How to Marry a Marquis

by Julia Quinn

  And she certainly didn’t want to see James.

  She rose, dressed, then just sat on her bed. A strange malaise had come over her. The previous day had been so exhausting in every way; her feet, her mind, her heart—everything refused to work now. She’d be happy if she could just sit there on the bed, not seeing anyone, not doing anything, for a week.

  Well, not happy. Happy was a stretch. But what she was feeling was certainly better than what she’d be feeling if someone knocked on the door and—

  Knock-knock.

  Elizabeth looked up. “Just once,” she grumbled at the ceiling, “just once couldn’t You grant me one small favor?” She stood, took a step, then looked up again, her features slipping into a decidedly disgruntled expression. “As favors go, this one would have been very small.”

  She yanked open the door. Susan was standing in the hall, her hand raised to knock again. Elizabeth didn’t say anything, mostly because she had a feeling she wouldn’t be proud of her tone of voice if she did.

  “You’ve a visitor,” Susan said.

  “I don’t want to see him.”

  “It’s not a ‘him.’”

  Elizabeth’s entire face jutted forward in surprise. “It’s not?”

  “No.” Susan held out a creamy white calling card. “She seems a rather nice lady.”

  Elizabeth looked down, absently noticing that the card was made of the finest, most expensive of papers.

  Mrs. Blake Ravenscroft

  “I assume she’s the wife of the man we met yesterday?” Susan asked.

  “Yes. Her name is Caroline.” Elizabeth ran her hand through her hair, which she hadn’t even managed to pin up yet. “She’s a very nice person, but truly, I’m not up to visitors just now, and—”

  “Pardon,” Susan interrupted, “but I don’t think she’ll leave.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I believe her exact words were, ‘I imagine she doesn’t want visitors, but I’m happy to wait until she feels otherwise.’ Then she sat down, pulled out a book—”

  “Dear God, it wasn’t HOW TO MARRY A MARQUIS, was it?”

  “No, it was black, actually, and I think it must have been some sort of journal because she started to write in it. But as I was saying,” Susan added, “then she looked up at me and said, ‘You needn’t worry. I can entertain myself.’”

  “She said that?”

  Susan nodded and shrugged. “So I’m not worrying. She seems perfectly happy to scribble in her book. I did put a pot of tea on, though, just for good manners.”

  “She’s really not going to leave, is she?”

  Susan shook her head. “She seems a most stubborn woman. I don’t think she’s going to leave until she sees you. I wouldn’t be surprised if she brought a change of clothing.”

  “I suppose I had better dress my hair and go down,” Elizabeth said with a sigh.

  Susan reached over to Elizabeth’s small vanity table and picked up a hairbrush. “I’ll help you.”

  Elizabeth assumed this was a ploy to get information out of her; Susan had never offered to dress her hair before. But the bristly brush felt so nice on her scalp, Elizabeth decided just to go along with it. It was a rare moment indeed when someone waited upon her.

  Elizabeth counted the swipes the brush made through her hair before Susan started asking questions. One swipe, two swipes, three swipes, four—ah, she paused slightly before the fifth, she must be getting ready for something.…

  “Does Mrs. Ravenscroft’s visit have anything to do with the events of last night?” Susan asked.

  Five swipes. Elizabeth was impressed. She’d never thought Susan would last past three.

  Susan pulled the brush through Elizabeth’s hair again. “Lizzie? Did you hear me?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know the reason for Mrs. Ravenscroft’s visit,” Elizabeth lied.

  “Hmmph.”

  “Ow!”

  “Sorry.”

  “Give me that!” Elizabeth snatched the brush away from her sister. “And the hairpins, too. I don’t trust you with any sharp objects.”

  Susan stepped back, crossed her arms, and frowned.

  “It’s difficult to concentrate with you glowering at me like that,” Elizabeth muttered.

  “Good.”

  “Susan Mary Hotchkiss!”

  “Don’t talk to me like you’re my mother.”

  Elizabeth let out a long, weary breath, rubbing her hand over her brow. The morning only needed this. “Susan,” she said quietly, “I will tell you what you need to know when I am able.”

