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

by Deborah Wilson

  “Did Lord Maltsby order the destruction of your face?” a man from The Herald asked.

  James bared his teeth but was calmed when a hand touched his arm. He turned to find Kim there. He had to hold himself back from burying his face in her throat.

  She smiled up at him. “Did you get him?”

  James nodded.

  Her grip on his arm tightened.

  “Is this your wife, Lord Denhallow?” The Herald writer asked.

  James put a hand at Kim’s back and was glad when she moved closer, filling in the space between them. With a sigh, he said, “Yes.”

  There was another man at his side, young, scribbling on a sheet of paper at a fast pace. He repeatedly glanced at James and Kim before looking down at his paper. James would not be surprised if something of their likeness ended up in the paper tomorrow.

  He would not be surprised at all if he ended up looking like a monster.

  The writer asked Kim a few questions, which didn’t surprise James at all. The public was obsessed with the ton and often wrote pieces on them. Kim answered everything with a grace that seemed to put the listeners at ease. She crafted a love story of sorts that had a few other writers turning to listen as well.

  Even James was caught up in her words and felt them fill his chest with an aching pride.

  Then sometime later, she turned to James and said, “Let’s go home.”

  He ushered her to a hackney and at last, they were alone. “Why did you answer his questions?”

  She smiled at him. “Because, I want the world to know how much I adore you.”

  Leaning over, he kissed her. “I love you.”

  Kim’s eyes filled with tears. “Truly?”

  He was smiling as well, though his brows pulled together in confusion. “Of course, I do. You left me no choice.” He touched her cheek. “From your very first letter, my heart was won.”

  She laughed, and the tears spilled. “I’ve never been gladder that my mother forced me to write to Aunt May in all my life.”

  He kissed her again. “It will be an interesting story to tell our children.”

  She pulled in a breath. “You wish to have children?”

  He frowned and touched her belly. “As many as possible. Do you?”

  She placed her hand on his and held his eyes. “I want that very much.” She moved closer and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you for saving me.”

  “It is you who saved me,” he told her.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  epilogue

  One Month Later

  A shout of excitement went through the room as the clock struck midnight and the music swelled as people removed their masks.

  Kim stared up at James’ face and watched with awe as her husband unmasked himself. Then he lowered his chin and met her eyes.

  They stood in the middle of the ballroom. The chandeliers glowed over his skin and in the depths of his dark eyes.

  Unable to help herself, she reached up and ran her fingers down his cheek. He closed his eyes as she brushed past his marks. His breathing began to rush. People were whispering around them.

  Kim dropped her hand and moved closer. “Ignore them.”

  “I… can’t.” He opened his eyes and began to look around.

  “James, look at me,” she whispered.

  His eyes snapped back to her.

  “I adore every part of you,” she whispered. “Your eyes, your courage, your bawdy jokes.”

  His lips twitched but fell when he swallowed. “But my scars—”

  Her heart raced. “Your scars, I love them the most. They gave me you.”

  He stared at her and continued to do so as the music changed to a waltz. He seemed lost as to what to do.

  “Dance with me, James,” she whispered.

  He took her hand and then placed his other at her back. Then he moved and slowly they glided with the others. Their gazes remained locked and slowly Kim saw him relax and then he smiled.

  James shook his head. “I look at you, see you…” He lowered his voice. “Touch you…”

  Kim blushed.

  He went on. “And still have a terrible time believing you to be mine.”

  “I am here, and I am yours,” she told him.

  “Is that so?” he asked.

  She smiled. “There is only truth between us.”

  His gaze softened and then, in a move that stunned her, James threw back his head and laughed before sweeping her fully across the floor. This was her marquess. marks and all.

  And never in all of Kim’s life had she been so surprised, so grateful, and so in love.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  Keep Reading

  From: Deborah Wilson

  To: Beloved Readers

  Subject: Next book in the series

  Hi lovelies!

  Thank you for reading Mark of The Marquess, which is book 05 in the Valiant Love series.

  The next book is targeted to release on 11th March.

  While waiting for the next breathtaking book in the series…

  I believe you will love to read the previous book in the series, which I had such a good time writing it.

  Flip the page for a special first look at the previous book.

  Thank you for reading my books and letting me serve you doing what I love!

  xx Love,

  Deborah Wilson

  Author of Valiant Love series

  PROLOGUE

  Two Years Ago

  He’d made a mistake.

  Anthony Balfour, the fourth Duke of Castelle, walked briskly out into the night and down the front stairs of the Ayers’ London mansion. He didn’t think twice about his plans to escape the party.

  He passed a few people who were on their way inside. The overwhelming perfumes erased the filthy scents of the street. Some spoke. Others turned their eyes away. Not in disrespect but fear. There were those who took great measures to not gain his attention.

  He stood at the edge of the road and waited for his carriage’s arrival.

  He’d made a mistake.

  It was clear now.

  Lady Beatrix Gillingham was in love—but she was not in love with him.

  He’d heard two maids speaking about it when he’d gone in search of his friend, Benedict.

