Never Marry a Marquess

by Regina Scott

  The dowager duchess waved a hand and settled herself in her chair as if prepared to watch the fun. Kendall followed Ivy. Very likely he wasn’t about to let Sophia out of his sight.

  Together they accompanied Belle along the silk-draped corridor.

  “She’s very good,” the little blonde warned, “so you have to hide and be very, very quiet, even you, Lady Sophia.”

  Sophia’s blue eyes were wide.

  “Should we be playing?” Kendall murmured to Ivy with a look to his daughter.

  “Absolutely,” Ivy assured him. “It’s never too early to start learning how to play well with others.”

  Belle pointed to a suit of armor standing in a niche. “That’s a good place. She didn’t find me there last time.”

  Still Kendall hesitated.

  “Go on,” Belle urged. “There’s room. She’ll finish counting soon.”

  As if to prove it, a loud voice came from the withdrawing room. “Ten!”

  Belle ran to duck behind the long curtains on the window at the end of the corridor, leather slippers sticking out in plain sight. Ivy grabbed Kendall’s hand and pulled him behind the armor, hunkering down as best she could with Sophia in her arms. The space would be wide for a six-year-old girl in hiding. Two adults and a baby made for cramped quarters. Kendall had to wrap his arms around her and Sophia. His sable hair brushed her temple, his breath caressed her cheek.

  And suddenly it was very hard to breathe.

  Jane strode out of the withdrawing room, hands on her hips.

  “Now, where could they be?” she asked the corridor stretching out in front of her. “Look out, my lovelies. You know I hate to lose.”

  From the end of the corridor came Belle’s bright giggle. Sophia wiggled as if trying to see where the sound was coming from, and the armor rattled as she brushed it.

  Jane’s eyes narrowed, and she stalked closer. Kendall obviously didn’t like to lose either, for his arms tightened until he and Ivy were pressed together, his body warming her through her muslin gown. It was all she could do to keep hold of Sophia as her limbs felt liquid.

  Jane made a show of looking all around, and Sophia’s little head turned as she watched.

  “Home free!” Callie’s voice echoed from the withdrawing room.

  “Oh!” Jane stomped her foot. “There’s one. Now, where are the rest of them?” She glanced right, left, deep into the niche. Ivy clung to Kendall.

  “Here I am!” Belle cried, popping out of hiding.

  Jane hurried along the corridor to meet her, and Ivy drew in a breath.

  “Stay quiet,” Kendall murmured, as if their lives depended on Jane not finding them.

  She would not have called out for the world. Even Sophia cuddled close once more.

  Larissa materialized from the stairwell. “You are supposed to make her find you, Belle.”

  “I know,” Belle said, secure in Jane’s embrace. “I just didn’t want her to be disappointed. I can tell you where Lord and Lady Kendall are, if you like.”

  Jane laughed and led them back toward the withdrawing room. “I have a feeling Lord and Lady Kendall don’t want to be disturbed.” She winked at the armor as she passed.

  Kendall climbed out of hiding, face flushed, then turned to help Ivy and Sophia as well. “Interesting game.”

  Did his lordship sound the least bit breathless?

  “Very,” Ivy said and hoped she didn’t sound breathless as well.

  They all returned to their seats. Jane settled in next to His Grace, who slipped an arm about her shoulders. But Larissa wasn’t finished with their lesson.

  “I was right,” she said from her spot on the sofa beside Callie. “You didn’t see us, but nothing changed.”

  “True,” Jane allowed, head resting on her husband’s arm. “But there’s one other person still in hiding, and I imagine a few things will change when that person comes out.”

  Belle frowned. “Who?”

  “I’m not sure,” Jane said. “But about Christmas time, you will be joined by a baby even smaller than Lady Sophia.”

  The three girls stared at her.

  “You will shortly have a brother or a sister,” His Grace explained.

  Ivy’s heart leaped. “Oh, congratulations!”

  He smiled at his wife.

  Belle was still frowning. “Where is the baby coming from?”

  Callie pointed to Jane. “Mrs. Winters said babies come from inside their mothers.”

  Belle looked thoroughly shocked.

