The Hidden Heiress - a Victorian Historical Romance

by Juliet Moore

  Other couples stated their responses, then Marshall said, "Eggs and kippers."

  How did he know that? This time when she held up her answer, Marshall clapped in triumph.

  "Right again, Templeton!" Mr. Reed exclaimed.

  Marshall leaned close to her again. "I make it a point to know these things."

  She shivered with delight.

  "You'll like this next question, Mr. Reed," Lady Tremaine said. "What does your partner do just before going to sleep?"

  This time, Jane smiled. "She has milk and biscuits."

  Shoulders slumped, Paige replied, "I stopped having milk and biscuits when I was five years old."

  Jane's posture seemed to collapse just as badly as her daughter's. "It would help you sleep," she said.

  "I stopped having them because it gave me indigestion."

  Isabel had to wonder if her plan had been foolhardy. She sent Paige a sympathetic look.

  Then it was Marshall's turn. "Miss Balfour reads the newspaper before she goes to bed."

  "How do you know that?" Isabel gasped. "You haven't--"

  "I'm quite observant," he replied, but Isabel saw how everyone looked at him with understanding in their eyes.

  She never should have played this stupid game!

  "We're not finished yet," Lady Tremaine said, breaking up the chatter that had begun after the last answer. "Answer me this: At this moment, who is your partner's closest friend?"

  Isabel hesitated before writing her response. A man she'd known for less than two months was her closest friend. She didn't know if he had any idea, but if he did answer correctly, it would hurt him if her response were a lie.

  After the other couples had answered, Jane said, "I am Paige's closest friend."

  Paige shook her head and held up her paper. "Miss Balfour."

  Jane blinked several times in a row and looked away. "Well, I suppose that's natural. She's with you throughout the day. I just thought . . ."

  Close to tears, Paige muttered, "You were wrong."

  Isabel's intention had never been to humiliate Jane. She prompted the game to continue. "Mr. Templeton, do you have an answer?"

  "I am your closest friend, Miss Balfour," he said.

  The lady closest to her tittered at his response. Isabel knew it was scandalous and wanted to be able to reveal an altogether different answer, but she couldn't do it. Suddenly, the game meant more to her than a trivial, parlor time-waster. She showed the group the slip of paper. "He is correct."

  "Lucky man, Templeton," their scorekeeper said, winking at his known mistress. Not only were their masks not fooling anyone, no one's secrets were protected either.

  Isabel was the only one who kept her anonymity and she didn't need a mask.

  "I think those are enough questions," Lady Tremaine stated, her sharp eyes seeing right through Jane's pretense of uncaring.

  "Let's tally it up!"

  Marshall leaned close to her yet again. "Are you surprised that I remember all of those details?"

  "Certainly. I don't remember telling you some of those things."

  His nose gently nudged her ear. "Perhaps I've been reading your diary."

  She turned her head her to look at him. "I know that's not true."

  "And how do you know that?"

  "Because if you had read my diary, you'd have a better idea of how to take advantage of me."

  His lids became heavy with desire. "Don't tempt me, Miss Balfour. Tonight, my inhibitions have been trampled."

  As have mine. Isabel didn't trust herself to respond. She turned back to the assembled group.

  "I've finished adding up the scores," Mr. Reed finally said.

  Paige and Jane lost, having the lowest score of the entire group.

  "How odd," Lady Tremaine said when it was announced. "One would think a mother . . ."

  "What foolish questions!" Jane cried. "Really more suited to couples."

  Lady Tremaine bristled at the insult to her officiating duties and replied, "I could have answered each of those questions about my children and I have six. Not just the one."

  Jane stood up, pulling Paige with her. "It's time you were in bed."

  Isabel followed her across the room. "That is my responsibility, Mrs. Templeton. Enjoy the ball. I'll take Paige up."

  "You've done enough, Miss Balfour," she replied. "In fact, I've been wondering if Paige has gotten a little too old for a governess."

