The Reluctant Marquess

by Maggi Andersen

  Charity selected a tiny iced almond cake. She laid a napkin in her lap and nibbled at it, not really tasting it. “There must be something I can do.”

  “Perhaps by just being you, my dear. I can’t tell you how happy you’ve made me, coming here.”

  “I’m glad.” While Charity sipped her tea, the door opened and two children burst into the room. A girl of about fourteen with her dark hair in curls down her back was followed by a slightly younger, tow-haired boy in short trousers. Lady Charlesworth held out her arms. “These are my other two children, Clare and Frederick. Children, please come and greet Robert’s wife.”

  Frederick gave a well-practiced bow. Clare curtseyed while she gazed at Charity’s wide-brimmed hat adorned with feathers and ribbons. “How pretty,” she said, edging closer.

  “Would you like to try it on?” Charity asked her.

  “Yes, please,” she said in a breathy voice.

  “Oh, no, my dear. You will spoil your hairstyle,” Lady Charlesworth protested.

  “Lud, what of that!” Charity laughed. She removed the pin and took off the hat. Placing it on the young girl’s head, she set it at the right angle.

  “Very fetching! Go and look in the mirror.”

  Clare rushed to the gilt mirror over the mantel and posed, turning this way and that. It was much too big, but she looked quite sweet in it. Her mother laughed.

  “Do you know any card tricks?” Frederick took a pack of cards from his pocket and set it on the table.

  “I confess, I know not one,” Charity said.

  “I know a lot. Shall I show you?”

  “Not now, Frederick,” Lady Charlesworth said. “Please say goodbye to your new sister-in-law. Back to the schoolroom, the pair of you. Your governess will be waiting.”

  Clare reluctantly removed the hat from her head and returned it to Charity.

  “You have lovely children,” Charity said, after the door closed behind them.

  “Thank you. Do you…wish for children, my dear?”

  “I do. I hope to have many.” As she said it, a swift, deep yearning filled her.

  “How wonderful.” Lady Charlesworth’s eyes widened as she poured more tea into Charity’s cup.

  “I suppose it’s because I’m an only child that I like big families.” Could she mend what was wrong between her and Robert? She was aware he needed an heir, but at this rate they would never make peace with one another long enough to produce one. She was horrified at the thought of an arrangement that would send them to live in separate residences after she became enceinte.

  “Does Robert want a big family too?” She had to be honest. “I’m not sure.”

  Lady Charlesworth shook her head. “Men never know these things. They need to be ... persuaded.”

  “Persuaded?”

  Lady Charlesworth smiled. “Women have a lot of power over men, my dear. I’m sure you know what I mean. A clever woman can achieve what she wants with subtlety.” She gave a laugh. “They need never be aware that they’ve been manipulated.”

  “Robert recognizes the need for an heir,” Charity said, surprised to find Lady Charlesworth, who looked so demure, a little calculating. Might she be right? An older woman was surely wiser in these matters.

  Lady Charlesworth smiled proudly. “He is a man of some consequence now, isn’t he?” Her fine brows rose. “Forgive me for saying this, but you love him very much, don’t you? I see it in your eyes when you speak of him. It’s difficult for one woman to hide this from another.”

  Chastity nodded. “I want a good marriage.”

  Lady Charlesworth smiled. “Then you shall, I’m sure of it. I suspect you are just what Robert needs.”

  “I do hope so.” Charity sighed; not at all convinced that it was so. “Thank you for inviting me into your home. I must go.” Charity rose to put on her hat and her squirrel-coloured redingote. She felt an urgent need to find Robert and talk to him.

  Robert’s mother rose, too. She took her hands and squeezed them. “If only there was some way I could mend this hurt, but I’m afraid it lies in Robert’s hands. I wish you both happy, my dear. Could you, do you think, call on us again?”

  “If you’d like me to.”

  Lady Charlesworth hugged her. “Oh do, please. Don’t stand on ceremony, my dear. Call anytime. We’d love to see you.”