  Larissa’s face tightened. “The baby will be yours. Not like us.”

  His Grace stiffened, and Callie’s face puckered.

  “You are all my children,” Jane assured her. “I will love this baby as much as I love you—no more, no less.”

  Larissa didn’t look convinced. Concern was gathering on His Grace’s face, and Kendall shifted as if uncomfortable with the entire conversation.

  Ivy cleared her throat, and all eyes turned to her. “Sophia is not my baby. But I love her with all my heart. Nothing and no one could change that.”

  Beside her, Kendall put a hand over hers. She wanted to close her eyes and live in the touch.

  Jane nodded. “You all know I loved my Jimmy. But I love your father and you as much. That’s the wonderful thing about love. It only grows.”

  Larissa came and hugged her then, and so did Callie and Belle. The dowager went to wrap her arms as far as they would go around the five of them. Sophia put out both hands as if she wanted to join in too.

  Kendall’s face was stiff, his smile formal. Ivy would only hope this display would help him realize his heart was large enough to accommodate more.

  Especially her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  How easily they loved.

  Kendall couldn’t quite accustom himself to it. His father had done what he could with his two sons, and Nurse Wilman and their tutors had been encouraging, for the most part. Adelaide had filled a hole in his heart with her bright smiles and quick conversation. But no one he knew smiled and hugged and just seemed so very happy to be together.

  Except Ivy.

  He found it hard to leave her side when His Grace requested a moment of his time to review the plans for the weir.

  “She’ll be fine,” Ivy whispered when he hesitated, and he could not tell her that it wasn’t Sophia for once who had given him pause. He excused himself and followed the duke from the room, leaving the ladies to visit.

  His Grace was tall and slender, sharp of mind and word. For as long as Kendall had known him, he’d held his power in a velvet grip. Now there was a new surety about him, a man who knew who he was and what he was meant to do.

  “Allow me to add my congratulations to Lady Kendall’s,” he said as they descended to the ground floor.

  The duke’s smile was warm and wistful. “Thank you. I’ve never been particularly good about waiting for Christmas, but this time it will be all the more difficult.”

  Very likely. He’d waited for Sophia’s birth with anticipation, only to lose Adelaide in the process. Then again, His Grace had lost his first wife on the birth of little Belle. Would he be the one person who could understand Kendall’s dilemma?

  He made himself focus as they went over the plans spread out on the table in His Grace’s massive library. Kendall was glad to offer his support. As they straightened, he cleared his throat. “I wonder, would you be willing to discuss a personal matter?”

  It was a gamble. Though they had lived in the same area all their lives, he was five years the duke’s junior. They had attended the same school, but in different classes. They shared only a desire to protect and prosper the holdings they had been bequeathed and those who depended on them.

  Perhaps it was that newfound surety that made the duke incline his head. “Certainly. How might I be of assistance?”

  Kendall drew in a breath. “Like me, you lost a wife in childbirth. How did you move on?”

  He eyed Kendall a moment.
“In truth, I didn’t. I left my daughters in the care of their grandmother, devoted myself to my responsibilities, certain that was my role as their father. Jane showed me fatherhood could be so much more.”

  Kendall nodded. “Yes, Ivy is showing me the same thing.” His smile was slipping despite his best efforts. “But in marrying your Jane, did you feel no guilt in leaving behind the memory of your first wife?”

  He spread his hands. “She left me behind, through no fault of her own. Evangeline would want her daughters well cared for.”

  “And their father?” Kendall pressed. “There is such a thing as mourning.”

  The duke’s lean face softened. “Ah, you forget. Evangeline had been gone six years before I met Jane. It’s been less than a year for you.”

  “So you think, with time, these feelings of betrayal will ease?”

  He lay a hand on Kendall’s shoulder, grounding him to the carpet. “Betrayal is a hard word. Did your wife love you?”

  “Absolutely,” Kendall said. “Without question.”

  The duke peered into his face. “Then wouldn’t she want you to be happy?”

  He should be able to answer that question with equal certainty, but he hesitated. In truth, there had been moments when Adelaide had been absorbed with her own happiness. He hadn’t blamed her. She had been a sickly child, according to her parents, so moments of joy were something to grasp, to cling to. If his own happiness was sometimes forfeit, that had been a small price to pay to see her smile.

