Never Marry a Marquess

by Regina Scott

  As if he knew he couldn’t keep her here all night, he released her and helped her rise. His gaze avoided hers.

  “Good night, Ivy. Sleep well.”

  Sleep? How could she sleep? She never wanted to leave his side.

  But she wasn’t really his wife. Not yet. His hesitation proved that.

  She stepped back. “Good night, Kendall.”

  She made her way to her room, but it had never been harder to close the door.

  ~~~

  Kendall sat in the rocker, staring at the glow of the lamp. Sophia murmured in her sleep and rolled over. He did not rush to check on her as he once would have. Ivy had taught him such movements were natural.

  His growing feelings for Ivy felt natural too. When she’d pressed her lips to his, he’d wanted to hold her close, whisper praise in her ear. It had been pure indulgence to rock her in his arms so long. Would loving her truly be a betrayal of his love for Adelaide?

  Sophia rolled over again, and he found two big blue eyes regarding him.

  “Would you blame me one day for failing to honor your mother’s memory?” he asked.

  Sophia blinked, then blew bubbles at him.

  With a smile Kendall went to pick up his daughter. He bobbed her up and down as he carried her to the rocker. “You’re getting bigger all the time.”

  Because Ivy made sure of it.

  Sophia lay her head against his chest, fingers lighting on the silver buttons of his waistcoat.

  “Clever too,” he told her.

  Because Ivy was guiding her.

  Everything good about his life now could be traced back to Ivy. Of course he would fall in love with her.

  And yet…

  At times he wasn’t sure she was happy. Her usually sunny countenance would dim, a sigh breathe out. Surrounded by beauty and luxury, she was still restive. Why?

  And then there was her baking. Petunia’s slips had given Ivy ample opportunity to admit she was the baker. He had praised her work. She had to notice the number of buns and biscuits he consumed. Why not tell him the truth? Was his inability to love driving Ivy away?

  He was still mulling over the idea and the possible solutions when their new man of affairs arrived the next day.

  Mr. Dearborn was a heavy-set fellow with sandy hair curled around his ears and a tendency to mop his brow with decided frequency. Perhaps it was the journey in the hired coach. Travis had reported that the fellow had alighted sweating and trembling, as if the trip from London had been fraught with peril. Or perhaps Kendall’s polite inquiries made him nervous.

  “I have attempted to review your accounts in a certain amount of detail, my lord,” he told Kendall, standing a few feet on the other side of the desk as if to assure Kendall he would never so much as dream of touching the polished surface. “Nothing too intrusive, of course. Sir Alexander has had you in excellent hands all these years. I would never intervene if it wasn’t for your most express wish. It is your express wish, is it not?”

  Kendall leaned back from the ledger the clerk had provided. “It is. Please continue. What did you learn on your review?”

  “It is a vast estate,” the fellow said, wiping his brow again. “Much larger than I realized on first inspection. And you have many investments that bear scrutiny. I believe I am coming to at least a partial grasp of the intricacies of income and expenditure. And as such I believe it wise, nay even prudent, to do nothing at this time. Wouldn’t you agree, my lord?”

  He almost began to miss Alex’s plain speaking. “Let me be sure I understand you. You advise no changes to the estate or my investments at this time.”

  Dearborn scrubbed at his brow, handkerchief becoming limper with each movement. “Yes, my lord. It is only my opinion, of course. Moderation in all things. Haste makes waste. The man who rushes frequently falls. Don’t you agree?”

  Kendall kept his tone civil with difficulty. “And you find no irregularities in the accounts?”

  He stepped back from the desk as if the mere thought was too distressing to contemplate. “Your investments are sound, dare I say cautious? My only concern—well, perhaps not a concern, you understand, but an item of note that might be somewhat telling…”

  “Yes?” Kendall urged.

  He visibly swallowed, and his voice came out shriller. “A slight, a very slight, discrepancy in the household accounts. If you’d like, I could speak to your housekeeper about the matter.”

  Mrs. Sheppard would not suffer this fool gladly. “No need. If you would explain the discrepancy, I will bring it to her attention.”

  “A minor matter, of little significance in an account of your size, and yet, one must consider the lilies of the field, the hair of the sparrow, when keeping an accurate account. Don’t you agree?”

  “Quite,” Kendall snapped. “Out with it.”

  Dearborn blinked. “Well, certainly, my lord. I have rarely been one to equivocate even in such trivial matters. Then again, perhaps no matter is truly trivial. There is more money expended than is accounted for in supplies, equipment, and wages. A minuscule amount compared to what has occurred in the past, truly, nothing to concern…”

  “How much?” Kendall demanded.

  “One hundred pounds in the last six weeks,” he supplied. “Perhaps a little less, perhaps a little more. What man can truly count…”

  “A man who hopes to manage my affairs,” Kendall concluded, rising. “Thank you for coming out, Mr. Dearborn. I agree. We will make no changes at this time. I will expect you again next month. Safe journey back to London.”

