He picked up his glass and raised it. “To Edgar,” he said. “The best of us.”
They both stood and raised their glasses. “To Edgar,” they answered. And they drank.
It was early. Much too early. But despite the hour, that was not the only toast they made. They stayed at Bradley’s all day, sharing stories about Edgar and working their way through the bottle of whiskey.
They drank until their sorrow ebbed into something else and by the time evening rolled around they were laughing so hard their guts hurt. They wanted excitement. Something more than liquor to numb the hurt.
So, at Bradley’s suggestion they stumbled across town to a ball being thrown by one of Bradley’s cousins. They made a show of looking sober at the door, and quickly went in search of more liquor.
The music. The dancing. The women. They were welcome distractions. After an hour, Bradley led Philip back into the foyer so that they could make a serious attempt at stealing a bottle of single malt whiskey from Bradley’s cousin’s liquor cabinet.
But just as he pulled the bottle free, a woman walked through the foyer towards the ballroom. She stopped when she saw the two of them and they froze.
“Oh sweet Lord,” Bradley whispered.
Oh sweet Lord, indeed, Philip thought. His lips parted and he just stared.
The woman quirked a brow, no doubt thinking them quite foolish, then continued on into the ballroom silently.
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A Marquess’ Forbidden Desire - Preview
Chapter 1
Lady Marianne Purcell, Daughter of Baron Westlake
“You see, mother, it is absolutely essential that I take a trip to Bath for a short while. To summarize-” Marianne paused and looked back over her shoulder at her servant, Miss Becky Cole. “Am I doing alright?”
“Yes, my Lady, very well indeed! Please go on.”
Marianne nodded and looked back at the mirror. She watched her own face as she spoke, looking for faults. She wanted to see resolve, conviction and strength. And she thought she could see it. Lurking in her emerald eyes.
“To summarize,” she went on. “Going to Bath will afford me a much needed break from the stresses of London. It will give me the chance to see a place I’ve never been and broaden my horizons. Perhaps I may even learn something from the experience and return wiser than ever before.”
She took a breath.
“You often say that I am too young in spirit. Too unworldly. Then allow me to become worldly. Give me this opportunity and you will not regret it.” In conclusion, she gave a firm, assertive nod and spun back towards Becky.
Becky clapped wildly. “Bravo, my Lady.”
Smiling, Marianne curtsied. “Thank you, thank you, you are too kind.” She waved her hand forwards and touched her cheeks, as though she was a flattered performer receiving a standing ovation.
Becky laughed and so did she. A bright tinkling sound that her mother often said made her sound like an infant. But she didn’t mind too much. Not when she was with Becky at least, who was more of a friend than a servant.
She hopped onto her bed, where Becky was sitting, and bounced on her knees. “Oh my dear, do you truly think they will let me go?” She said, showing a glimpse of teeth as she bit at her lip.
“I do not know how they could refuse, my Lady. I am entirely persuaded.”
Marianne squeezed her hand thankfully and smiled. “I do not think you needed very much persuading.”
“That is true,” she answered, smiling bashfully. “But I believe that I would be persuaded regardless of my own personal interest in the matter.”
“I do hope they feel the same way.” She took another steadying breath and looked at her bedroom door. They would go down for dinner at any moment.
“Are you very nervous?” Becky asked, with a sympathetic furrow between her brows.
“A little,” she admitted. “I want this terribly.”
“But?”
“But mother will not like it,” Marianne said.
Becky nodded, but didn’t say anything else. It wouldn’t have been right for her to remark on Marianne’s mother’s temperament.
And Marianne appreciated her restraint. Though her mother, the Baroness of Westlake, had a reputation for being a little cold, she remained her mother. And Marianne loved her dearly.
“She is only cautious,” Marianne said. “She likes to play by the rules, but she isn’t callous. She can be very loving at times.”
“I am sure,” Becky answered, but her smile appeared a bit stiff.
Marianne knew that her mother could be especially mean-spirited with the servants, so she couldn’t blame Becky for her uncertainty.
“Would you fix my hair?” Marianne asked, as she touched a curl that had sprung loose from its holdings.
“Certainly, my Lady.” Becky sounded relieved to be free of that particular conversation. Marianne crossed the room to sit beside the mirror and Becky began to pin back any curls that had become loose.
As she sat there, she thought about her mother and tried to recall a time that she had been loving. It was quite a struggle, but after a moment the words sprung to her lips. “There was that time that she allowed Lilia and I to take the best horses riding. Do you recall?”
Miss Lilia Dartmouth was her best friend, who Marianne often visited. But it was rare that she came to see Marianne, because her mother didn’t like her. To this day Marianne didn’t know why. Lilia was the sweetest girl she’d ever known.
