by Julia Quinn
JULIA QUINN
How to Marry a Marquis
In living memory
Ted Cotler, 1915-1973
Rutherford Swatzburg, 1910-1992
Betty Goldblatt Swatzburg, 1910-1997
Edith Block Cotler, 1917-1998
Ernest Anderson, 1911-1998
I stand upon your shoulders every day of my life.
And for Paul, even though he seems to think
he can get out of just about anything by saying,
“You’re very cute, though.”
Contents
CHAPTER 1
Four plus six plus eight plus seven plus one…
CHAPTER 2
James! Agatha Danbury didn’t often squeal,…
CHAPTER 3
Elizabeth was muttering to herself as she entered…
CHAPTER 4
Isn’t it a beautiful day?
CHAPTER 5
I’m sorry!
CHAPTER 6
He watched her all day.
CHAPTER 7
Elizabeth arrived at Danbury House the following…
CHAPTER 8
Elizabeth arrived at Danbury House earlier than usual…
CHAPTER 9
You want to do what?
CHAPTER 10
James arrived at the front gate at a quarter past four,…
CHAPTER 11
Elizabeth was surprised how unconcerned she was…
CHAPTER 12
Heavens to St. Peter, Susan exclaimed.
CHAPTER 13
Elizabeth had time to catch one short breath before…
CHAPTER 14
The following afternoon found Elizabeth skulking…
CHAPTER 15
James had his hands shoved in his pockets as he made…
CHAPTER 16
As James walked Elizabeth home,…
CHAPTER 17
The night was hung with magic.
CHAPTER 18
Elizabeth punched him again,…
CHAPTER 19
It didn’t take long for Elizabeth to decide that Blake…
CHAPTER 20
Lady Danbury rarely traveled without her cat.
CHAPTER 21
By the time James had her out the front door,…
CHAPTER 22
As Elizabeth approached the late Lord Danbury’s…
EPILOGUE
Author’s Note: It is universally agreed upon by…
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
AVON BOOKS BY JULIA QUINN
COPYRIGHT
ABOUT THE PUBLISHER
Chapter 1
Surrey, England
August 1815
Four plus six plus eight plus seven plus one plus one plus one, mark down eight, carry the two…
Elizabeth Hotchkiss added up the column of numbers for the fourth time, came up with the same answer she’d come up with three times before, and groaned.
When she looked up, three somber faces were staring at her—the three faces of her younger siblings.
“What is it, Lizzie?” nine-year-old Jane asked.
Elizabeth smiled weakly as she tried to figure out how she was going to put away enough money to buy fuel to heat their little cottage that winter. “We, ah…we haven’t much in the way of funds, I’m afraid.”
Susan, who at fourteen was closest in age to Elizabeth, frowned. “Are you absolutely certain? We must have something. When Papa was alive we always—”
Elizabeth silenced her with an urgent stare. There were a lot of things they’d had when Papa was alive, but he’d left them nothing aside from a small bank account. No income, no property. Nothing but memories. And those—at least the ones Elizabeth carried with her—weren’t the sort that warmed one’s heart.
“Things are different now,” she said firmly, hoping to put an end to the subject. “You can’t compare the two.”
Jane grinned. “We can use the money Lucas has been stuffing away in his toy soldier box.”
Lucas, the only boy in the Hotchkiss clan, yelped. “What were you doing in my things?” He turned to Elizabeth with an expression that might have been termed “glowering” had it not been gracing the face of an eight-year-old. “Is there no privacy in this household?”
“Apparently not,” Elizabeth said absently, staring down at the numbers before her. She made a few marks with her pencil as she tried to devise new methods of economy.
“Sisters,” Lucas grunted, looking excessively put out. “I am plagued with them.”
Susan peered at Elizabeth’s ledger. “Can’t we shuffle some of the money about? Do something to stretch it a bit further?”
“There’s nothing to stretch. Thank goodness the rent on the cottage is paid, or we’d be out on our ears.”
“Is it really as bad as that?” Susan whispered.
Elizabeth nodded. “We’ve enough to last the rest of the month, and then a bit more when I receive my wages from Lady Danbury, but then…” Her words trailed off, and she looked away, not wanting Jane and Lucas to see the tears pricking her eyes. She’d been caring for these three for five years, ever since she’d been eighteen. They depended on her for food, shelter, and, most importantly, stability.
Jane nudged Lucas, and then, when he didn’t respond, jabbed him in the soft spot between his shoulder and collarbone.
“What?” he snapped. “That hurt.”
“‘What’ is impolite,” Elizabeth said automatically. “‘Pardon’ is preferable.”
Lucas’s little mouth fell open in outrage. “It wasn’t polite of her to poke me like that. And I’m certainly not going to beg her pardon.”
Jane rolled her eyes and sighed. “You must remember that he is only eight.”
Lucas smirked back. “You’re only nine.”
“I shall always be older than you.”
“Yes, but I shall soon be bigger, and then you’ll be sorry.”
Elizabeth’s lips curved into a bittersweet smile as she watched them bicker. She’d heard the same argument a million times before, but she’d also spied Jane tiptoeing into Lucas’s room after dark to give him a goodnight kiss on the forehead.