  Dusk closed in as the carriage bore Charity home through traffic-filled thoroughfares busy with the men of business seeking finance and trade. Night enveloped the city. Already, the coffee houses and elegant shops were closing their doors. Soon, the glow of oil-burning street lights would appear as the London night came alive and the playhouses, theatres, music halls and gambling houses opened.

  The carriage stopped, held up by traffic when a cart lost its load of vegetables. The delay gave Charity time to think of what she had learned. How awful that Robert suffered the loss of his father when just a boy. She knew how devastating that was.

  How cruel that, following what he saw as his mother’s betrayal, the woman he had loved broke his heart. She tried to bury her curiosity about the woman. It was painful to think he’d chosen her and had loved her passionately. No doubt she was quite different to herself. Tall and fair perhaps, like Lady Arabella?

  If nothing else came of this visit, she now understood Robert better. He was afraid of love, because for him love resulted in loss and heartache. She determined to make him understand that her love was constant. She frowned. This could not be achieved in a day. She tapped her fingers on the window ledge, gazing out at the busy streets. The spilled cabbages had been swept aside, and the carriage began to move forward.

  Her soft heart ached for Robert, and her love spilled over.

  Had she been wrong? To be a good wife, must she first act like that mistress Brigitte had told her about? If Robert felt more in control with a mistress, then Charity determined to act like one.

  She called to the driver. “We’ll make a stop at my modiste in Albemarle Street, John.”

  When she arrived home, she raced to her bedchamber with her parcel.

  That evening, Robert appeared in the salon before dinner. He had a small bruise and a cut high on his cheek.

  She gazed up into his face. “You have been hurt. What on earth happened?”

  Robert touched it tentatively as if he’d forgotten. “I scraped it on a branch when riding in the park.” He held out his arm, and they walked to the dining room.

  “In Rotten Row?” She looked at him doubtfully, knowing what a fine rider he was. “You should be more careful. Have you had it attended to?”

  “It’s just a scratch.”

  “Perhaps put some—”

  “Please don’t fuss, Charity.” He stood at her chair. “I don’t need my wife to turn into a mother.”

  Charity settled herself, tucking her skirts around her. “You won’t turn to your mother for assistance though, will you?”

  He frowned and turned to Hove and the footmen. “Would you leave us?” He gazed at her warily as the door closed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  She swallowed, almost losing her nerve at the sight of his cold blue eyes. “Only that an older and wiser woman is an asset to any family.”

  “I’ve got on quite well without it.”

  “Have you?”

  “I dislike this conversation. Might we change it? I have an engagement this evening.”

  “Where is this engagement?” Suspicious, Charity frowned, as hot jealousy coursed through her. Her desire to make peace with him evaporated.

  He raised a brow. “Something I promised a friend. Not something I desire to do.”

  “You treat your friends better than your wife, my lord.”

  He sighed. “You are yet to learn the way we live here in London, Charity.”

  “Perhaps I don’t wish to learn it,” she threw at him. “Particularly if it is careless, cruel and unkind!”

  She bit her lip, she was failing in her effort to be seductive. Maybe it went
against her nature.

  The soup was brought in, and Robert’s expression silenced her.

  Aware she was making things a good deal worse, she picked up her spoon. There would be time enough later and his mother’s words still rang in her ears. She disliked being manipulative, but if it might work to bring them together. She was willing to try it, although her confidence in achieving success had reached its lowest ebb.

  Robert left the house with a shrug of frustration. Charity found so many of the conventions of the ton to be false and forced him to see it too. He tried to push the thought away. Lighting a cheroot, he forced his body to relax and settled back against the squabs in the carriage as it negotiated the London streets. It didn’t seem to work for he still felt tense when the carriage stopped.

  He found Anastasia particularly annoying that evening. As usual, the music hall audience was rowdy, and the show lacked inspiration and talent.

  “We have not made love since you married,” she fired at him when they returned to her apartment, and he again resisted her invitation into her bed. “I believe you are in love with your wife.”

