by Alanna Lucas
“Are you certain—”
“Oh my,” she whispered as she sat forward slightly.
“What? What’s the matter?” He started to stand. “Should I send for—”
Tugging on his hand to keep him from leaving, she reassured him, “The baby is kicking quite intensely this afternoon.” She brought his palm to her stomach. A moment later, a firm nudge pressed against the spot where it rested.
His eyes widened. Awe and utter joy coursed through his veins. “That’s our baby.”
Since their Twelfth Night wedding nearly a year ago, he had come to terms with the past. He’d forgiven Arthur and Olive for their deceitfulness, and prayed his brother and sister-in-law were, at long last, at peace. He was embracing his future with Patience and Clara, and their growing family.
“They’re here! They’re here!” Clara’s voice, along with Max’s high-pitched yip, cheered through the house.
He helped Patience up, then pulled her into a warm embrace, showering kisses around her lips.
“What was that for?” she asked, a delicious pink blush staining her cheeks.
“For bringing the spirit of Christmas back into the house.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “For not quite giving up on me, even when I was most determined to become a hermit.” He brushed a kiss across her cheek. “For loving me.” The kiss that followed was slow and enticing, sending a thousand tingles in every direction of his body. He had found his soul, his love.
“Ahem.” He reluctantly eased back from the kiss to find his mother standing in the doorway. “Perhaps you did not hear,” she started with a tease as laughter filled her voice, “but they’re here.”
He and Patience followed his mother to the sound of chatter and laughter emanating from the Great Hall as their guests arrived.
Patience’s giddiness was contagious, her smile reaching from ear to ear as she rushed toward her siblings. “I’m ecstatic you’re finally here.”
Greystone watched as she embraced her brother and sister, and their children. His heart lurched, but before the heartache of the past could creep its way back, Patience reached out her hand to his, bringing him within the folds of her family. And in that moment, he truly believed his heart had grown three sizes.
Chapter One Excerpt from When the Marquess Returns
When the Marquess Returns
By Alanna Lucas
Copyright © 2018 Alanna Lucas
Chapter One
London, May 1819
The moment Maximus, his brother, and their adoptive mother entered the spacious hall of the grand theatre, curious eyes settled on them and murmurs encircled their small party.
Stares were commonplace whenever they entered a room, especially in this new environment. It had always been the case, although the novelty usually wore off within a couple of minutes. However, there was one lady in particular who kept her gaze centered on them, puzzlement streaked across her face. She tilted her brow, looking at them with uncertainty, almost as if she were trying to understand something. She didn’t attempt to approach but continued to peer intently at them.
“Why is that woman staring at us?” Maximus questioned under his breath, barely able to keep the annoyance at bay.
“Perhaps she’s never seen twins before,” Lucius rebuffed.
Maximus and Lucius were not just twins, they were identical and—according to the local girls in the small village close to their childhood home near Plymouth—were “two of the most handsome men alive, and completely swoon-worthy”. It was a moniker that Maximus did not care for, never had and probably never would. He’d rather be known for his intelligence, or skill with a horse, or knowledge of multiple languages, not for something as fleeting as appearance.
“Perhaps you remind her of someone. Just ignore,” Larentia, their mother, said with nonchalance and a slight wave of her hand. “These women of the ton are often far too absorbed in gossip. Besides, we’ve only just arrived in Town. It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with us.”
“Miss St. Albans!” a cheerful voice crescendoed above the crowd bringing even further attention to their party. A rather plump woman dressed in deep purple scurried towards them. “You’ve finally returned to London.”
“Lady Kenton,” Larentia took the woman’s hands in her own. “It has been too long, my dearest friend.”
“Twenty-three years too long to be exact.” The woman’s warm smile settled on Maximus and his brother. “These must be your adopted sons. It is a pleasure to meet you both at long last. Larentia has written to me often of your adventures. Tell me, how did you enjoy your time on the Continent?”
Their time touring Europe felt like a lifetime ago. When their adoptive grandfather announced he wanted Maximus and Lucius to follow in his footsteps and embark on the Grand Tour, the brothers were just nineteen and—in Maximus’s opinion—naïve about the world beyond Plymouth. It had been a time of great personal growth for each of them. He’d enjoyed visiting new places, experiencing local customs, honing his drafting skills, and spending time with his brother, but he’d always longed for more. However, before he could conclude what ‘more’ encompassed, they’d been summoned home.
So much had happened since they’d returned two years ago.
“It was most enjoyable,” Maximus answered in a tone he hoped did not invite further questions. He was not in the mood for reminiscing, for sharing those intimate details of their travels, with someone he’d just met.
His brother on the other hand…
“I particularly enjoyed the opera in Milan, e le belle donne,” Lucius said before adding his infamously charming smile that quite frequently landed him in trouble.
“Ricorda il nostro accordo,” Maximus warned under a hushed tone as Lady Kenton watched their exchange with interest. The brothers had already argued once today about Lucius’s indiscretions since arriving in London a few days previous.
Lucius raised a brow in defiance, but kept his tone jovial. “Lei non capisce l’italiano.”