  He attempted to transfer the fellow into Travis’s capable hands, but his lead footman merely aimed his gaze over the top of Dearborn’s flattening curls. “And the other gentleman who arrived with Mr. Dearborn, my lord?”

  “What other gentleman?” Kendall asked, turning his gaze on the clerk.

  His new man of affairs hunched in on himself. “I would not call him a gentleman, per se, my lord, though I certainly mean him no offense. He accompanied me for my protection.”

  There came the handkerchief again. Only since Ivy’s arrival had Kendall begun to appreciate the trials of servants. Now he pitied the fellow’s laundress. “And is there any reason for me to address your protector?”

  “Oh, none, none,” Dearborn warbled, but Travis took a step forward.

  “I would be happy to address the fellow, my lord. He seems unusually interested in the estate, Lady Sophia, and Lady Kendall.”

  It was unlike Travis to interject, but Kendall saw his concern immediately. “Find him and bring him to me. Dearborn, you may wait in the entry hall.”

  “But my lord, there is no need…”

  Kendall moved away from the whine, but not before he caught a look of satisfaction on Travis’s usually impassive face. At least his head footman understood that, where Ivy and Sophia were concerned, Kendall would leave nothing to chance.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Travis was swift in escorting the stranger to Kendall’s study. By the crumpled collar on the man’s worn wool coat, their visitor had resisted a little. Now he stood before Kendall, cap in hand but head high and gaze surprisingly assessing. There was something familiar about him, but Kendall couldn’t place it.

  “And what is your business on my estate?” Kendall asked.

  “Just keeping busy while I wait for Mr. Dearborn, my lord,” the fellow answered.

  Standing by the wall, Travis shook his head ever so slightly, gaze on their unwelcome visitor.

  “My staff seem concerned with the topics of your conversation,” Kendall said, leaning back in his chair. “I do not appreciate gossip.”

  “Neither do I, my lord,” he assured him. “Always one to look for the truth of the matter, in my friends, in my family. It’s a trait you ought to practice.”

  “Here, now.” Travis pushed away from the wall. “Keep a civil tongue in your head when you address his lordship.”

  The fellow bowed his head. “I meant no disrespect. If it wo
uld please his lordship, I’ll just leave with Mr. Dearborn.”

  Perhaps that was for the best. Perhaps his conversation had merely been to while away the time. Kendall nodded agreement, and Travis came forward to take the man in hand. As their visitor slipped his tweed cap onto his head, recognition struck.

  “Wait,” Kendall ordered, climbing to his feet.

  Both turned. Their visitor’s gaze was nearly as wary as Travis’s.

  “You were at my wedding,” Kendall accused him.

  The fellow tipped his cap. “I was, my lord. At the request of a friend of yours.”

  That made no sense. What friend of his would send a rough lout like this to a wedding? Besides, he hadn’t told most of his friends he was marrying again. He’d been out of touch with them since Adelaide’s death.

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to do better than that,” he told his visitor.

  The man took a step closer under Travis’s watchful eye. “I work for the Bow Street Magistrate’s Office most days, but we’re allowed to assist others from time to time. Your father had call to use my services.”

  So, this was the man his father had requested investigate the backgrounds of key new staff, business associates, sculptors. Who did the Runner think he was investigating now, and at whose request?

  The realization was every bit as swift and twice as disturbing. Kendall came around his desk. “I give you leave to return to London but relay a message from me to Sir Alexander. If I confirm he sent you here to spy on Lady Kendall, I will discuss the matter with the Bow Street Office myself. Do I make myself clear?”

  The Runner inclined his head. “Yes, my lord.”

  Kendall nodded, and Travis saw him out.

  He returned to the desk. Was there no end to his former solicitor’s arrogance? Was he so certain Ivy meant Kendall harm that he would go to such lengths?

  Or was it truly the finances that concerned him?

  He sat and pulled the ledger Dearborn had left closer. Now that the flaw had been pointed out to him, he saw it too. His expenses had been considerably higher when his father and Adelaide had been alive, yet they hadn’t dipped all that much until about three months ago. That aligned with when he had gone to London for the Season, so perhaps his absence had brought about the change.

  And yet, about the time Ivy had entered Villa Romanesque, there was a decided mismatch between what had been expended and what had been consumed.

  He shook his head. This could have nothing to do with Ivy. She oversaw the household, but she had little to do with the accounting, as far as he knew. Why, she thought she had to economize.

  He had plenty of funds. Even another one hundred pounds in the next six weeks would not seriously inconvenience him. But what if this was the opening salvo, a chance to see whether he would notice before the thief took more, a great deal more?

  Only four people had access to the household accounts—himself, Ivy, Mrs. Sheppard, and his solicitor. If Sir Alex had been sticking a finger in the pie, he might stop now that Dearborn had pointed out the discrepancy, for surely the clerk discussed his activities with his employer.

  Still, it might be time he found someone else to manage his affairs, whether Sir Alex liked it or not.