  Isabel hesitated before responding. Jane didn't wait. She dragged her daughter out of the room without waiting for her response.

  They continued announcing the scores, from lowest to highest. Isabel still hadn't heard her name. She walked back to Marshall and stood beside him. It was a quarter to midnight.

  "And it looks like Miss Balfour and Mr. Templeton are our winners!" Mr. Reed announced. "Congratulations, Templeton. I hope it gets you an extra warm bed this chilly autumn evening."

  The ladies in the room mostly gasped, though some giggled behind their delicate fans. Isabel showed them her back and hurried out of the room.

  Marshall was close behind her. "Why did you run?"

  "Did you see how they were looking at me? I've never been so embarrassed in my life."

  He steered her through the near-empty hallway. "You might have lied."

  "I didn't want to give you the wrong impression."

  "I know. I just realized how much you care for me." He pushed her against the wall, shielding her with his cape. "When I said that I am the person you are closest to, I had no idea you'd agree. I was just hoping."

  "Oh, Marshall," she said, releasing the breath she'd been holding for two months. "I don't think I've ever felt closer to anyone."

  He kissed her, his full lips enveloped her mouth.

  It was like coming home. She was tired of running. She knew right then that even if she were a governess, she would be his mistress. Isabel hooked her arms around his neck and sunk into his warmth.

  * * *

  Marshall's tongue explored her mouth as he pushed her harder against the wall. Then he pulled away, breathing heavily. "We must stop."

  "Must we?"

  His cape fell away and he coaxed her down the hallway. Marshall walked quickly, his knee-high black boots loud on the polished wood floor.

  Isabel tried to get her bearings. They'd just passed the library. "This isn't the way to the ballroom."

  "I'm not taking you to the ballroom."

  "Why not?"

  "Why not?" He grabbed her arms again and pressed her against the wall. "I'm in dire need of privacy, Isabel. Now, if you don't wish to join me . . ."

  Desire besieged her senses. Her legs itched to be on their way upstairs. But then she wouldn't be there at midnight. Isabel hesitated, knowing she couldn't have it both ways. Either she unmasked herself and lay in wait for her attacker or she went with Marshall. There was nothing else.

  He wanted her immediately. Tomorrow, they might both return to their senses in the revealing light of day. Neither could her unmasking wait another day. Would she rather risk her life or risk her heart?

  He was worth the risk.

  "I would be delighted to join you."

  Marshall didn't waste time on words. He pulled her away from the wall and hurried her toward the back of the house. "We'll take the servant's stairs. They're this way."

  "I know. I use them."

  He shook his head. "Why would you use the servant's stairs?"

  They reached the narrow, steep stairs and he ascended before her, whipping his head around at every stray sound.

  They found themselves in the servant's wing. "My room is just down here," she told him.

  Marshall nodded and allowed her to lead the way.

  Isabel heard the crying first. She froze. "Do you hear that?"

  Marshall peered around the bend in the hall and held her back with one arm. "I don't see anyone."

  "It's coming from just ahead."

  "Which is your door?"

  Isabel poi
nted to her door and replied, "I'll go ahead to make sure the crying isn't coming from my room."

  She'd started to move when he pulled her back. "You'll signal me?"

  "Of course." Isabel jogged down the hall, heart beating in her throat. She passed Paige's bedroom and her confusion was cured. There was no doubt the crying was coming from inside.

  Isabel paused in front of the door. It was her fault that Paige was crying herself to sleep, whether or not Jane was the person she was crying over. She never should have suggested such a foolish, meaningless game.

  Isabel heard Marshall's cry of protest from down the hall and tried to move away. Instead, she leaned closer to the door. Paige was certainly crying, she realized then, but she wasn't alone. The calm voice of her mother interrupted each wail. Maybe the night had its effect.

  It was all Isabel needed to know.

  She ran the rest of the way to her bedroom, opened the door, then invited Marshall in with a smile.

  Without delay, he shut and locked the door. "Why did you stop in the hallway?"

  She took a step back. "Paige was crying. I wanted to see if she was all right."