Marianne often wondered if her mother didn’t like Lilia because she gave Marianne a taste of true freedom. Lilia’s parents didn’t much care what Lilia got up to. They trusted her. And Marianne envied her terribly for the privilege of her parents’ trust.
“Yes, my Lady. A very kind thing for her to do,” Becky said, though her voice did not have much energy in it.
Yes, it had been kind of her mother to allow that. Though after a moment or two, Marianne recalled that Lilia had brought her cousin with her.
An extremely wealthy cousin that the Baroness had been keen to marry off to Marianne’s sister.
Frowning, she had to wonder whether her mother had ulterior motives when she’d allowed them all to go riding with the best horses that afternoon.
She didn’t rectify her statement. Only tried to smile at Becky again in the mirror and forget that they’d ever discussed the matter of her mother’s kindness.
It was a rather depressing conversation. Still it was better to think about that than her current state of anxiety.
Marianne thought again of the conversation she would soon broach with her parents and felt nervousness slither through her belly.
Becky must have felt her stiffen or shiver, because she caught her eye in the mirror and said, “It will be fine, my Lady.”
“Yes,” Marianne answered, though she didn’t sound entirely convinced. “I’m sure it will be.”
***
Lord Alexander Anthony Redmond, Marquess of Riversdale
“Absolutely not.”
“How can you say that?” Julius responded.
Alexander continued packing, but Julius was having none of it. He planted his hands on the back of the case and slammed it shut.
“Don’t you see, Alexander? This is our last moment of freedom. To be shared as the best of friends, sowing our wild oats all across England.”
“It is only Bath,” Alexander answered. He tried to pry open the case, but Julius bore down on it with his full weight. He was a stocky man. Strong and well-built.
“Only Bath? No, no, no, my poor naïve friend. It is not only Bath. It is a symbol. A symbol of liberty. Have you heard much of the women in Bath?”
Alexander tried not to let his amusement show. He gave his friend a bored look. “I have no interest in the women in Bath. When I choose a wife, it will be under my father’s bidding. He does not know of any women in Bath.”
“I am not talking about choosing a wife,” Julius retorted, with
a broad and impish smile. “I am talking about sampling the goods of the nation. How are you ever to make a sound decision without first taking a sample?”
“You are the devil himself,” Alexander answered, but his lips were twitching into a smile. “They are not appetizers to be sampled.”
He pinched Julius’ bicep, causing him to jump up off the case. Alexander opened it again and resumed packing, but his friend wasn’t through.
“Oh, but they are! We are young, my friend. Young and strong and intelligent. They are appetizers to be sampled, just as we are. And I hope to be sampled many a time before this finger of mine is bound to another’s.” He gestured to his ring finger, with a look of distaste.
“And in the meantime I will not allow my friend to waste his precious moments of freedom. You must come with me to Bath. I will not take no for an answer.”
“But no is my answer.” He spoke with so assertively, but Julius was not a man who was easily dissuaded. He was stubborn to a fault, as this moment was proof of.
“Give me one good reason,” he retorted.
“I will give you several. Firstly, I have not seen my mother since the start of the term. She misses me and I miss her too. That is two reasons in and of itself.”
“I will only count that as one and I will say that your mother is a strong and clever woman. She would want you to have some fun.”
Alexander rolled his eyes and put up two fingers. “My second reason. I am to take up the position of Marquess of Riversdale and it is integral that I prove myself ready for duty as soon as possible. My father is not a patient man.”
“All the more reason to keep him waiting! Let us teach him patience at last!”
Alexander expelled a big breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Will nothing convince you?”
Julius crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you have any better reasons?”
He tried to summon them. He was certain there must be many more but as he stared at his friend, none came to mind. Slowly, he started to smile and shook his head in resignation. “Alright. Damn you, but alright. I’ll go to Bath with you.”
Though he was a scholar of Oxford, Julius punched his hand into the air like a spoilt adolescent. “Yes. You will not regret this, my friend.”
“Will you allow me to finish packing now?”
“But we must discuss our intentions. There is so much to do and a month is such a short time.”
“A month?” Alexander retorted. “I cannot stay for a month, Julius. A couple of nights at most.”
“A couple of nights? You must be mad. You can’t see Bath in two nights alone.”
“Julius,” he said, in reprimand. “I will not be budged on this.”
Oh, but he would. Julius kept at him for a solid hour until he relinquished. They would stay for the a few days, provided that Julius agreed to attend the folk fair with him.