  “You think so?” His cool look was meant to silence her.

  Anastasia wasn’t about to let the matter go. “You don’t even like me speaking her name. If you’re so fond of her, why are you here?”

  “Why indeed?” Robert spluttered. “If a man has to answer to his mistress as he does his wife, their association should end.”

  She poked him the chest. “I agree. Even though you are a remarkably good lover, I need to find myself a new patron.”

  “No doubt you already have one picked out,” he said, opening the front door. He was surprised at how little he cared. He left her apartment and headed down the corridor toward the stairs.

  “I have several,” she called after him and slammed the door.

  Robert donned his hat and coat and entered the street, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. What a fool he’d been!

  Women were such romantics. They thought love was at the root of everything. Might he be in love with Charity? He found more and more that he wanted to be with her. And he wanted to make love to her very badly. But dammit! It wasn’t unreasonable to want the beautiful woman living under his roof in his bed, was it? He defied even a monk to resist her charms. But it had to be on his terms. He and Charity had been fighting a war. The prize was his freedom. A man had to keep a cool head or he’d find himself turned into that obliging lap dog, with every shred of his masculinity gone. He hailed a hackney and went home to bed.

  During the night, he woke to find a slender body had climbed into his bed. Turning, he caught the fragrant scent of damask roses. Charity.

  Despite his surprise, he acted quickly, gathering her warm, soft curves against him before she changed her mind, and whispered in her ear, “You have forgiven me my abhorrent behavior, then.”

  Her sweet breath touched his cheek. “If you’ve forgiven me for slapping you.”

  “I deserved it,” he said diplomatically. “May I light a candle?”

  She paused. “All right.”

  When candlelight flickered in the room, he gasped. Charity lay on the bed in an almost transparent nightgown of black lace. It was something he would expect Anastasia to wear, not his shy, innocent little wife. She did look enchanting in it with her hair loose. Her sun-kissed curls flowed over her shoulders like Venus in Botticelli’s painting.

  Venus had been naked, and he was rocked with a very strong desire to remove the garment, pretty as it was. “Where did you find that nightgown?”

  “I saw it at my modiste’s the other day. She was making it for someone else. I persuaded her to sell it to me.”

  “I’m very glad you did. I didn’t know you went out in the carriage. I hope you took your maid with you.”

  She gave a quick shake of her head.

  He tried to summon annoyance at her continued lack of propriety in the hope that he could hang on to some perspective, but failed, as his blood surged and his heart pounded. Right now, he didn’t give a damn. Rather than appearing apologetic, her green eyes defied him, while her white teeth nibbled her plump lower lip, inviting him to kiss her. He lost his breath as his mind wandered, and his cock stood at attention. “You are so lovely,” he said, his voice roughened by desire. His gaze wandered over her beautiful legs up to the thrust of her breasts against the whisper thin material. Her golden skin was like polished porcelain in the candlelight. The delicate bone structure of her bare shoulders made him feel protective and tender towards her.

  “I feel beautiful when you look at me like that,” she said softly.

  “You’re trembling.”

  “A little.”

  Charity released the breath she had been holding. She had been afraid he would turn her away. He gazed at her with such passion in his eyes, surely he wanted her?

  Robert cupped her chin in his hand and gazed into her eyes. “I promise not to hurt you, Charity. If I have hurt you in any way in the past, I’m confoundedly sorry for it.”

  “Oh, Robert!” Charity sighed, feeling the tension leave her limbs. Only a little apprehension for what lay ahead remained.

  Robert bent to kiss her, tasting her full lips. How he had wanted to do this, and know she wouldn’t fly out of his arms at the slightest provocation. He drew away the lacy fabric of her nightgown and uncovered a breast, bending to kiss it. Her skin was soft and fragrant. She sucked in a ragged breath and clutched his shoulders. Aware she was nervous, he gently nudged a nipple, teasing it with his tongue. Her delighted gasp stirred a corresponding delight in him, but it was so much more than desire. His heart swelled with joy. It was an emotion like no other he’d ever experienced. It stunned him, enveloped him, and he almost pulled away in fear of it.

