gaze.

  He let go of her ankle and leaned over her. He smelled of coffee and bayberry soap. "I am waiting for an explanation."

  Her answer was the fleeting thud of her heart against her breast. She wanted to tell him she loved him, that she wanted to trust him.

  But something inside her rebelled when he spoke to her as if she were a five-year-old child. "If you do not start explaining yourself, madam, I believe I will take you over my knee right here."

  She gasped in outrage, pulling the covers over herself. "You would not dare?"

  A surly smile tilted the corners of his mouth, and she felt herself color.

  "You have vexed me to no end, madam. If you are not willing to speak to me, then I will explain a few things to you."

  She flinched when his hand sliced through the air. There was an edge to his voice that she had never heard before. But it was that odious pocket watch that vexed her to no end. Why was he snapping it out now?

  "First of all, fill your mind with this little fact. Your little pirate did not stop weeping for hours after we found that note of yours. He thought he failed to protect you."

  Her stomach churned with remorse. "I can explain—"

  "Second of all," he continued with a harsh set to his lips. "Sarah refused to eat until you returned. It was Mrs. Dorling who finally forced her."

  Heat singed Victoria's face.

  "And on top of that, your Aunt Phoebe swooned every time she reread your letter. She refuses to marry my father until you are found. Needless to say, the duke has an army out searching for you. Trying to keep the gossip down has cost him a fortune."

  "I had no idea." Guilt stabbed her heart. She hadn't meant to cause such misery. Just tell me you love me. Please.

  "You had no idea?" he growled. "Confound it, woman. Do you always do what you want, when you want?"

  "Please stop shouting. Everyone will hear you. This is most improper, you being in my bedchambers."

  His gray eyes darkened to black. "You have the insolence to tell me that I ought not to be here? You being here is improper! Did you ever stop to think how I would feel? Or how people would look at me after you fled Percy Hall?"

  She blinked and felt a piece of her heart die. He was worried how he would look? How obvious could it be? He did not love her. It was his pride that was hurt.

  What had she been thinking?

  She looked away, a suffocating sensation tightening about her chest. His kisses meant nothing at all. Oh, she realized now that she had hurt her family, but William’s life had been at stake.

  She stiffened as he continued to scowl at her.

  She glared back at him with a decided coolness. "How did you gain entrance into my chambers?"

  He let out a wicked smile. "I climbed the tree outside your window."

  "You climbed in here?"

  "I do know how to climb trees, too."

  "Why don't you climb right back down then?" she said, boldly lifting her chin.

  Without warning, he grabbed her shoulders and whipped her off the bed. "If you act like a child, madam, you will be treated like one."

  "How dare you?"

  "I dare that and more." He pulled out that infernal pocket watch again and looked up. "I will allow you all of fifteen minutes to make yourself presentable and give your farewells to your host. You may send for your things later."

  He snapped the watch closed and stuffed it back into his pocket. "Starting now."

  "I cannot leave…You don't understand."

  "I understand completely. You can and you will."

  Victoria pressed her lips together, knowing that he would make good on his threat. She had no choice but to comply. "Very well."

  "I will be waiting for you outside in the carriage. Remember fifteen minutes or else."

  His dark gaze bore into her with calculated precision. She swallowed tightly. The next moment, she watched, dumbfounded, as he made a swift retreat out the window.

  Drake took a seat in his carriage, staring at his pocket watch. "Ten more seconds," he repeated to himself. "Then so help me, I will plow past that door and—"

  His head jerked up as Victoria came bounding out of the townhouse, one hand clasping her bonnet, the other hand holding her shawl about her breasts.

  A wide-ey
ed countess stared from the townhouse window as the carriage door opened and Drake jerked Victoria inside.

  The vehicle clamored down the otherwise quiet street for a few taut seconds before Victoria spoke. "I simply cannot believe you treated me like that. A gentleman would—"

  Drake gritted his teeth. "At this point, if you are wise, you would not call me a gentleman or anything else."

  The thinly veiled warning in his voice caused a blush to sweep across her cheeks. But she was not about to be bullied. Besides, he was only doing this for his pride. "If you could have seen that lady's face when I departed. She is devastated I am leaving. I am her only hope."

  "Lady?" Drake's chest began to rumble with mocking laughter. "I take it you had knowledge that your so-called lady was using your inheritance to her heart's desire?"

  "Of course." Victoria smoothed her skirt with her hand. "After all, what happened to her son was partly my fault." Her hands trembled at the thought of Wendover killing Nightham. She wanted to tell the marquess the facts, but the odious man was being so pompous, she couldn’t. "I thought it only right—"

  Drake broke in. "That lady snatched close to ten thousand pounds from your precious little account! She bought a pretty little cottage in the country. Not a castle mind you, but a pleasant little place to do her business. If I had left you there another week, she would have robbed your pockets blind. You would have no credit in your account at all. May I remind you, the trust is not settled as of yet. The bank is only lending you the money until everything comes through."

  Victoria clutched her shawl. "Lord Nightham left his mother virtually nothing. Since he was killed, she has no one to look after her."

  "She is not your responsibility," he snapped, hitting the side of the carriage with his fist.

  She watched his anger mount and realized this was not the time to tell him about the possibility of the lady being her mother-in-law or of Wendover's threats. "What is the lady to do then?"