He’d heard passing rumors about it and had always been keen to attend. Julius wasn’t impressed. He said that the folk fair was for children and the elderly. But in time, he conceded.
“Very well,” he said, nodding. “We will leave tomorrow morning and you will return home in a few days’ time.”
“And we will see the fair,” Alexander added.
Julius huffed out a breath. “Fine, yes, we will see the fair. And sow our wild oats.”
“I wish you would stop saying that.”
“Saying what?” Julius responded, with a twinkle in his eye. “Sowing our wild oats?”
“Yes, that.”
“Whatever is wrong with saying that? That is what we mean to do.”
“That is what you mean to do. I will do no such thing. Now leave me to pack.”
Julius stepped towards the door and opened it. Alexander resumed his packing for the final time. But before Julius closed the door, Alexander heard him mutter in a mischievous voice, “We will see, my friend.”
Chapter 2
Lady Marianne Purcell, Daughter of Baron Westlake
“Mother. Father. I have a request to make of you tonight.” Her voice was shaking.
Perhaps she was the child they thought her to be. She cleared her throat and took a sip of water, but before she could speak again her sister interjected.
“You are full of requests, aren’t you?” She remarked, looking bored already. Her sister’s name was Eliza and she was three years older than Marianne.
A fact that she lorded over her incessantly. “It’s rather unfair, you know, that she is afforded so many granted requests, while I have none.”
“You have just added to your wardrobe, my dear,” her father said.
“Yes, you mustn’t forget that,” her mother added.
“Hardly a request granted,” Eliza snorted. “That was a necessity, given that I am to be trawling through another London season.”
“Trawling?” Marianne said, momentarily distracted. She found it quite astounding that Eliza was so dispassionate about the London season, given that she was in such want of a husband and that Marianne would have died for the privilege of participating.
Marianne was of age, of course, but her mother was adamant that Eliza must be the first to marry. On those grounds, Marianne was kept a stranger from society during the London season.
Nobody wanted to upset Eliza, least of all Marianne. And she could think of nothing more upsetting for her sister than for Marianne to be married first, or to have a man fall in love with her.
Eliza had rejected gentleman after gentleman and had seen three London seasons already. Each more disappointing than the last. On most occasions, she found the gentleman to be too poor for her liking, or of too low rank. On other occasions, it was the gentleman who lost interest when they learnt of Eliza’s… materialistic character.
That was the nicest way Marianne could think to put it.
“Yes, trawling.” Eliza responded. “You can’t imagine what it is like to have so many gentleman throwing themselves at your feet. It exhausts my tongue to turn them all away and I find it awfully insulting.”
Marianne frowned. “Insulting?”
“My, you always do ask a lot of stupid questions.”
“Be kind to your sister,” their father interjected.
Eliza rolled her eyes, but continued on. “It is insulting because they think themselves my equal, when most of them don’t have a penny to their name.”
“What about Lord Gavin? I thought that he was rather wealthy.”
This exasperated Eliza even more so. “You really have no idea, do you?”
Marianne didn’t answer. She looked down at her food and started pushing it around with her fork.
“You had something you wanted to ask, my dear?” Her father said. He was looking across the table at her, with a soft and encouraging look on his face.
Had she forgotten so easily?
Marianne swallowed and put her fork down. “Yes,” she said quickly, surprised by her ability to speak. “Yes, well you see I was wondering if you might allow me to visit Bath for a few days.”
She heard a clatter. Her mother had dropped her knife and fork and was staring at her, hard, across the table. “Now, of all times? You can’t be serious, Marianne. We are in the heat of the London season. An integral time for your sister.”
“Yes, but-”
Her mother cut her off. “And by yourself? Do you truly have no idea of the dangers out there?”
“Well I-”
“Besides, what could you possibly want to do in Bath? An atrocious request. I won’t hear any more of it.”
With that, she picked up her cutlery and resumed eating. Out of the corner of her eye, Marianne could see Eliza smiling. And for the life of her she couldn’t work out why. But it gave her an idea.
She turned to face Eliza. “But Eliza thinks it’s a grand idea, don’t you Eliza?”
Eliza had a mouthful so she couldn’t speak at first, but her countenance made it quite clear that she thought it was an awful idea that didn’t benefit her in
the slightest.
Marianne put her hand on hers against the table and squeezed. “Because of course if I’m not around, you can focus your attentions fully on Eliza and the London season. I won’t be around to get in the way.”
Marianne saw a light flicker on in Eliza’s mind. She swallowed her mouthful and looked at their mother, nodding quickly. “Oh yes, a splendid idea!”
A Wicked Scandal For The Bluestocking (Steamy Historical Regency) Page 29