  Beatrix was in love with Lord Ayers’ second son, Lord Hero. A man who happened to be a general of His Majesty’s army.

  Yet for reasons he couldn’t understand, Beatrix had agreed to marry Anthony instead.

  It was likely she felt forced into it and if there was one thing Anthony would not do, it was force any woman to marry him.

  Though Beatrix had been his last hope.

  Not that he’d loved her.

  Anthony had only loved once, and the experience had ended with bloodshed.

  He’d never love another woman again.

  But he’d wanted other things from Beatrix. He enjoyed her nurturing spirit and her honest heart.

  Honesty was such a rare trait amongst the beau monde. Deception was nearly as important as how one wore their jacket. It even resided amongst families.

  It sickened Anthony to the point that he’d decided many years ago that either he’d wed Beatrix or no one at all.

  It wasn’t as though he cared to pass on the family name or even the family blood. He’d let his cousins fight for the title once he was gone.

  His carriage arrived, and he moved toward it. He decided he would write Beatrix a letter in the morning to call off the entire affair.

  He’d barely settled in before the carriage door swung open once more and Valiant Chase, the Countess of Beaumont, settled into the seat across from him.

  Given a hundred guesses, he’d have thought this particular lady the last to seek him out.

  Though he was invited to nearly every event during the Season—as a formality at best—only a few men didn’t fear him and only a few ladies bothered to engage him in conversation in the hopes of joining him in bed.

  Th
ey liked the danger he presented, murderer that he was.

  Lady Valiant fit into neither category. There had been neither fear nor desire in her gaze, and she rarely said a word to him, if ever.

  He’d known her for years, both being children of dukes and all, but they were by no means friends. They were not even part of the same social circle. She kept her distance from most men, though she was always gracious.

  Dramatic blue eyes held his, gazing at him over a striking nose with a long bridge that, if she wished, could always make her appear as though she were looking down at others. Even with her dainty chin and small pouty red lips, her nose should have left her face wanting, but it didn’t.

  Her blond hair had been artfully done with curls held back and off to the side. A few graced her face from her temples and forehead.

  Had Lady Valiant come in the hopes of going home with him?

  Though he’d never allowed himself a moment to entertain the thought—since he didn’t sleep with married women no matter how much they begged for it and surely never Valiant, with how much her husband seemed to fawn over her at every turn—he did so now.

  His heart raced at the very thought, and he told himself not to rush to such a conclusion.

  He wondered at her presence but decided he would allow her to speak first. He found it better to let others expose themselves before he revealed his own hand.

  She took a breath and folded her hands in her lap. She licked her lips and looked away momentarily. Was she nervous?

  Perhaps she’d come to him for carnal reasons after all.

  His blood began to head south, both disgusting and intriguing him. He didn’t touch married women. Hadn’t in years.

  She looked at him again. “I can’t allow you to do this.”

  He’d never noticed the quality of her voice before, but now he realized just how much he liked it. Soft and velvety. Feminine.

  “You can’t marry Lady Beatrix. She is in love with my brother.”

  Ah, so she’d come to play hero for her brother Hero.

  Anthony should have known that was why she’d come to him.

  She hadn’t seemed the sort who wished to test danger.

  Yet, clearly, she would for her family.

  A pang touched his chest, but it didn’t hurt enough to quiet his growing arousal.

  He was both glad and angered that she’d not come to him for sex.

  The tightening around his lungs was also something he didn’t enjoy. He put his annoyance into his voice. “The lady has already agreed to the match.”

  Why didn’t he tell her he was going to call off the wedding and be done with this conversation?

  Perhaps, it was because he rarely had a chance to speak to women like her.

  Soft.

  Graceful.

  Honest.

  Though he was certain Lord Beaumont found great pleasure with her in bed—for what man wouldn’t if he was married to her?— Anthony was almost certain that sharing any of his desires with her would make her faint.

  He didn’t know why he was so certain, but there seemed to be an innocent air about her.

  And he had to question her intellect, for she courted danger out in the middle of the night alone.

  “I will do as I please,” he said, wishing he could say more.

  Her eyes widened at his words. “But she doesn’t love you.”

  “I’m not looking for her love.” He wasn’t. Doing so would be foolish.

  “But don’t you wish for a wife who loves you?”

  He chuckled. “My lady, I’m a duke. Beatrix is the daughter of an earl. That is all that I require.”

  She looked pained at the thought and stared down at her hands. “That’s very unfortunate, Your Grace.”

  Another pang. “If this is the only reason you’ve come…”

  Her head came up. “Why else would I have come?”

  She genuinely wished to know, and it showed her naivety. Her innocence.

  He was suddenly very tempted to test her innocence. The fact that she’d not used more caution irritated him just as much as it infuriated him that he cared at all.

  He leaned forward. “Oh, there are many reasons a lady would seek me out. Care to learn?” He stopped a breath before her.

  And sure enough, her skin paled right before it colored. Then she said the most bizarre thing he’d ever heard in his life. “You wish to bed me?”

  “Bed implies that I need one, which I don’t. I could take you right here in this carriage.”