  Susan stared at her for several moments, apparently weighing her words.

  “That’s the best I can do,” Elizabeth added, jabbing the last hairpin into her coiffure. “So you might as well exhibit a bit of grace and try to understand my position.”

  Susan nodded, her eyes darkened with a touch of contrition. She stepped out of the way as Elizabeth exited the room, then she followed her down the stairs.

  Caroline was perched on the sofa in the sitting room, scribbling away in a leather-bound notebook when Elizabeth entered.

  At the sound of footsteps, Caroline looked up. “You’re not terribly surprised to see me, I expect.”

  Elizabeth smiled very slightly. “I wasn’t expecting you, but now that you’re here, no, I cannot say I’m surprised.”

  Caroline snapped her book shut. “Blake told me everything.”

  “Yes, he said he would. I—” Elizabeth stopped, twisted her neck to look over her shoulder, and glared at Susan, who was loitering in the doorway. Susan made haste to depart after such a glower, but Elizabeth turned to her guest nonetheless and said, “Would you care to walk along the lane? I can’t anticipate the nature of your conversation, but if you desire privacy, I strongly suggest we adjourn outside.”

  Caroline laughed. “I love families. They’re so perfectly nosy.” She stood, supporting her lower back as she did so. “I’m sure you wish yours in Greece right now—or farther!—but I never had a family growing up, and I can tell you it’s lovely to have someone so interested that they want to eavesdrop.”

  “I suppose that depends on one’s mood,” Elizabeth allowed.

  Caroline patted her stomach. “It’s part of the reason I’m so looking forward to this child. I haven’t a family behind me, so I might as well create one for the future.”

  They walked out the front door and strolled away from the house, Caroline still holding onto her little black book. When they were out of sight of the cottage, Caroline turned to Elizabeth and said, “I hope you do not feel insulted by James’s actions regarding the bank draft.”

  “I don’t see how else I might feel.”

  Caroline looked as if she had a suggestion, but she closed her mouth, gave her head a tiny shake, and then continued in a different vein. “Perhaps he arranged for the bank draft because he didn’t want you to feel forced into marrying against your heart.”

  Elizabeth said nothing.

  “I’m sure I don’t know the entire story,” Caroline continued, “but I’ve been trying to piece it together as best as I am able, and I believe that you felt you had to marry well to support your family.”

  Elizabeth nodded sadly. “We have nothing. I can barely feed them.”

  “I’m certain James just wanted to give you the freedom to choose whom you wanted. Maybe even to choose a lowly estate manager.”

  Elizabeth’s head whipped around to face her. “No,” she said in a low, shaking voice, “he never wanted that.”

  “Didn’t he? When I spoke to you before the party, it sounded as if you and your estate manager were nearing an agreement.”

  Elizabeth caught her lower lip between her teeth. When James had been plain Mr. Siddons, he had never mentioned marriage, but he had vowed that they would find a way to be together. Elizabeth had assumed his words were sincere, but how was she to trust such words when his very identity had been a lie?

  Caroline cleared her throat. “I don�
�t think you should accept James’s charity.”

  “Then you understand how I feel—”

  “I think you should marry him.”

  “He made a fool of me, Caroline.”

  “I don’t think that was his intention.”

  “It was certainly the outcome.”

  “Why do you think that?” And then before Elizabeth could answer, Caroline added, “I don’t think you’re a fool. I know Blake doesn’t. And James certainly—”

  “May we please stop talking about James?”

  “Very well. I suppose we might as well return to your home, then.” Caroline reached behind her and placed a supporting hand on her lower back. “I don’t seem to have my usual energy these days.” Then she held out her black book, asking, “Would you mind holding this?”

  “Certainly. Is it a journal?”

  “Of a sorts. It’s my personal dictionary. When I come across a new word, I like to jot it down, along with its definition. Then, of course, I must use it in context, or I will certainly forget it.”

  “How interesting,” Elizabeth murmured. “I should give it a try.”

  Caroline nodded. “I wrote about you last night.”

  “You did?”