  "Is she?"

  Isabel nodded. "Mrs. Templeton is with her."

  His eyes widened with disbelief, but didn't comment. He looked down at his trousers. "It seems I'm no longer in need of privacy."

  "Is that good?"

  "No, that's bad."

  Isabel's every limb trembled. "Shouldn't we return to the party?"

  Marshall shook his head. "You knew you wouldn't be returning tonight. Admit it."

  Fear suffused her at his words. She didn't know what she was doing or why she had boldly invited him into her bedroom. Or did she?

  Marshall started to untie his cape. "Did you enjoy the masquerade ball?"

  Full of energy, she spun around, her scarlet skirt spreading out around her. "It was the most exciting evening of my life. I don't think I'll ever fall asleep tonight."

  "I'm delighted to hear that," he said. He folded his black cape and deposited it on her dressing table.

  The sight of his masculine article of clothing lying next to her perfumes and hairbrushes made her shiver with delight. "And how did you enjoy the night's festivities?"

  "It's a little hard to explain."

  "How could it be hard to explain?"

  Marshall ran his fingers through his short hair. "Dancing with you in that ballroom, playing that game with you and winning easily, and chasing you up to your bedroom all made me feel . . ."

  Isabel waited with baited breath. "How did it make you feel?" she prompted.

  "You want to know how I feel? I'll show you," he said, crossing the room in three long strides.

  She could see his next move in his fiery expression. She didn't back away.

  He gripped her waist with his large hands and pulled her against his chest. "If you won't be sleeping tonight, the least I can do is keep you company."

  Her stomach flipped over at his scandalous words. "I don't think that would be a good idea," she protested, weakly. If he hadn't been so close, she doubted he even would have heard her.

  "We'll see," he replied.

  As soon as his lips touched hers, she collapsed. He lifted her feet off the floor and carried her to the bed. They sank into the mattress, his soulful eyes hypnotizing her into complacency.

  He kissed her neck, gently at first. She pushed herself up against him, all memories of the day swirled around in her mind. She wanted to lose herself in him. She had to.

  Marshall nibbled her neck, sending shivers down her entire body. She arched against him, moaning at the new sensation. She wiggled her legs, causing her skirt to creep higher up her legs.

  He moved back to her lips. "Are you trying to get away from me?" he teased.

  "No," she replied. She wished she could confess the truth. She reached up and ran her hands through his hair, yanking the dark strands. Their eyes met and she told him everything she felt, everything she was too afraid to tell him with words. he saw something pass over him and felt sure that he was thinking the same thing. He knew what she was trying to tell him. He could see it. He could feel it. She pressed against him again, urging him on.

  His hand crept down her body, then lifted up her skirt. He caressed her stocking-sheathed leg, still kissing her eager lips. He unrolled one stocking, then the other. She quivered in anticipation.

  She felt his hot breath on her ankle. He kissed her there, running the tip of his tongue upward. "This time, I am going to kiss every inch of you," he whispered, his voice deep with passion.

  Isabel gasped, wondering if he truly meant every inch.

  Chapter 13

  "You're still here?" Isabel pulled the covers up to her chin, her entire body heated with the memory of the previous night.

  Marshall chuckled and pulled the sheets out of her grasp. "Do your lovers usually sneak out in the middle of the night?"

  "Of course not," she laughed. She tried to retrieve the sheets.

  "Don't be shy."

  "I'm not shy. I'm just--"

  "Modest?" Marshall grinned. "I saw every part of you last night."

  Just as she had seen every part of him. She trembled at the memory. "It was dark then."

  He ran his fingertips down the side of her body. "You have nothing to be ashamed of."

  Isabel looked away, images of the night before flashed through her mind. She glanced up at him. "Please let me have the sheet."

  The fire in Marshall's eyes had returned. His movement toward her was almost imperceptible, but she knew he would soon be atop her. "I can think of a much more delightful way to cover your body."

  She scooted away, her back pressed into the headboard. "Marshall!"

