Mark of The Marquess (The Valiant Love Regency Romance) (A Historical Romance Book)

by Deborah Wilson

  Why do you not pursue it?

  I would truly like to know, but as you said in your own letter, if you do not wish to answer, then simply ignore the question in your next one.

  However, I will say that you’ve no reason to fear telling me anything.

  We are friends, and as your friend, you are safe to share anything and everything with me.

  Just as I hope I am able to share anything with you.

  Like the true reason I have chosen to not marry.

  Kim stopped.

  Should she say?

  She sighed.

  I am not the innocent you claim me to be and know that most men expect their brides to be.

  I have sinned, and it has left me wanting.

  Therefore, in order to live in peace and to give every man who could ever dream to marry me the same, I choose to abstain from marriage.

  Perhaps, that does make me a coward after all.

  I do not know what will happen in this next year, but I want you to know that you will always have me as a friend if you wish it.

  I will write to you if I go to London and make certain you know where to send your letters to me.

  I hope you enjoy the gift I have sent you.

  If not, then please, do not mention so in your next letter as I could not bear the humiliation.

  You see? I am a coward.

  Kim

  * * *

  It was nearly a week later that James slipped his feet into the slippers that Kim had sent him. He recognized the work of a woman who knew her way around a needle and thread but was by no means a professional. She’d embroidered them with pale wreaths and the initial of his first name.

  He smiled, glad he’d shared his name with her.

  He loved the slippers. He’d never had a woman make him a gift before. He’d had lovers who’d thought to buy—force—his hand in marriage, but nothing like this.

  He wondered if it had cost her anything to make them and frowned. He didn’t want her spending her money on him, though he suspected the success of her brother’s investments meant she wouldn’t starve.

  He’d planned on visiting Lady Macy today, but the woman had mentioned her plan to go the assembly rooms in town.

  She’d invited him, and he’d declined.

  He had no intention of parading himself in public and being forced to pretend to not notice those who would stare at him.

  Or even faint at the sight of his face.

  Lady Macy was kind, but there was only so much charity he would take from someone.

  But these slippers were not charity. He knew it to have been a gift between friends.

  He was starting to like the idea of having a woman as a close friend. He should have had more of them before.

  Yet he knew immediately that there were few women like Kim.

  She was special.

  Just as special as the color of her eyes. Now that she’d teased him with their description, he wanted to see them.

  But that could never be.

  One look at his face and Kim would never speak to him again.

  She’d likely resent him for ever writing her.

  He could not allow that to happen.

  She thought her lack of innocence repulsive, but she knew nothing about being repulsive.

  When Mr. Goody’s blade had cut into James’ face, the madman had taken more than his looks.

  He’d taken his life. His joy.

  Except now, he had Kim and her letters. She was his joy. His peace.

  He’d go mad if she ever stopped writing him, if she ever stopped caring about him.

  James would do anything for her.

  Absolutely anything.

  His footman knocked and opened the door.

  James looked up and was about to speak when the man held out a letter for him. He knew it was from Kim even as he wondered why she’d have written so quickly on the heels of her last one.

  He’d yet to write back.

  Perhaps, she knew that he’d have been upset at having to wait a whole week to hear from her— even though he understood she’d waited for the slippers to be complete— and thought to write him two separate letters to make up for the time he’d waited.

  His footman had known that anything from Kim was to be given to him immediately.

  He smiled and took the note, yet as he read, sickness and then terror gripped him.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  0 8

  James,

  There were water marks on the letter. She’d cried.

  The very worst thing has happened. I have heard that one should be careful of what they wish for.

  It appears I will not be going to London. but only because I am to marry Lord Louvell.

  My mother and brother arranged the match for me. For some reason, she believed I wished to have him, and I did not know until the clergyman announced it at service today.

  Today was Monday. She’d written him yesterday.

  James had to stop himself from crumbling the paper in anger as his fingers shook with rage.

  I have paid extra so that this letter would reach you in time.

  I marry in two days and do not believe Louvell will allow me to write to you ever again. He is not cruel, but it is clear he does not care for my wishes since he did not ask for my hand but arranged it all behind my back. He will not enjoy the thought of not having my complete admiration, and I know he’ll be angry if he discovers me writing to another man.

  Especially considering that this other man holds a higher place in my heart than he ever will.

  She married tomorrow.

  She’d said she held him high in her heart.

  “Kimberley,” he whispered. “Do not do this to me.” His eyes burned with sadness, pain, and disappointment.

  I don’t have much time to write. There is much to be done before the wedding, but I must tell you how I feel.

  Though we’ve only known each other for days, I feel a kinship with you that I’ve never felt with anyone else. Your letters have forced me to drop my guard and expose myself, which is something I’ve not been able to do in so very long.

  I’m tired of being something I’m not.

  With you, I feel safe.

  He smiled as emotion pressed in every spare space of his heart, making it nearly impossible for him to breathe.