  “Charity.” He groaned and ripped the fragile lace as he pulled it over her head. “I’ll buy you another,” he promised. “Just like it.

  One for every night of the week.” He rained kisses over her soft throat. “I want you so much.”

  “I want you too,” she whispered. Her breasts and lower stomach throbbed for his touch, and for something she didn’t quite understand.

  He groaned again at his foolishness. “I have, you know, since I first saw you.”

  “I think I loved you even then.”

  He raised his head to look into her face. “And do you still love me now?”

  She smiled shyly. “Yes, of course.”

  “I’m a lucky, undeserving fellow.” He kissed her, a passionate kiss that left them both gasping. “The only thing I can say in my defense is I needed time to wrestle with a few demons.”

  “I know.”

  He hesitated. “You know?”

  “Love is glorious, but when one gives up one’s very soul to it, it can also be frightening.”

  Robert tenderly traced her lustrous lips and bent to kiss them again. “How did you come to be so wise?”

  His gaze roamed over her body, from the jutting fullness of her pale breasts and perky nipples the color of strawberries, down over the curve of her slender waist to the downy hair at the base of her stomach and her rounded thighs. He longed to part them and discover the delectable beauty that awaited him there. It felt like he was drowning in lust. Must go easy and not hurt her, he cautioned himself. But he wanted her so much. He’d denied himself sex for so long his cock strained and his testicles throbbed painfully. His fingers traced over the delightfully rounded curves of her body, from her breasts to her silky-skinned derrière and the exquisitely soft skin of her inner thigh, his hand settling there. She gave a breathy moan as he stroked her plump, damp softness, and he watched with delight as her green eyes grew dazed and she made gasping little cries.

  Her passionate response made his heart bang against his ribs.

  “Do you want me to continue?” he asked hoarsely, almost afraid of the answer. It felt as if his whole life depended on it.

  Charity jerked against him, gasping, “Yes. Yes
.”

  She lay back on the pillow, inviting him to touch her, to taste her. She deferred to him in this, and even though he suspected it might be one of the few things in which she did, it made him feel powerful. Her lips parted under his, and he explored the sweet cavern of her mouth, his tongue touching hers, sending a wave of desire flooding through him.

  He sat up and drew off his nightshirt. The candlelight played on his skin turning it golden. “Your body is beautiful, Robert,” Charity whispered.

  He settled between her legs, and she hugged him to her, pulling him close against her soft curves, her firm breasts and taut nipples rubbing against his chest. The blood surged through his body as she nibbled his ear and murmured encouragement.

  She might be an innocent, but you could never accuse Charity of being straight-laced or priggish, as he feared a virgin might be.

  She had grown in confidence and become an intoxicating mix of nymph and siren. What joy lay in the years ahead.

  Her hands danced along his back and she murmured words of love. Desire roared in his ears as her words became incoherent. Her body was hot and slick with desire, and he thought he might explode with the exquisite pleasure of it. He entered her, met with resistance and pushed, breaking though.

  She cried out, and he faltered. “Have I hurt you? Shall I go on?”

  “Don’t stop, please.” Her voice shook.

  He moved slowly, feeling her body sheath him, drawing him into her hot center. Stroking rhythmically, he’d held himself in check too long and knew he could not last long. “Next time,” he promised.

  He cried her name as he came.

  Charity stretched out her limbs feeing heavy and sated.

  They were now truly man and wife in the eyes of God as well as the church. It had been wonderful, all of it, even the pain and discomfort which Robert promised would not return. She drew his head down to her breast and held him tenderly and her heart swelled with love. Surely now, he was entirely hers. Yet, some uneasiness remained. Would she be enough for him? Would he be faithful and more importantly did he love her? Even in the throws of passion he had not said those words.