  But did it follow that his own happiness must always be forfeit now?

  “You give me much to consider,” Kendall said. “Thank you.”

  The duke pulled back his hand. “Life has enough sorrow, Kendall. Take the joy when it is offered, and don’t question it. I nearly lost Jane by doubting her. Don’t make that mistake. If you care about Ivy, honor her as your wife, and let the past go.”

  ~~~

  The Season ended July thirtieth with the closure of Parliament. In anticipation, Daisy had written Ivy about the upcoming house party. Ivy had been firm in her refusal, going so far as to include one of the cards Mrs. Sheppard had ordered her, labeled Ivy, Marchioness of Kendall. She’d also written to Matthew to alert him to any schemes her sister might try to force Ivy’s hand. Only Petunia had written back, meaning Daisy was having a fit of pique. Ivy couldn’t mind. She had enough to concern her without worrying over her volatile sister.

  For one thing, Sophia had come down with the sniffles. Of course, Doctor Penrose had been summoned on the first sneeze. He had examined her and prescribed rest and plenty of liquids. That hadn’t stopped Kendall from having a cot installed in the nursery so he could be on hand should Sophia need him day or night. If concern over the baby’s labored breathing hadn’t kept Ivy awake, the thought of Kendall sleeping just next door would have.

  Then there were the preparations for the wedding. She and Mrs. Sheppard had devised a plan to bake the cakes and biscuits two days before the reception, then transport them by the landau to the duke’s estate. But that meant coordinating Sophia’s care with the baking and the use of the landau with Kendall’s expectations for their travel to the wedding, without alerting him to her baking.

  And then Tuny arrived.

  Though her littlest sister had Ivy’s blond hair and brown eyes, she shared Daisy’s more cynical nature. Ivy blamed Mrs. Bateman. Their stepmother had taken a liking to Tuny, who had been about Sophia’s age when their father had remarried. The new bride had loved billing and cooing over the baby, handing Petunia to Ivy or Daisy for changing and feeding and dealing with new teeth and trouble sleeping through the night. Only when Tuny had developed opinions of her own had their stepmother begun giving her chores and treating her worse than a servant, like her older sisters.

  Ivy smiled as Tuny climbed down from the carriage Kendall had sent for her sister and stared up at the great house.

  “It’s like a cake with white icing,” she marveled before turning her gaze to Ivy’s. “We should bake one while I’m here.”

  Ivy glanced quickly to Kendall, who had come out with her to greet her sister. Dark circles wreathed his eyes, and his beard was just a bit on the rough side. But he interpreted Tuny’s remark as Ivy had hoped he would.

  “We have a talented baker on staff,” he told Petunia as they started for the door. “I’m sure she’d be delighted to make whatever you like.”

  “Once the wedding is over,” Ivy hurried to add. “We wouldn’t want to overtax her.”

  Inside the entry hall, Tuny once more stopped to glance around. Then she whistled. “So many doors and stairs. How’d you remember what’s where?”

  Kendall bent to put his head on a level with hers. “You see that fellow?” he asked with a nod to Travis by the door. “You’ll find him or someone like him sprinkled about. Ask one where you want to go, and he’ll take you right to it.”

  Tuny stuck out her lower lip as if impressed. “All Miss Thorn has is a butler.”

  “And we have a housekeeper,” Ivy said, nodding to Mrs. Sheppard, who came forward.

  “Welcome to Villa Romanesque, Miss Bateman,” she said.

  Tuny giggled. “I’m not Miss Bateman. That’s Daisy’s name now that Ivy’s married.”

  “You are every bit as important here as your sisters,” the housekeeper assured her.

  And that was all it took for Petunia and the housekeeper to become friends. Tuny had Travis and Mrs. Grunion in her pocket almost as quickly. She even won a smile from Percy, who had been given responsibility for helping her dress while she was visiting.

  “I don’t know how you do it,” Ivy told her when they descended the stairs for dinner that night. Petunia had been put in the room down the corridor from hers and Sophia’s. “It took me weeks to feel as if they were comfortable with me.”