  But then terror filled him at the next line.

  So, I have a favor to ask.

  Rescue me, James. Stop this wedding.

  How? He couldn’t.

  Though he was a marquess, he had no familiar claim to her.

  The only way to stop the wedding would be if he…

  “Kimberley!” He closed his eyes and groaned.

  He couldn’t marry her. She couldn’t see him. Any safety she felt with him would be shattered once she saw the monster he’d become.

  He opened his eyes.

  And died a little more inside.

  If you don’t wish to help me, then ignore my request in your next letter— if you ever find a way to reach me.

  How could he ever ignore a request like this?

  And then Kim ruined him.

  And even if you don’t come and rescue me, James, know that my heart is full of joy for ever having known you. It is likely you will always have a higher place in my heart than Louvell.

  I nearly laugh that I’ve managed to get something over on Lord Louvell!

  My heart breaks.

  And though you may never hear from me again, you have my friendship.

  It is yours. Always.

  Miss Kimberley Clemens

  She married tomorrow.

  It would take him that long to get to Leeds if he departed at this very moment.

  Perhaps, he could make it in time.

  He had no time to consider his next action.

  He called for his valet, Henry. There was no time to delay. If he changed his mind, he’d simply turn back later.

  But now was a time for action.

  He tr
embled, not from the cold, but from his own nervousness as he climbed into his carriage an hour later.

  He’d had a trunk packed. When his intention to travel to Leeds had spread throughout his household, he’d been aware of the whispering of the servants. Aside from his visits to Lady Macy, he’d not left his home since the incident that ruined his face.

  From the window, he watched the driver, Jackman, bound into his seat with excitement.

  The footman, Byron, also climbed into the seat, the young man grinning.

  How anyone would be happy about a journey in the middle of winter, he did not know.

  He glanced up at his house and saw Mrs. Palmer, Byron’s mother and James’ housekeeper, standing next to Nora, one of the upstairs maids who, before the incident, had never been able to meet James’ eye when he’d spoken, but now avoided looking at his face altogether.

  The carriage jerked forward, and James nearly felt the urge to jump from the carriage, climb the stairs, and bury himself in the safety that was his home.

  But now he realized just how many eyes watched him. He’d known they spoke of him. While prowling through his halls, he’d watched maids grow silent at his approach, their faces reflecting fear as all color would drain from their faces. Had he heard them?

  Oh, he had.

  “I used to never see him... Now, he never leaves.”

  “It’s right to hide... It’s the most gentlemanly thing to do, considering the fright he’d be to children if he roamed the streets.”

  “Bless Lady Macy. Her heart must be rather large to show such kindness… And her stomach very strong.”

  He was making a mistake.

  It would be best for Kim to marry Lord Louvell. Even if the man didn’t care about her wishes, she would adjust. Most husbands usually did as they pleased. At least with Louvell, she’d likely find no trouble consuming her food while sitting across from him at the dining table.

  Why had she done this to them? He nearly resented ever reading her letter.

  Nearly.

  But her letters had filled his life and his heart unimaginably. He would present himself to her as a friend and allow her to make the choice.

  It was the least he could do.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done a kind thing for anyone.

  She was a fool to think she’d be better off with him.

  “Foolish woman,” he whispered, burrowing deeper into the blanket and pressing more firmly against the hot brick beneath his feet.

  He knew nothing about what he was walking into. Lady Macy had shared that her father had been a viscount but nothing more. He’d have to tell Byron to ask around Leeds for directions. Surely, someone would be able to direct them in the right direction.

  Byron was handsome. Perhaps, James should have thought to have someone else present himself as Kim’s rescuer.

  Not a footman, of course. She was, after all, the daughter of a viscount.

  Sillian had yet to marry. He was a titled and handsome man. James could have written his friend, told him about Kim’s plight, but there was no time.

  He had to get to Kim by tomorrow.

  She was his friend. He would be wrong to ignore her.

  But no matter what happened tomorrow, James had a feeling his life would be changed forever.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  0 9

  James stared at the home his driver had stopped in front of and took everything in.

  The house had two stories and wasn’t particularly wide. He was certain that with another foot of snow, the thing would collapse entirely.

  Yet strangely, he could almost see its warm appeal. It stood against a hill, almost as though it had been cut right out of it. Its position made for an intimate setting, which still allowed the sun from the east to shine down upon it.

  Shadows passed in the lights that burned from within. The house was likely being prepared for the day’s grand celebration.

  Though he didn’t know how grand anything could be in such a small house. It would likely be a small affair, as many weddings were. And considering the blistering cold and the amount of snow that had fallen during the evening, he didn’t think many would be venturing from their homes.

  It would likely only be Kim and Lord Louvell’s families present.

  What if Kim had changed her mind? What if her letter had been written in haste and hysterics, but now she regretted what she’d done?

  Don’t be a coward.