Theirs might not be a typical family—it was just the four of them, after all, and they’d been orphans for years—but the Hotchkiss clan was special. Elizabeth had managed to keep the family together five years ago when her father had died, and she was damned if she’d let a shortage of funds tear them apart now.
Jane crossed her arms. “You should give Lizzie your money, Lucas. It isn’t right to hoard it away.”
He nodded solemnly and left the room, his little blond head bowed. Elizabeth glanced back up at Susan and Jane. They were also blond, with the bright blue eyes of their mother. And Elizabeth looked just like the rest of them—a little blond army, they were, with no money for food.
She sighed again and leveled a serious stare at her sisters. “I’m going to have to marry. There is nothing else for it.”
“Oh, no, Lizzie!” Jane shrieked, jumping out of her chair and practically clambering across the table to her sister’s lap. “Not that! Anything but that!”
Elizabeth looked at Susan with a confused expression, silently asking her if she knew why Jane was so upset. Susan just shook her head and shrugged.
“It’s not that bad,” Elizabeth said, stroking Jane’s hair. “If I marry, then I shall probably have a baby of my own, and then you get to be an auntie. Won’t that be nice?”
“But the only person who’s asked you is Squire Nevins, and he’s horrid! Just horrid.”
Elizabeth smiled unconvincingly. “I’m sure we can find someone besides Squire Nevins. Someone less…ah…horrid.”
“I won’t live with him,” Jane said with a mu
tinous cross of her arms. “I won’t. I’d rather go to an orphanage. Or one of those horrid workhouses.”
Elizabeth didn’t blame her. Squire Nevins was old, fat, and mean. And he always stared at Elizabeth in a way that made her break out in a cold sweat. Truth be told, she didn’t much like the way he stared at Susan, either. Or Jane, for that matter.
No, she couldn’t marry Squire Nevins.
Lucas returned to the kitchen carrying a small metal box. He held it out to Elizabeth. “I’ve saved one pound, forty,” he said. “I was going to use it for—” He swallowed. “Never mind. I want you to have it. For the family.”
Elizabeth took the box silently and looked in. Lucas’s one pound, forty, was there, almost all in pennies and ha’pennies. “Lucas, honey,” she said gently. “This is your savings. It has taken you years to collect all of these coins.”
His lower lip quivered, but somehow he managed to expand his little chest until he stood like one of his toy soldiers. “I’m the man of the house now. I have to provide for you.”
Elizabeth nodded solemnly and moved his money into the box where she kept household funds. “Very well. We shall use this for food. Perhaps you can come shopping with me next week, and you may pick out something you like.”
“My kitchen garden should begin to produce vegetables soon,” Susan said helpfully. “Enough to feed us, and maybe a bit extra we could sell or barter in the village.”
Jane started to squirm on Elizabeth’s lap. “Please tell me you didn’t plant more turnips. I hate turnips.”
“We all hate turnips,” Susan replied. “But they’re so easy to grow.”
“Not so easy to eat,” Lucas grumbled.
Elizabeth exhaled and closed her eyes. How had they come to this? Theirs was an old, honorable family—little Lucas was even a baronet! And yet they were reduced to growing turnips—which they all detested—in a kitchen garden.
She was failing. She had thought she could raise her brother and sisters. When her father had died, it had been the most impossible time in her life, and all that had kept her going was the thought that she had to protect her siblings, keep them happy and warm. Together.
She’d fought off aunts and uncles and cousins, all of whom offered to take on one of the Hotchkiss children, usually little Lucas, who, with his title, could eventually hope to marry a girl with a nice large dowry. But Elizabeth had refused, even when her friends and neighbors had urged her to let him go.
She’d wanted to keep the family together, she had said. Was that so much to ask?
But she was failing. There was no money for music lessons or tutors, or any of the things Elizabeth had taken for granted when she’d been small. The Lord only knew how she was going to manage to send Lucas to Eton. And he had to go. Every Hotchkiss male for four hundred years had attended Eton. They hadn’t all managed to graduate, but they’d all gone.
She was going to have to marry. And her husband was going to have to have a lot of money. It was as simple as that.
“Abraham begat Isaac, and Isaac begat Jacob, and Jacob begat Judas…”
Elizabeth quietly cleared her throat and looked up with hopeful eyes. Was Lady Danbury asleep yet? She leaned forward and studied the older lady’s face. Hard to tell.
“…and Judas begat Phares and Zara of Thamar, and Phares begat Esrom…”
The old lady’s eyes had definitely been closed for some time now, but still, one couldn’t be too careful.
“…and Esrom begat Aram, and…”
Was that a snore? Elizabeth’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“…and Aram begat Aminadab, and Aminadab begat Naasson, and…”
Elizabeth closed the Bible and began to tiptoe backward out of the drawing room. Normally she didn’t mind reading to Lady Danbury; it was actually one of the better parts of her position as companion to the dowager countess. But today she really needed to get back home. She had felt so dreadful leaving while Jane was still in such a tizzy about the prospect of Squire Nevins entering their little family. Elizabeth had assured her she wouldn’t marry him if he were the last man on earth, but Jane hadn’t been very confident that anyone else would ask, and—
THUMP!