  ~~~

  “She’s coming!” Belle squealed as she ran toward Ivy, Petunia on her heels. Sophia in Ivy’s arms reached out to grasp at them as they hurtled past, skirts flapping. Very likely the baby had never seen such movement.

  Neither had the formal gardens at Villa Romanesque, Ivy was sure. Jane had brought her three daughters and the dowager duchess to visit. Petunia had showed them the chickens, then set up a game of catch-me-who-can. Larissa had attempted to be above such things, but when Petunia tagged her and pelted off, laughing, she’d joined in the fun as well. Now all four girls were weaving among the low hedges like swallows darting on the breeze, Jane in close pursuit.

  “I’ll catch you!” she warned, narrowly missing Callie as the girl vaulted a shrub, muslin skirts trailing.

  “No, you won’t,” Larissa declared, seizing Petunia’s hand and tugging her to safety.

  “I hope Lord Kendall will allow Lady Sophia to join in when she’s older,” the dowager duchess said beside Ivy.

  Ivy glanced at the baby in her arms. Sophia was bouncing up and down, tiny legs pressed against Ivy’s belly, as if she couldn’t wait. “I believe he will. She’s getting stronger all the time.”

  “And that is to your credit, my dear,” the dowager assured her. “There was every reason to fear she would follow her dear mother. More than one of us thought Lord Kendall would not be far behind.”

  Ivy stared at her as Belle and Callie ran past, intent on escape. “Was Lord Kendall ill too?”

  The dowager pressed one hand to her chest. “Only in the heart. He and the first Lady Kendall were deeply in love, you know. I’m very glad to see he found he could love again.”

  Ivy kept her answering smile pleasant but refused to comment.

  Indeed, what could she say? It had been two days since she’d kissed Kendall in the nursery, nearly two weeks since she’d attempted to dress her hair more elaborately, wear more stylish gowns. For all her hopes, nothing seemed to have changed. He remained friendly, thoughtful, but nothing more. What else could she do to convince him to make their marriage of convenience real?

  “And how go the plans for this wedding?” the dowager asked, watching as her granddaughters veered off in three directions around the center fountain, their laughter carried on the warm air. Jane lunged forward and slapped her hand against Petunia’s back, then dashed away before Ivy’s sister could retaliate. Tuny’s shoulders slumped for a moment, then she glanced around and ran after Belle, who was closest.

