In a Perfect Mess With the Marquess

by Hazel Linwood

  “Amelia is joking,” their mother cut across her sharply, just as Lord Calperton was about to reply. “Weren’t you, Amelia? You play Mozart and Beethoven most assiduously.” She shot her a look.

  “Yes, Mama.” Amelia’s eyes were on her plate again. Martha felt her temper flare.

  “You like Mozart, too, don’t you, Mama?” she said before she could stop herself. “And even you said that his preludes were not challenging at all.”

  Her mother’s eyes widened as she turned toward her. Martha feared that she might have apoplexy. She felt her knees lock, not sure what was going to happen next.

  “I never play Mozart anymore,” her mother said tightly. “And I hardly ever play the pianoforte. When one has two daughters, one never has the time for such things.” She beamed winningly at Lady Gracefield.

  Martha let out her breath as her mother turned to talk to Lady Gracefield, the two of them suddenly deep in discussion.

  “Lady Martha?” she heard a voice by her ear. It was Lord Calperton. She turned around to look into his handsome face, feeling a pulse beating slowly in her throat.

  “Yes?” she murmured. He was very close to her and suddenly it was difficult to breathe.

  “Could you pass me a spoon? I’m afraid I dropped mine under the table.”

  “Oh!” Martha moved instantly to pick up her spoon. “Here you are.”

  “Thank you,” he said.

  He took the spoon from her and their fingers met around the metal. Martha reddened. She looked up at Lord Calperton, who had gone pale. His eyes looked a little surprised, mirroring how she felt.

  She tried to say something, like you’re welcome, but the words were tight in her throat, blocked by the lump of emotion that she suddenly felt.

  She heard Lady Gracefield turn to ask her a question, and while she was answering her, she heard Lord Calperton turn to Amelia.

  “Lady Amelia, what do you like to play on the pianoforte?”

  Amelia looked up from her soup and Martha thought she had the same expression as an animal shot by hunters. She looked terrified, and Martha couldn’t blame her. Whatever she might say, their mother would clearly dissect it mercilessly. She had an idea.

  “Mama? Did you tell Lady Gracefield about your trip to the village?” she asked brightly, trying to distract their mother so Amelia could answer.

  “Oh! Yes,” their mother said with a smile. “Did I tell you I found the most wonderful blue velvet? I want to have it made up into a long evening gown.”

  While Lady Gracefield and her mother talked about fabrics, Martha looked to see that Lord Calperton had succeeded in enticing Amelia into a discussion about music. It was her biggest passion, and Martha was delighted to see her having a chance to air it. She tucked the tiny pang of envy away in her heart.

  She glanced at Lord Calperton. In profile, he seemed even more handsome than when he was full-face, with a fine nose, well-molded lips and those beautiful dark eyes. She realized she was staring and looked at her plate.

  “More soup, My Lady?” the footman asked her.

  Martha shook her head.

  As the footmen were coming in to remove the plates and bring new ones for the second course, Haley walked in.

  “Lord and Lady Garret, and Lord Alton,” he announced.

  Martha heard Amelia’s gasp before she turned around. She glanced at her sister, and saw her eyes stretching wide, her face white.

  He’s here! How did he do that?

  Martha wanted to grin. How had Lord Alton managed to sneak in uninvited? She looked sideways at Amelia to see a flush in her face as she stared up lovingly at Lord Alton.

  “Lord Alton,” she greeted, and Martha saw him bow, green eyes twinkling as they alighted on her.

  “Lady Amelia. I am honored.”

  Martha saw the way they looked at each other and felt her heart flood with light. Her delighted reverie was shattered when her mother stood up.

  “Lord and Lady Garret. Lord Alton. How unexpected of you to arrive.”

  “My apologies,” Lord Garret said, bowing low. “We received your invitation and we had to cancel, since I was staying at the hunting lodge and Lady Garret didn’t know if I would be back in time.” He gestured to his wife, smiling at her. “And, since our dear first-cousin-twice-removed visited, we could do nothing less than bring him with us.”

  “Yes. My apologies at coming unannounced,” Lord Alton said smoothly. He didn’t look in the least bit contrite.

  Martha saw her mother’s eyes narrow, but there was nothing she could say against it, so she had to accept.

  “Glad you could attend,” she said formally. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. We have just finished the first course. Would you like to take the soup? Or go straight to the roast chicken?” She looked at them with a look that could cut glass.

  “Oh, let’s go to the second course,” Lord Garret said easily. “We had a big luncheon, did we not, my dear? We can skip the soup.” He beamed at Lady Garret, who smiled.

  “Fine,” Lady Weston said thinly. She nodded at Haley. “See that three more places are set. And send up three more portions of roast chicken.”

  “Yes, My Lady.”

  Martha could almost hear the laugh from the footmen as they left the room. She looked at the plate in front of her, and tried not to smile. She shouldn’t be so delighted to see her mother thwarted, but her glee was too great to hide.