  Her perfectly pink mouth fell open in surprise. “But I would be no better suited for you than Beatrix. I don’t love you.”

  He stared at her and then he threw back his head and laughed. The force of it pushed him back onto his side of the carriage.

  The only other lady who’d ever made him laugh was Beatrix.

  Valiant was so innocent and beautiful. The fairest of them all.

  “Bedding does not require love, Snow White,” he told her. The laughter faded as he was reminded once again of the lady’s love for her husband. Was that the reason for her bizarre ideology about sex? If so, then Beaumont was a saint.

  Still, he noticed something flash in her eyes at his words before she lowered her gaze again. “Of course…”

  Of course?

  Now he was curious.

  She looked up. “Why did you call me Snow White?”

  “Because, you remind me of her.” The German tale had been written a few years ago. “Innocent. Naive for venturing out here when the world thinks me dangerous.”

  She lifted a brow. “Are you my huntsman then?”

  My huntsman.

  Did she even know what she’d just implied? Likely not. He had no ambitions of cutting the lady’s heart out. Instead, there was another part of her he was beginning to want. He pulled himself away from those thoughts.

  She thankfully returned them to their former discussion. “You can have love if you want it. You’re not wed yet. Call off this match and find another.”

  “What if I’m content with who I have?” He wasn’t. Not anymore.

  “But you can have more,” she pressed, seeming so certain of it. “Please, let Beatrix go.”

  He shook his head even as he thought he’d give anything to have a woman fight for him as hard as Valiant fought for her brother. For her friend Beatrix.

  At that moment, he decided he wanted her gone, out of his presence. She’d already begun to foster unease within him. He was almost sickened by her perfect family. Her self-sacrificing notions showed just how much his own family had lacked any morals.

  But how to push her away? Or better, how to test her virtuous limits?

  Valiant straightened. “Do this and you will always wonder at what you missed by not having the one who completed your soul.”

  Completed his soul?

  He laughed again, but this time, it was forced. “My lady—”

  “Lord Cartelle.” She’d cut him off. A shocking maneuver. She was getting too comfortable for his taste. “I am telling you, if you do this, it will be the biggest mistake of your life.”

  He stiffened as her declaration hit him with the strength of a prophecy. Who was this woman? She clearly knew nothing about him if she thought he’d not yet made the biggest mistake of his life. Every other mistake from here forward was just that… a mistake.

  Still, her words had left him unsettled, and he was glad he’d already decided to call off the wedding.

  * * *

  Valiant Chase took one long, deep breath after another, though she schooled her features to not show her fear. Or at least, she hoped she managed to hide it.

  Everyone knew how fatal it could be to test Lord Cartelle’s ire, though she’d yet to hear anything as it pertained to women. Only men ever seemed in great peril, since women could not be called into a duel.

  So, she’d watched him leave and then followed.

  She hadn’t realized how large Cartelle was until they were in the confines
of the carriage. She’d only ever seen him in a ballroom, a large space with tall columns and elongated decor that dominated everyone.

  Yet in the carriage, he looked more like a caged beast, and his scent and heat had engulfed her the moment she’d entered. This was clearly his domain, and she should have known better than to enter it.

  His silver eyes managed to strike out with his every unyielding gaze, and the black hair that framed his hard visage blended into the shadows of the carriage, making him all the more menacing.

  Beautiful.

  Frightening.

  But she was not here for herself. She was here for her brother and the woman she’d grown to love as much as a sister.

  Hero and Beatrix deserved happiness.

  Even if Valiant only ever managed to have fleeting glimpses of it.

  “Get out,” Cartelle suddenly said. “My affairs are none of your concern.”

  It bothered her how easily he thought to dismiss her after getting into her face and alluding to… intimate acts.

  She’d never heard such words before. Since she had been old enough to listen and understand. she’d always felt the need to put herself in the middle of everyone’s affairs. Her brothers often told her to stay in her place, but Valiant’s heart knew no place. She could not help but try and aid everyone around her.

  Including Cartelle, it seemed.

  He clearly didn’t think a woman could love him.

  Which wasn’t true, since Valiant had heard that very day of a lady who was obsessed with the very idea. The young woman, who’d just debuted this year, saw Cartelle as some dark hero. An angel of death, both heavy on the angel and the death.

  Valiant didn’t agree. She only saw darkness.

  But if one lady could love him…

  A thought struck her, and Valiant had a brilliant idea.

  “Break this engagement with Beatrix, and I will aid you on your hunt to find love.” Though there would be no hunt. If Beatrix worked quickly, she could have the lady with Cartelle before the end of the week. The very thought brightened her night.

  Cartelle’s brows furrowed together. “Impossible.”

  “Not at all,” Valiant said, feeling better by the minute. “Let Beatrix out of her vow to you, and you will know what it is to have everything.” A moment of longing tried to touch her heart, but she banished it. It was always better to think of others, to solve the problems of those around her so that she didn’t have to bother with her own life. It was an escape mostly, but what better escape than to make someone else happy?