  "All right. You win." He tossed her the sheet, thereby revealing his own body.

  She wrapped herself in the bed linens and tried to focus on his face. "Don't you need to be somewhere?"

  "Like work?" He shook his head. "I don't want to work anymore. I only want to be with you."

  "Be serious." She stared at the wall behind him. "You have to work."

  "No, I don't. Not if there's no room for you in my life."

  He was serious, she realized with a start. Her entire body reacted to the thought. "What do you mean, Marshall?"

  He seized the edge of the sheet and pulled her into his arms. "I want you, Isabel. I love you."

  Her heart pounded at the realization of her dreams. She never thought she'd hear those words escape his lips. Had never even dared to hope. Isabel blinked away the tears and tried to focus on his face. "Do you mean it?"

  "I'm tied to you irrevocably, Isabel. I can't let you go."

  It was difficult to breath, to absorb everything all at once. Her heart was beating frighteningly fast. Isabel wrapped her arms around Marshall's neck. "I didn't imagine you could feel that way."

  He caressed her, leaving a tingling trail from the top of her head to the nape of her neck. "You should have realized it last night."

  Now, of course, it seemed so clear. He'd shown her his love, just as she'd revealed hers. She brushed her lips against his bearded chin. "It was wonderful last night, but I wasn't sure if it was as meaningful to you as it was to me."

  "I'd have to be a corpse not to be affected."

  Isabel didn't take her eyes off his face, afraid he'd disappear if she looked away. She was terrified that the lightheadedness she felt was due to it all being a dream, a fuzzy fantasy from the edge of her subconscious.

  Marshall kissed her forehead, leaving behind a tiny moist mark that felt cool in the early morning chill. "When I woke up beside you this morning, I felt I was the luckiest man in the world. You're any man's dream. I'm willing to give up everything to have you."

  There was the rub. The imperfect element to her happy day and the proof that she was firmly enmeshed in reality. She leaned back a little. "But, Marshall, you could lose your position in the Parliament. Any hance you had of becoming a Junior Lord. Isn't that what y
ou told me before?"

  His expression was impassive. "I said that before I realized I was staring my dreams in the face, dreams I had completely given up on."

  It seemed too easy. Too pat. She squeezed his shoulders. "How are you so sure now?"

  "I told you, Isabel. I woke up beside you. I memorized every inch of while you lay there in the sunlight. I know."

  "But . . ." she started, but couldn't finish. She'd gotten herself into a mess.

  He thought he knew everything when, in reality, he knew nothing. She was an heiress, for god's sake! She had kept things from him that were most elemental to her personality. She had done it and thought nothing of love. Many days, she worried he would discover the truth and endanger her position. Then, she'd worried about his endangering himself. Not once had she considered the possibility that he would fall in love with her and make any subsequent revelation from her side the ultimate betrayal.

  If he loved her as much as he said, as much as he seemed to when she gazed into his eyes, maybe it wouldn't matter. She was an heiress and therefore wouldn't impede his aspirations. He could essentially have his cake and eat it too.

  Isabel shook her head. Her guilt made it ache profusely. "I refuse to let you give everything up for me."

  "I knew you'd hate the idea of me sacrificing myself for you, but that's because you have a good heart. I didn't expect you to support my decision."

  "That's not the only reason I disagree with it, Marshall."

  Confidence in his gaze, Marshall replied, "Well, you cannot prevent it, Isabel. I've already done the deed."

  She tucked her dark hair behind her ears. "I don't understand."

  "I resigned."

  No, she must have misheard. Isabel scooted closer to him. "What? Please tell me you're teasing."

  "I'm not," he replied, expression quite serious for a man entirely naked. "I resigned yesterday morning."

  * * *

  Isabel snapped her gaze away from his strong body. "Why didn't you say that last night?"

  "It didn't occur to me."

  No! What had she done? Isabel trembled to think of what kind of reaction he'd have on discovering everything he knew about her was a lie. She needed more time to think.