  She nodded again. “It’s right there on the last page. The last page I’ve written on, that is. Go ahead. I don’t mind if you’ve a look at it.”

  Elizabeth flipped through the pages until she reached the last entry. It read:

  in-ex-or-a-ble (adjective). Relentless; unyielding; implacable.

  I fear that James will prove inexorable in his pursuit of Miss Hotchkiss.

  “I fear it, too,” Elizabeth muttered.

  “Well, ‘I fear’ was really just a phrase,” Caroline hastened to explain. “I certainly don’t fear it. In fact, if I am to be completely honest, I should have written that I hoped James would prove inexorable.”

  Elizabeth looked at her new friend and fought the urge to groan. “Maybe we should just go home.”

  “Very well, but if I might make one last point—”

  “If it has to do with James, I’d really rather you didn’t.”

  “It does, but I promise it’s the last. You see…” Caroline paused to scratch her chin, smiled sheepishly, then said, “I do this when I’m stalling for time.”

  Elizabeth motioned with her hand toward the road home, and they began to walk. “I’m sure you’re going to tell me that James is a perfectly lovely man, and—”

  “No, I wasn’t going to say that at all,” Caroline interrupted. “He’s perfectly insufferable, but you will have to trust me when I tell you that that is the best sort of man.”

  “The kind you can’t live with?”

  “No, the kind you can’t live without. And if you love him—”

  “I don’t.”

  “You do. I can see it in your eyes.”

  “I don’t.”

  Caroline waved her protest away. “You do. You just don’t realize it yet.”

  “Caroline!”

  “What I was trying to say is that even though James did a perfectly awful thing by not telling you his true identity, he did have his reasons, and none of them had anything to do with humiliating you. Of course,” Caroline added with a nod of her head, “I realize that is easy for me to say, since I am not the one who took marquis-marrying lessons from a marquis.…”

  Elizabeth winced.

  “But his intentions were honorable, I am sure of it. And once you get over your anger—your very valid and well-deserved anger”—Caroline looked over at Elizabeth to make certain she heard that part—“you will realize that you will be miserable without him in your life.”

  Elizabeth tried to ignore her words, because she had a sinking suspicion that they were more accurate than she would have liked.

  “Not to mention,” Caroline continued blithely, “that I will be miserable without you in my life. I know no females my age besides Blake’s sister, and she’s off in the West Indies with her husband.”

  Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile, but she was saved from further reply when she noticed that the front door of her cottage was open. She turned to Caroline and asked, “Didn’t we shut that behind us?”

  “I thought we did.”

  It was then they heard the thump.

  Followed by the bellow for tea.

  Followed by a decidedly feline howl.

  “Oh, no,” Elizabeth groaned. “Lady Danbury.”

  Chapter 20

  Lady Danbury rarely traveled without her cat.

  Malcolm, unfortunately, had difficulty appreciating the finer aspects of life outside of Danbury House. Oh, he made the occasional trip to the stables, usually in search of a big fat mouse, but having been raised among the nobility, he clearly considered himself one of their ilk, and he did not enjoy being wrenched out of his cushy surroundings.

  Much to Lucas’s and Jane’s fascination, Malcolm chose to express his ire with a mournful, rather accusatory whine. He repeated this at two-second intervals, with a regularity that would have been impressive had the sound not been quite so monstrously annoying.

  “Maw,” he moaned.

  “What is that sound?” Caroline asked.

  THUMP.

  “The whine or the thump?” Elizabeth returned, letting her forehead fall into her hand.

  “Maw.”

  “Both.”

  THUMP.

  Elizabeth waited for Malcolm’s next “Maw,” and replied, “That was Lady Danbury’s cat, and”—THUMP—“that was Lady Danbury.”

  Before Caroline could reply, they heard another sound, that of feet scurrying very quickly through the house.

  “That, I imagine,” Elizabeth said dryly, “was my sister Susan, fetching tea for Lady Danbury.”

  “I’ve never met Lady Danbury,” Caroline said.

  Elizabeth grabbed her by the arm and hauled her forward. “Then you are in for a treat.”