  She looked up to find Lord Calperton’s eyes on her. She instantly looked down again, focusing on the linen napkin on her knee.

  The evening progressed and Lord Calperton left early, after the dinner. Lord Alton and the Gracefields, though, stayed on, Lord Alton gazing at Amelia adoringly every chance he got.

  Martha sat in her bedchamber a long while after she retired upstairs to bed. She couldn’t sleep, her mind too full of thoughts about the dinner; thoughts too complex and involved for her to be able to fathom them right then with so little sleep.

  One thing she knew for certain was that she was looking forward to seeing Lord Calperton again.

  Chapter 6

  Nicholas held the reins as he rode through the woods. He was riding fast, to clear his head after a particularly annoying encounter with his father over breakfast.

  Damn him! Must he always be so difficult?

  His father had insisted on trying to get every piece of information about the dinner out of him. When it came down to his asking what the meal was and what color the dining room was, he’d lost his temper.

  He’d told him he thought it was red but he was damned if he’d noticed, then pushed back his chair and walked out of the room. He’d gone straight upstairs and changed for riding.

  Now, he realized that he was making his horse gallop uphill, the poor creature’s chest heaving. He slowed to a walk, patting his horse in apology.

  “Sorry, Moonbeam,” he said apologetically. His horse neighed and Nicholas felt as if he could fully understand his indignation.

  He didn’t need to make others suffer, just because he was fuming with temper.

  He kept him at a walk as they reached the hilltop.

  Nicholas shivered as he looked around, though it was not particularly cold. The forest was dense here and quiet. Trees grew close together and there was no noise, as if the forest held its breath.

  He held his cloak closed around him as he rode slowly forwards. He had no idea why, but he felt unnerved here. He was still on the path, but he had never been in this part of the woodlands before.

  “It’s just a clearing,” he said to himself crossly.

  He couldn’t see anything he should be frightened of.

  He was trying to calm down, when he heard a sound coming from the forest to his left. He instantly tensed, all his hair standing on end.

  It was a high-pitched sound, followed by a thump. The high-pitched sound resumed, and another thump echoed resoundingly around the clearing. Nicholas drew in a breath.

  It could be outlaws. You’d do best
not to stay here.

  He felt his back stiffen. If it was outlaws, he would not let himself be cowardly about it. He should go and challenge them, or at least he should not be too afraid to do so. If it was a beggar or someone in distress, he wouldn’t forgive himself if his fear kept him at bay.

  I’ll just go a little closer.

  Leaning forward, patting Moonbeam’s neck, he headed on towards the source of the noise. They hadn’t gone far when the noise started up again.

  This time, he recognized the high-pitched sound as words.

  It was a woman’s voice.

  Nicholas rode forward, worry outweighing his fear suddenly. As he did so, he caught sight of a fence on his right. He stared through the fence, and to his surprise, he saw a house, surrounded by trees. He blinked with surprise. It was not a big house, but it had two floors. It was a manor house of some sort, if a small one.

  Odd. Nobody told me anyone lived in these woods.

  He felt the urge to dismount, to go and investigate the place. Yet something also warned him not to get close. There was a neglected, haunted air about the place and he felt his hair stand on end again.

  Nonsense. It’s an old house in the woods.

  There is nothing to be afraid of.

  All the same, he stayed on his horse and rode around the side of the fence, from whence the sound had come.

  He stared.

  There was a lady standing by the fence. It was clearly a lady, for she was wearing a cream-colored riding cloak, and a long skirt. She had a stick in her hand—something more like a staff or branch—and she was beating on the fence with annoyance.

  “Dash it! Get out of there!”

  He gaped in confusion, and then heard his horse step on a twig, and she also did, because she looked sharply round at him. She stared, and he gasped. He recognized her.

  “Lady Martha!”

  “Lord Calperton…” she stammered.

  They both looked at each other in rank amazement for a moment, and then her gaze dropped to the forest floor, cheeks bright scarlet.

  Nicholas dismounted, and went over to her, his horse staying where he was on the pathway, not interested in escape.

  “Lady Martha,” he said, bowing low to the ground. “I’m sorry to come upon you unawares. But…may I ask, what is this place? And how is it that you are here?”

  Lady Martha was even paler than usual, the blush giving way to the chalk-white paleness of fear, or anger. Her eyes held his and he thought he saw a tear trembling there, though her face was defiant.

  “Don’t tell anyone, please?” she said. Her voice wasn’t light as usual—rather, it was frightened.

  “Lady Martha! Of course I will tell no one. I promise,” he added as she looked at him skeptically. “I won’t ever say I found you here.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. She seemed mollified, because when she looked up at his face, he could see no sign of fear anymore. “I’m only still here because I’m stuck.”

  “You’re stuck?” Nicholas echoed, surprised.