  “Our baker is ready,” Ivy promised the duchess, glad for the change in topic. “The biscuits and cakes will be delivered the afternoon before. I’m told your staff are prepared to receive and store them.”

  “Excellent.” The dowager cocked her head. “I was hoping I might meet this paragon of bakers.”

  Ivy shifted Sophia between them. “Alas, she is enjoying some time away from her efforts. Perhaps when next you visit. How go the wedding plans on your end?”

  “To your right, Petunia!” Larissa called, pointing her new friend toward Callie. Her sister scowled at her and barely dodged Petunia’s reach.

  “Well,” the dowager replied, “it is small, as weddings go, no more than fifty or sixty people. We won’t even need to open the larger hall. Still, it is a pleasure to have a wedding at the castle. My son is very fond of Miss Thorn’s intended, Mr. Mayes. His late parents leased the estate next to ours along the river. A respectably family. Well thought of.”

  Her family was well thought of, particularly since Matthew had saved the life of the prince. Of course, there were always those who would look down on them for their humble beginnings. Was that why Kendall could not love her?

  Mind still preoccupied, she only half attended to their visitors and her sister as they gathered in the emerald salon for refreshments a short time later. No, it could not be her family that held Kendall back. He had known who she was and had married her regardless of the gulf in their stations. Or was it her background that had drawn him to her? A more aristocratic lady might not have been willing to devote herself to Sophia.

  Yet how could she lament her role? Every day the little girl blossomed more. Only yesterday she had reached for Kendall and said, “Papa!” Ivy would never forget the joy and wonder on his face.

  She glanced up now to find him in the doorway, gaze fond.

  “Come join us, my lord,” she called.

  He came into the room with a nod all around. “I’d be delighted. I don’t think I’ve ever heard my house so full of laughter.”

  “Do forgive us, my lord,” the dowager said with a look to her granddaughters. “Frivolity does appear in our nature of late.”

  Larissa raised her head, and Callie hastily set down her biscuit and made her face more serio
us.

  “No apology needed,” he assured them, stopping beside Ivy’s chair. “It is the sound of joy and nothing short of delightful.”

  “Then we should visit more often,” Jane said with a grin.

  He spread his hands. “You are always welcome, Your Grace.”

  “And you are welcome at the castle whenever it pleases you,” Jane told him.

  “And maybe someday Sophia will be big enough to play with us,” Belle put in wistfully.

  Kendall winked at Ivy before turning to the little girl. “Why, Sophia can play now. Shall I show you her favorite game? It involves a great brown bear.”

  Belle clapped her hands. “Yes, please!”

  Would he really copy Matthew in front of the duchesses, no less? Jane was watching as eagerly as her daughters, though the dowager had a slight frown, as if she wasn’t sure what he was about.

  Kendall slid down onto all fours and growled. Sophia started giggling.

  “She’s laughing!” Callie cried.

  “Laughing, is she?” Kendall asked, turning to thump up to the towhead. “Do you laugh when confronted with a great brown bear?” He growled at her and snapped his teeth.

  Callie reached out and patted his shoulder. “Nice bear.”

  “Me! Me!” Belle cried, and Kendall swung his head and ambled up to her.

  She ruffled his hair, then leaned back. “Now go get Larissa.”

  Her older sister shook her head. “This is a game for babies.”

  “I always liked it,” Petunia said. “I want to be a bear too.” She hiked up her skirts and dropped to all fours. The dowager duchess’ brows shot up.

  But Ivy wouldn’t have stopped her for the world. Petunia thumped along beside Kendall, bumping his shoulder from time to time, like two old friends out for a lark. Together, they advanced on Larissa, who narrowed her eyes at them.

  “I am the queen of the bears,” she announced. “And I command you to get her!” She thrust out her finger at her stepmother.

  Kendall and Petunia obligingly turned to Jane, who pressed her hands to her cheeks. “Oh, no! Two bears! Whatever shall I do? Will no one help me?”