  He’d not come all this way to have his carriage turn around. He’d noticed Byron’s curiousness when he’d asked the lad to ask around for directions to the house of a Miss Kimberley Clemens.

  It had taken Byron short minutes to get them, leading James to believe she’d been honest when she’d said she was social in her community.

  And now they were here.

  James fisted his hands and they began to shake. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been anxious for anything. He wouldn’t allow his fear to show now. He’d come as a favor for a friend. He had nothing to be ashamed about.

  James motioned for Byron to open the door then stepped down.

  * * *

  Kimberley stood in her drawing room and, for the first time in her life, thought she might faint. When a maid came over to offer her tea, it took everything within her to keep from vomiting.

  She was getting married, unless James came…

  She was a fool to think he would. They hardly knew each other.

  No, that wasn’t right. He knew her better than most. She’d shared so much with him.

  Please come…

  An inner voice warned her about being mindful of what she asked for, but she put it aside.

  She didn’t wish to marry Louvell. And she’d told her mother that the previous evening.

  “Oh, Kim.” Lady Peckshire had paled. “I didn’t know. I thought he was the gentleman you spoke of. The one you’d already given your heart to. I simply thought you were too nervous to say so. He is handsome and wealthy. And now, it is too late. It was already announced. I thought you’d be pleased.”

  “How could you think that, when I’ve made it clear I do not like him?” Kim had asked her.

  Her mother had shaken her head. “Dear, you rarely speak to anyone about your true feelings.”

  She’d been right. Kim had been nothing but a liar and a secretive person for years. No one knew her, because she didn’t let anyone know her.

  She’d never felt safe to share.

  Except for with James.

  Yet, she’d had no time to wait for a reply to the letter she’d sent about not being innocent. Most men would call her a whore. Did James think that of her now? Would he not come? Was she destined to marry Louvell?

  She heard the knock at the door, and her stomach took another lurch.

  Louvell was very early.

  “Oh, he’s early.” Lady Peckshire stood with a frown. But then she smiled at Kim. “Don’t worry. As soon as the clergyman arrives, we’ll be ready to proceed.”

  Kim was already dressed, but by no means was she ready.

  She wanted to beg Louvell to pull out of this arrangement but feared it would only make him want her more. H

  e would not break the engagement. He’d been far too pleased, going on and on about it after service on Sunday to anyone who would listen.

  The announcement had seemed to warm many in the congregation. She’d been given more well wishes than she could remember.

  There was no getting out of this unless…

  Louvell walked in and stopped at the door.

  Kim pressed her hand to a nearby chair to keep from falling over.

  He looked Kim over, pausing at her cleavage, before lifting to her eyes and grinning. “Are you ready to become the luckiest wife in all of Leeds?” Louvell rarely left Leeds. He’d called London a place for the unrefined, but Kim thought it had something to do with his lower rank. He was not a peer but a knight. He would not have been given all the privileges of a peer if
he went to London.

  “She is!” her mother affirmed over Kim’s pounding heart. “She’s simply a little nervous.” Her mother gave her a meaningful look before she moved away to speak with a maid.

  She’d warned her last night. Now that there was nothing Kim could do to stop this wedding, if she wished to be happy in it, it was time to start pleasing Louvell. She

  smiled, which seemed to encourage Louvell to come closer.

  He laughed. “I can understand your nerves, but you’ve nothing to fear.” In a lower voice, he said, “We shall get along well, my innocent songbird.”

  The words strangled her. Would he call off the wedding if she told him the truth?

  There was noise from the entryway. Someone screamed.

  Louvell turned around and glared. “Whatever could—”

  A man appeared in the doorway to the drawing room. Long dark hair covered his visage.

  And then he turned his head. She blinked, unsure what she was seeing. There was something wrong with his face.

  “Oh!” Louvell took a step back. “What is that thing?” he whispered.

  Kim wasn’t sure.

  Dark eyes swept the room before settling on her. He moved closer until he was just over the door’s threshold. The lamplight made what had been done to him clear.

  His face was marked with terrible jagged lines, making his forehead, cheek, and chin pull in in a ghastly way. The lines were pale, nearly glowing in the light like fish scales in the sun.

  His black eyes were nearly as frightening as the rest of him.

  He was taller than most of the men Kim had ever met. His size made the already tiny room seem smaller. He was well dressed in a black suit that defined his strong and lean form well. His shirt and cravat were also black. The tips of his hair brushed his shoulders, the black so true that it was hard to say just how long his hair was. The black made him appear to be in mourning.

  The effect made him seem deadly.

  Fear kept her rooted in place as his eyes continued to hold hers.

  Somewhere in the room, she heard her mother scream and move to stand behind a chair.

  Louvell also moved and it was only a moment later that Kim realized he’d shifted to stand behind her.

  Using her for a shield.

  It did not surprise her that he sought to preserve himself. Was this what she should expect from her marriage?