  “You just have to be nice,” Tuny said, hem of her muslin frock bouncing on the stairs.

  “I’m nice,” Ivy protested.

  Tuny considered that a moment, brow furrowing. “You’re quiet nice,” she finally said. “I’m more loud nice. Sometimes that helps.”

  It certainly did. Kendall seemed pleased to have her with them, but then he had always gotten along with Tuny. Ivy didn’t want to envy the way her sister made him smile at the dinner table that night.

  “Sophia was much improved when I looked in on her before dinner,” Ivy ventured when the conversation lulled.

  The smile he gave her was worth the wait. “Doctor Penrose said she should be back to her usual self by tomorrow,” he agreed.

  “I can’t wait to meet her,” Petunia said.

  His smile tightened just the slightest. “When we know she is well. We wouldn’t want you to come down sick.”

  “I’m never sick,” Petunia bragged. “Ivy takes too good care of us. Or else, she did before she came here. Now we have Charlotte.” She heaved a sigh. “I love Charlotte, but she has no idea how to make cinnamon buns.”

  “More mashed potatoes, Tuny?” Ivy asked, motioning to Travis to serve her sister. She purposely ignored the curious look on Kendall’s handsome face.

  It wasn’t until they were heading for bed that she finally had a moment alone with her sister. They were both in their long flannel nightgowns, and Ivy had dismissed Percy for the night. She knew Kendall was with Sophia, so she kept her voice low.

  “I must ask you not to talk about my baking in front of Lord Kendall,” she told her sister.

  Tuny frowned. “Why? It’s not a shameful thing.”

  “In his world, it is. Ladies don’t dirty their hands.”

  “Why? Do they wear gloves?”

  Her sister was ever the literal one. “No, Tuny,” Ivy explained. “They don’t go anywhere near the kitchen. No cooking, no baking. They have servants—dozens of servants—to do it for them.”

  “What if the lady’s a better cook than they are?” Tuny challenged.

  “She learns to hide her talents,” Ivy said. “Mrs. Sheppard, Mrs. Grunion, an
d I have an understanding. I use the kitchen to bake, and they keep it quiet.”

  Tuny slumped. “Oh, good. For a moment there, I thought you were telling me no more cinnamon buns. I’ve been waiting weeks!”

  Ivy hugged her. “For you, always cinnamon buns. There will be some for breakfast. Just don’t ascribe them to me in front of Lord Kendall or any of his friends.”

  Tun straightened, wrinkling her nose. “Lord Kendall. Didn’t his parents give him any other name? Charlotte calls Matty Matthew.”

  Ivy blushed. “He prefers his family name, but you must call him my lord unless he gives you leave to do otherwise.”

  “More rules.” Tuny sighed as she slipped from the bed. “I’ll try to remember, Ivy, but I agree with Daisy. Sometimes it’s more than a body can bear.”

  “You are clever and determined,” Ivy said as her sister headed for the door. “I have faith in you. Sleep well.”

  “You too.”

  As soon as her sister was out the door, Ivy wrapped her dressing gown about her, tiptoed to the connecting door to the nursery, and eased it open.

  A lamp had been left burning low. The warm glow bathed Sophia’s little frame, peaceful in her crib. It illuminated the lean form of Kendall, sitting in the rocker, head back, hair disheveled, lips parted in sleep.

  Her heart turned over.

  Ivy moved silently into the room and picked up the blanket from his cot. Carefully, she draped it about his shoulders, covered his strong arms. She was tucking it around his slender waist when she glanced up to find him watching her.

  Face inches from hers.

  The light gleamed in his dark eyes, picked out the copper in his hair. She should explain, wish him goodnight.

  Instead, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

  So sweet, so brief, yet the kiss sent a tremor through her. His hands bracketed her waist, held her gently as he returned her kiss. Her heart ached from the joy of it. She slipped onto his lap, allowed him to hold her. Just a moment. Just for now.

  Together, they rocked, Kendall’s arms around her, her head against his chest. The only sounds were the faint creak from the chair, Sophia’s soft breath. Ivy didn’t want to move.