“Oh my, and you both speak Italian?” A slight giggle escaped Lady Kenton’s mouth as a deep blush stained her entire face. Turning back to Larentia, she said, “I have not a clue what they are saying, however, I do believe the mamas had best keep a close watch on their daughters with your sons in Town this season.”
Larentia shot Maximus and Lucius her best “behave yourself” warning before clearing her throat. “The play is about to begin.”
“Oh yes, and it should be quite a spectacular performance this evening. Madame Hébert is performing the aria this evening.” The trio followed Lady Kenton up the grand staircase toward her box, passing even more curious eyes. “We’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted later.”
The gentle hum of conversation and general merriment that had filled the theatre lessened—only slightly—as the production began. Even as Maximus tried to focus on the stage and ignore the chatter echoing across the vast gold and green space, his mind wandered, contemplating the disagreement he’d had with his brother earlier regarding Lucius’s current paramour. The woman in question had actually snuck into their townhome and cornered Maximus, believing he was Lucius. Then, upon discovering they were identical twins, offered her services to both brothers. Maximus lost his temper with the woman, which angered his brother.
Why did he and his twin have to constantly be at odds? It never had been this way until their grandfather had passed away and they’d learned they would have to leave St. Albans Manor for London. Looking back, something had begun to change with Lucius that day.
Maximus adjusted himself for the umpteenth time, swiveling this way and that, trying to find a comfortable position. It wasn’t that the seat was uncomfortable, or that he could even place blame on his surroundings—despite all the stares, it was that he was uncomfortable; uncomfortable and restless.
He stretched his legs and, in the process, made contact with his brother’s chair. Two glaring blue eyes met his. “What is wrong with you?” Lucius’s scold rumbled above th
e performance.
He shook his head, brushing off his brother’s question. They’d already had one argument this evening, and he would be damned if they had another—and this one not in the privacy of their home. He couldn’t do that to Larentia…again.
Damn. Why couldn’t he relax?
He turned his focus to the stage, trying to enjoy… Hell, he couldn’t even recall what he was supposed to be enjoying. A long sigh escaped his lips, earning a glare from all in their box. He attempted to adjust his legs again, this time kicking his brother’s ankle. Lucius eyed him with annoyance, his mouth opened as if to argue, then he snapped it shut.
This was pointless.
Maximus left the box before he annoyed his brother further, and ducked into the hall, his muscles instantly relaxing. Perhaps he just wasn’t used to the city. Except for those couple of years spent traveling across the Continent, he had spent little time in any city, much preferring quiet country life. A quick walk should ease whatever was plaguing him.
Strolling casually, ignoring the couple of theatregoers loitering at the far end of the hall, he began to make his way toward the grand staircase. Before he reached his destination, a muffled argument from one of the boxes halted his retreat.
No sooner had the sounds reached his ear when a woman stormed out of the box in question, colliding with him. He wrapped his arm about her waist to keep her from landing on the floor. They stood chest to chest, hearts beating rapidly.
“Oh,” she gasped. “I…” Her words halted as she glanced up at him. Warm vanilla and sweet lavender encircled them.
Maximus stared into the most enticing eyes he’d ever seen—one emerald green, one deep brown. Her compelling eyes riveted him in place as his heart pounded against his chest anew.
Time halted, and energy surged between them. She stared at him with a tender longing.
Who was this woman?
Countless moments later, the lady spoke. “I apologize for ruining—”
“You didn’t ruin anything,” he quickly reassured her, but couldn’t the find words to say more.
Her mouth curved into a beautiful smile, revealing matching dimples, which sent a whirlwind through his world. He’d always had a fondness for dimples. “I…I best be returning to my party.”
“I suppose I should release you,” he said with reluctance.
“Yes, I suppose,” the words brushed past her pink lips with the same reluctance.
Several seconds passed before he actually did release her, his body instantly feeling the loss. Before he could ask her name, she retreated back into the box, leaving him wondering what the hell had just happened. If not for the remnants of lavender and vanilla clinging to his coat, he might have believed he dreamt the entire scene.
He paced a short length several times trying to convince himself he should not sneak into the box and discover her identity. They had not been properly introduced. It would create a scene. In the end, common sense won, and he decided it was best to rejoin his party.
Maximus took in a deep breath, the muscles tightening in chest, as he reluctantly walked back to his box.
“So nice of you to join us again.” His brother’s tone was laced with sarcasm as Maximus entered the loge. “I hope you’ve settled down.”
His patience was being tested at every turn this evening. Before he could remark, Larentia stated, “Lady Kenton has offered to show us around Town later this week. Perhaps we may see the Egyptian Hall.”
Maximus simply nodded as he took his seat. He had other things on his mind presently. He desperately wanted to discover more about the woman he’d encountered in the hall, and what had caused her to be so upset, and….
His heart sank. What if she was married and had quarreled with her husband? If that were the case, it was probably fortunate he hadn’t barged in on her party. Before too long, he had conjured an entire scenario that had him enraged and wanting to call out the bastard who had upset her.