Elizabeth nearly jumped out of her skin. No one knew how to produce more noise with a cane and a floor than Lady Danbury.
“I am not asleep!” Lady D’s voice boomed.
Elizabeth turned around and smiled weakly. “So sorry.”
Lady Danbury chuckled. “You’re not in the least bit sorry. Get back over here.”
Elizabeth suppressed a groan and returned to her straight-backed chair. She liked Lady Danbury. She truly did. In fact she longed for the day when she could use age as an excuse and carry on with Lady D’s signature brand of outspokenness.
It was just that she really needed to get home, and—
“You’re a tricky one, you are,” Lady Danbury said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“All those ‘begats.’ Hand-chosen to put me to sleep.”
Elizabeth felt her cheeks grow warm with a guilty blush and tried to phrase her words as a question. “I don’t know what you mean?”
“You skipped ahead. We should still be on Moses and the great flood, not that begat part.”
“I don’t think that was Moses with the great flood, Lady Danbury.”
“Nonsense. Of course it was.”
Elizabeth decided that Noah would understand her desire to avoid a protracted discussion of biblical references with Lady Danbury and shut her mouth.
“At any rate, it matters not who got caught in the flood. The fact of the matter is that you skipped ahead just to put me to sleep.”
“I…ah…”
“Oh, just admit it, girl.” Lady Danbury’s lips spread into a knowing smile. “I admire you for it, actually. Same thing I would have done at your age.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. If this wasn’t a case of “damned if you do and damned if you don’t,” she didn’t know what was. So she just sighed, picked up the Bible, and said, “What portion would you like me to read?”
“None of it. Bloody boring, it is. Haven’t we anything more exciting in the library?”
“I’m sure we must. I could check, if you like.”
“Yes, do that. But before you go, could you hand me that ledger? Yes, that one on the desk.”
Elizabeth rose, walked over to the desk, and picked up the leather-bound ledger. “Here you are,” she said, handing it to Lady Danbury.
The countess flipped the ledger open with military precision before looking back up at Elizabeth. “Thank you, my girl. I’ve a new estate manager arriving today and I want to get all these numbers memorized so I can be sure he isn’t robbing me blind in a month’s time.”
“Lady Danbury,” Elizabeth said with the utmost sincerity, “even the devil wouldn’t dare to rob you blind.”
Lady D thumped her cane by way of applause and laughed. “Well said, my girl. So nice to see a young one with a brain in the head. My own children—Well, bah, I’m not going to get into that now except to tell you that my son once got his head caught between the bars of the fence ’round Windsor Castle.”
Elizabeth clapped her hand over her mouth in an effort to stifle a laugh.
“Oh, go ahead and giggle,” Lady Danbury sighed. “I’ve found that the only way to avoid parental frustration is to view him as a source of amusement.”
“Well,” Elizabeth said carefully, “that does seem a wise course of action.…”
“You’d make a fine diplomat, Lizzie Hotchkiss,” Lady Danbury chortled. “Where’s my baby?”
Elizabeth didn’t even bat an eyelash. Lady D’s abrupt changes of subject were legendary. “Your cat,” she emphasized, “has been sleeping on the ottoman for the last hour,” she said, pointing across the room.
Malcolm lifted his furry head, tried to focus his slightly crossed blue eyes, decided it wasn’t worth the effort, and settled back down.
“Malco
lm,” Lady Danbury cooed, “come to Mama.”
Malcolm ignored her.
“I have a treat for you.”
The cat yawned, recognized Lady D as his primary source of food, and hopped down.
“Lady Danbury,” Elizabeth scolded, “you know that cat is too fat.”
“Nonsense.”
Elizabeth shook her head. Malcolm weighed at least a stone, although a good portion of that was fur. She spent the better part of every evening after she returned home defurring her clothing.
Which was really quite remarkable, since the snobby beast hadn’t deigned to let her hold him in five years.
“Good kitty,” Lady D said, holding out her arms.
“Stupid cat,” Elizabeth muttered as the ecru-colored feline stopped, stared at her, then went on his way.
“You’re such a sweet thing.” Lady D rubbed her hand against his furry belly. “Such a sweet thing.”
The cat stretched out on Lady Danbury’s lap, lying on his back with his paws hanging over his head.
“That isn’t a cat,” Elizabeth said. “It’s a poor excuse for a rug.”
Lady D raised a brow. “I know you don’t mean that, Lizzie Hotchkiss.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Nonsense. You love Malcolm.”
“Like I love Attila the Hun.”
“Well, Malcolm loves you.”
The cat lifted his head, and Elizabeth would swear he stuck his tongue out at her.
Elizabeth stood, letting out an indignant squeak. “That cat is a menace. I’m going to the library.”
“Good idea. Go find me a new book.”
Elizabeth headed for the door.
“And nothing with ‘begat’!”
Elizabeth laughed in spite of herself and headed across the hall to the library. The clicking sound of her footsteps disappeared as she stepped onto the carpet, and she sighed. Good heavens, there were a lot of books here. Where on earth to start?