  “Don’t laugh. It’s not funny,” Martha said angrily. Her cheeks were flushed now. This close, he could see a streak of dirt on her face and he wondered what had happened to her. “I fell. I got my boot stuck in the fence.”

  “Oh!” he stared. He looked down. He could see her foot, wearing a slim, elegant boot. It was stuck between the iron supports of the fence. “How did you manage that?” he asked.

  “I fell,” she said. Her lip trembled.

  “You fell?” he asked. He looked at the fence again, and at her foot. It was well and truly wedged, and the only way that she could have got it stuck like that was if she had been climbing the fence.

  “I was trying to get in. Please, please…don’t tell Mama. She’d have apoplexy.”

  Nicholas nodded. He looked down. He wanted to laugh, but he knew she would feel shame. Besides, he wasn’t just amused—more confused, too.

  Why would Lady Martha try and get into the garden?

  “I promise,” he said again. “Now, if you stand and hold the fence, I believe I may be able to help you out.”

  “I was trying to knock my boot out with that,” Martha said, gesturing at the staff, which had fallen to the ground, dropped out of her hand.

  “I see,” Nicholas nodded. “But I think an easier way might be, if you hold onto the fence, and I grab onto your boot, and together we pull…”

  As he instructed her, she did as he said, and he bent to one knee. He drew in a breath as he linked his fingers around her slim boot. He was touching her leg, his head close to her waist. A flood of feelings coursed through his body, and he had to hiss a breath through his teeth to let them out. He couldn’t believe what being this close to Martha did to him.

  “And, when we count three…” he said, making himself breathe slowly. “Pull.”

  Martha counted with him, and when they reached the third number, she leaned back and he leaned back, gritting his teeth to pull on the boot. With a heave, it shot out of the gap, and Lady Martha toppled back, falling down onto the leaves.

  “Lady Martha!” he said, horrified. He turned to her, but after a brief frown on her face, she instantly started chuckling.

  “Oh! Oh, dear me…” she laughed, shoulders shaking. She was smiling, her pale lips stretched to show her teeth, and Nicholas found himself staring at her lovely skin, at her eyes crinkled so sweetly in a smile. He had noticed before that she was beautiful, but out here she looked radiant and full of life, and he was amazed by her.

  “Lady Martha,” he managed to say, though he himself was also chuckling now. “Are you unhurt?”

  “Quite likely, yes,” she winced, and shifted to try and stand up. Without thinking, he went to take her hands and dragged her up to standing. She came up to his shoulder, and she tilted her head back, looking him in the eyes.

  Nicholas held her gaze, and found himself longing to kiss her. He was drowning in the depths of her eyes, and with her soft hands in his, it was impossible to resist the urge to lean forward, to press his lips to her pale cheek…

  “Oh! It’s getting late, isn’t it?” Martha murmured, moving away. Her cheeks were red, and she wrung her hands in the skirt, seeming nervous. Nicholas, suddenly jerking back to his senses, went red. He had almost kissed her!

  “Where has your horse got to?” he asked, trying to distract her, and himself.

  “She went off the path. I’m a fool,” Martha said crossly. “I should have tied her reins up. I’m such a fool.”

  “No, you’re not,” he said. He could see she was tired, and distracted. He also knew that she was frightened, and he wished he could find out why.

  Why was she here? And why would her mother be so angry if she knew?

  He understood that, as ladylike accomplishments went, housebreaking was probably quite far down on the list. But apart from that fact, why would Martha’s mother have such antagonism about a young lady being naturally curious? He was curious about the house, too. No, he sensed there was more to Lady Weston’s possible shock at her daughter climbing fences.

  “I need to get home. Mama will have noticed I’m gone. Heaven knows if Miss Millway, my riding instructor, has gone back, to tell her I’m missing! She, um, got lost on another path.” She looked shy. “Mama will be so angry with me!”

  She was crying again, and Nicholas couldn’t just stand there. He reached into his pocket and took out his handkerchief, then passed it to her.

  “Please, My Lady. Allow me to help. I will escort you home. If anyone asks, we met up on the path and you showed me the lake, and that accounts for the time that your ride was lengthened by.”

  “No,” she said, and her voice was even more fearful. “Please. Don’t come in with me. If Mama thought I’d been alone with you, she’d…” she sniffed, her eyes really frightened. “Best if you turn around at the garden wall.”

  Nicholas nodded, but his curiosity was greater than ever now. “As you wish, My Lady,” he agreed.


  He helped search for her horse, and they found her, quite unperturbed, chewing the leaves of a bush. Lady Martha was delighted.

  “Oh! There you are, you dear girl!” she greeted the horse happily. “I was so worried. We should go back now, and I hope that eating all those green leaves hasn’t given you stomach pains.”

  The horse snorted, and Nicholas grinned to himself. Lady Martha was a most unconventional lady. He found his admiration deepening as she led the horse back to the path, with him walking along beside them both.