Damn. He needed to stay calm. He didn’t even know her name. What if she wasn’t married? How would he discover her identity without a proper introduction? He pondered the question for several minutes before an idea struck.
As soon as the play finished, he would rush to her box and casually bump into her again. It was a simple plan without the possibility of scandal. He would be able to talk to her again, and with any luck, acquire her name.
With his plan settled, he rather impatiently waited for the play to end. At least this time he knew what was disrupting his senses—a blonde-haired beauty, with the most intriguing eyes, four boxes away.
Loud clapping thundered through the theatre bringing him back to the present. Larentia and Lady Kenton were deep in conversation about the quality of the play and Madame Hébert’s performance, while Lucius seemed distracted by something, or rather someone, near the stage.
Adrenaline rushed through his veins. There was no time to lose. He would worry about the next step once he found her again.
Emerging into the hall, excitement quickly gave way to frustration as his progress was hindered by several parties loitering in the hall engaging in lively talk about the evening’s festivities, both on stage and in the audience. Maximus edged around them and waited near the box the lady had retreated to. With each passing minute, he became more anxious as more and more people filled the corridor. He watched as Larentia and Lady Kenton strolled past, and Lucius disappeared in the opposite direction. He could not be bothered with his brother’s antics at the moment. Besides, he was his twin, not his keeper. He watched as the crowd dispersed and still no one emerged from box number four.
His insides turned as he struggled to formulate a new plan. Perhaps he could enter the loge, mistaking it for his own, claiming he’d forgotten…well, he didn’t know what, he’d conjure some item when the time came. He maneuvered past the strolling guests, sucked in his breath, and pulled back the curtain.
Empty.
A heavy sigh escaped his lips. Where had she gone?
“Renovations on the cottage are almost complete. You’ll finally be able to leave Warrington Hall.”
“I enjoy spending time with Lady March,” Sabina corrected her brother. Plus, she couldn’t imagine being alone day after day, removed from Warrington Hall and those she held dear.
Titus ignored her comment, continuing on to extol the positives of the renovation. “I believe you will be most pleased with the small library,” he said with much enthusiasm.
Since her lifelong dream to marry and have a family of her own would never be, it was nice to know that she would have a lovely cottage, far away from the gossips, to call her own. Despite her circumstances, she still fared better than most spinsters, thanks to her brother. He might be several years younger than her, but once he reached his majority, he had always ensured her future was secure.
Before she could express her appreciation for what Titus had arranged, her sister-in-law—Eunice, interfered. “The final steps into spinsterhood,” she said with a snicker. “And a fitting end for the Cursed Heiress.”
“Eunice, that’s enough,” Titus half-scolded. Sabina could not blame her brother for not taking a firmer approach with his wife. He had to endure her—and their mother—every day he took a breath, not to mention still being in need of an heir. She truly felt for him.
“You shouldn’t take that tone with your wife,” their mother said as she took Eunice’s hand, lovingly folding it within her own.
Eunice raised a triumphant chin before taking another jab at Sabina’s expense. “I suppose living the life of a spinster in the old hunting cottage is better than being at Lady March’s side constantly.” Eunice clearly had learned the disagreeable art of insulting Sabina from her husband’s mother. For two women not related, the similarities and jibes were endless.
As if enduring her sister-in-law wasn’t trying enough, Mother decided it was her turn to chime in, “I still can’t quite comprehend how you managed to swindle His Grace and Lady March into letting you reside
with them all these years.”
Mustering what little bravado she had left in her soul, Sabina retorted, “Perhaps if you had been more—”
Mother’s eyes turned ice cold and filled with hatred. “What? More of a mother?” She clutched her hand to her chest, her performance rivaling those of the actors on stage. “I was grieving the loss of my husband.”
“And my father.” Sabina shook her head, trying to erase the memory of that horrible day and her mother’s unkind words. She did not want to suffer another lecture, followed by an argument, and conclude with more insults. Instead she settled for a plea. “I rarely see you and Titus. Do you not think it possible that we could have a pleasant evening just this once, Mother?”
“I agree with Sabina.” For the second time that evening, her brother came to her defense, but she was certain he would pay the price later.
“Of course, you do,” cried Eunice. “You always side with your dearest sister. You don’t care for me.” Sniffling, she buried her face in her hands.
Or sooner it would seem.
“There, there, Eunice, darling.” Sabina’s mother, the woman who’d given birth to her, who was supposed to love her, was comforting the instigator. Mother raised her gaze to Sabina. “Look what you’ve done.” Hatred blazed in her eyes. “What have I done to deserve a daughter like you? I’ve been cursed since the day you were born.”
The words seared straight through Sabina’s heart, striking at her very core. Tears burned the corners of her eyes as she fought to control her breathing. One would think she would be used to the barbs after enduring so many years of them, but they still hurt. Since her father’s passing, all she had ever wanted was her mother’s love.
Desperate to escape, even if only for a moment to regain her composure, Sabina swallowed the hard lump in her throat, raised her chin, pulled back the curtain, rushed from their box none-too-gracefully, and straight into a wall. Only this wall was warm and smelled like a pleasant autumn afternoon in the country.