  “Elizabeth!” Lady D boomed from the sitting room. “I hear you!”

  “She hears everything,” Elizabeth muttered.

  “I heard that, too!”

  Elizabeth lifted her brows and mouthed, “See?” in Caroline’s direction.

  Caroline opened her mouth to say something, then stopped with a panicked glance toward the sitting room. She grabbed her notebook out of Elizabeth’s hands, snatched a quill off the writing table that sat in the hall, and scribbled something.

  Elizabeth looked down and read:

  She terrifies me.

  She nodded. “She does that to most people.”

  “Elizabeth!”

  “Maw.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I can’t believe she brought her cat.”

  “ELIZABETH!”

  “I think you had better go in and see to her,” Caroline whispered.

  Elizabeth sighed, walking toward the sitting room with the slowest steps possible. Lady Danbury would surely have an opinion on the humiliating events of the previous evening, and Elizabeth would surely have to sit still while she gave it. Her only consolation was that she was dragging Caroline along with her.

  “I’ll wait here,” Caroline whispered.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” Elizabeth shot back. “I listened to your lecture. Now you have to listen to hers.”

  Caroline’s mouth dropped open in consternation.

  “You’re coming with me,” Elizabeth ground out, clamping her hand around Caroline’s arm, “and that is final.”

  “But—”

  “Good day, Lady Danbury,” Elizabeth said, smiling though clenched teeth as she poked her head into the sitting room. “This is certainly a surprise.”

  “Where have you been?” Lady Danbury demanded, shifting her weight in Elizabeth’s favorite threadbare chair. “I have been waiting for hours.”

  Elizabeth raised a brow. “I’ve only been gone for fifteen minutes, Lady Danbury.”

  “Hmmph. You grow cheekier every day, Elizabeth Hotchkiss.”

  “Yes,�
� Elizabeth said with a hint of a smile, “I do, don’t I?”

  “Hmmph. Where’s my cat?”

  “Maaaaaaawwwwwww!”

  Elizabeth turned around to see a flash of ecru fur streak down the hall, followed by two squealing children. “I believe he’s currently occupied, Lady Danbury.”

  “Hmmph. Bother the cat. I’ll deal with him later. I need to speak with you, Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth yanked Caroline into the room. “Have you met Mrs. Ravenscroft, Lady Danbury?”

  “That Blake fellow’s wife, eh?”

  Caroline nodded.

  “Nice enough fellow, I suppose,” Lady D allowed. “Friends with my nephew. Came to visit as a child.”

  “Yes,” Caroline replied. “He’s terrified of you.”

  “Hmmph. Smart man. You should be, too.”

  “Oh, absolutely.”

  Lady Danbury’s eyes narrowed. “Are you funning me?”

  “As if she would dare,” Elizabeth cut in. “The only one you don’t terrify is me, Lady Danbury.”

  “Well, I’m going to give it my best attempt right now, Elizabeth Hotchkiss. I need to speak with you, and it’s urgent.”

  “Yes,” Elizabeth said warily, perching on the edge of the sofa. “I feared as much. You’ve never called upon our cottage before.”

  As Lady Danbury cleared her throat, Elizabeth let out a long exhale, waiting for the lecture she was sure to receive. Lady Danbury had an opinion on everything, and Elizabeth was certain that the events of the previous night were no exception. Since James was her nephew, she would surely take his side, and Elizabeth would be forced to endure a long list of his many positive attributes, punctuated by the occasional mention of Lady Danbury’s positive attributes.

  “You,” Lady D said dramatically, pointing her finger in Elizabeth’s direction, “did not attend my masquerade ball last night.”

  Elizabeth’s jaw dropped. “That’s what you wanted to ask me about?”

  “I’m most displeased. You”—she jabbed her finger in Caroline’s direction—“I saw. The pumpkin, yes? A most barbaric fruit.”

  “I believe it’s a vegetable,” Caroline murmured.

  “Nonsense, it’s a fruit. If it has seeds in the fleshy bit, it’s a fruit. Where did you learn your biology, girl?”