In a Perfect Mess With the Marquess

by Hazel Linwood

  “I think we can do it!”

  Lord Calperton stared at her. She went red.

  “Sorry, Lord Calperton,” she said softly. “But I think we can do this. There’s one chance we can take, when we can all come forward at once.”

  “The ball,” Lord Calperton nodded. “And, please…Nicholas. Not Lord Calperton.”

  Martha went pink. “Yes, Nicholas.”

  Just saying it made her heart turn over. When she looked up at him, he had the sweetest expression on his face.

  She grinned back, feeling shy, and they talked about what they would do from then onwards.

  “I thank you, for taking this time to speak with me,” Nicholas said, when they had finally come to a decision about what they would do.

  “I would not have wanted to spend it on anything else, Nicholas,” she said softly.

  He grinned hesitantly, and she felt herself grow warm inside, as if a fire had been kindled in her insides and filled her with heat.

  “Now,” he said, and he was still smiling, a sweet, gentle smile.

  “Now?” she asked, feeling her heart thud.

  “Now, I reckon I should escort you home. I know…you don’t wish anyone to know you were out. But if we go back together, we can approach the estate from the back and I can leave you safe in the garden.”

  “Yes,” Martha whispered. She flinched as they set off, since she thought they might take the one path she was absolutely forbidden, the one that went past the manor in the trees.

  “Have you ridden much hereabouts?” Nicholas asked her as they walked. They had passed the pathway she was not allowed to take, and they were heading on longer one, which curved back and around past their own gardens, which would lead her safely home.

  “I have ridden almost all the paths,” Martha admitted. “I am fond of riding. I hardly have the chance to go out, now…Miss Millway, my riding instructor, is the one person who can accompany me, and she is only here twice fortnightly.”

  “I see,” Nicholas said, nodding slowly. “And Lady Amelia may not ride with you?”

  “Lady Amelia mayn’t ride.”

  He raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Isn’t that somewhat odd?” he queried lightly. Martha did not feel he pried or scorned, rather that he was just concerned.

  She sighed. “Mama thinks it’s too dangerous for her. I wonder sometimes if it isn’t another way of making her rely on Mama.”

  “That could be so,” Nicholas agreed.

  Martha walked along beside him in silence. The forest was quiet, and she felt suddenly very shy.

  “Lady Martha?” he asked. He turned to face her, and she looked up into his eyes, her face reddening as he took her hand.

  “Nicholas,” she said softly. “And, please…call me Martha.”

  He was looking into her eyes and she felt her heart turn over as he took both her hands in his own. His fingers were warm and soft on hers, the grip firm. She could smell the scent of his pomade, spicy and rich. She felt her heart start to beat faster.

  He reached out and rested his hand on her cheek. The touch was so intimate, so surprising, that she felt her heart miss a beat. His eyes held hers and the look in them was sweet and compelling and impossible to read.

  “My apologies,” he said, and his hand dropped. He let it fall to his side, eyes still on her own.

  “You did nothing wrong,” she said softly.

  He smiled a little sadly. “I suppose I did. But I am not sorry for having done so…only for any harm it might do for you.”

  Martha beamed. “Well, you need not be sorry on that account. I feel quite lovely.”

  They walked together, slowly, him leading his horse, back to the garden. The walk took a long time, and it was getting on for noontide when, at last, they reached the walls of the estate.

  “My Lord,” Martha said softly. “I thank you for bringing me here.”

  He smiled. “It was the least I could do. Also, it was selfish,” he added with a grin.

  “How so?”

  “I spent an hour in your company—a full hour, with nobody and nothing to say we might not.”

  She beamed, and her heart soared. She had reveled in the time they had, and she had wondered if he felt the same way. Evidently, he had. He looked down at her, feeling a melting sweetness wash through her entire body, head to toe.

  “My Lady, I will see you soon. Should you need to contact me, do not hesitate to send a letter. Between your maid and Wycliffe, I have no doubt that we shall be able to stay in regular contact.”

  “It is well that we do not live too far apart. An hour by foot, that’s all.”

  He grinned. “Yes, My Lady. Now, I shall depart, and we shall see each other soon. Take care, and write me for any incident, no matter how small.”

  She beamed.

  You would think we were not going to see each other after a long time, not just a few days.

  She nodded.

  “Until next week, then.” he called down.

  “Until then,” she answered. She watched him mount his horse, and turning back to raise his hand in friendly greeting, headed down the path.

  She turned and went back to the house, with a lot to think about.

  Chapter 21

  Martha looked at herself in the mirror, and turned to the door, taking a deep breath. She was frightened. She looked at Amelia, and felt her spine stiffen. Amelia, lovely and tranquil, seemed frightened not at all.

  “You look lovely, Martha,” she said very calmly. “Shall we depart now?”

  Martha felt her fingers twisting together, a habit when she was nervous. She forced her arms to drop to her sides, walking out to join her sister in the corridor.

  “Yes,” she said softly. “We should go.”

  She walked beside her sister, the wind cool about her legs as they passed a big French window open in the hallway. She looked down at her green silk gown and Amelia’s muslin one, the pale layers floating on the air.

  They descended the stairs together. The hallway was bright and airy, and Martha looked around, feeling her mouth go dry like soil before rain. She glanced at the butler, who was dressed in black and waiting to take the coats of their guests. Her mother should have been there. She guessed she was in the ballroom.

  “Are there any guests here?”

  “No, Lady Amelia,” the butler replied to Amelia’s question. “The drive is still empty. I will open the doors in ten minutes’ time.”

  “Thank you,” she said softly.

  Martha wandered back to join her, feeling her chest tight with fear. She couldn’t think properly—she was so frightened and worried about what they would do.

  She had promised Nicholas she would do this, though, and she would keep her promise.

  She turned to Amelia, and held out her hand. Amelia tightened her fingers around Martha’s, and together they went into the ballroom.

  Martha felt better after holding Amelia’s hand. Her sister seemed so calm, though she knew exactly what they were going to do. It was reassuring.

  “Mama,” Amelia said, and Martha felt her stomach tighten into a knot again. Their mother was there, her back straight, her dark hair piled up in an elaborate chignon with the merest trace of a lace veil in dark blue. Her gown was dark blue as well, in taffeta that rustled like leaves in the wind.

  “We’re almost ready in here, daughter,” she said to Amelia, turning towards them. The light caught the dark jewels she wore at her throat. She looked elegant, severe, and beautiful, if dangerous.

  “Are you ready to welcome the guests with me?” their mother asked. “Martha, stop staring at the floor, it’s most unappealing.”

  Martha tensed. She might have felt bad about what they were going to do, but her mother’s easy slights made it much easier.

  She didn’t mind too much about putting her on the spot anymore.

  “Are the candles lit, Mama?” Amelia asked, changing the subject. Martha looked up at the chandeliers. They shimmered in the light of t
he candles, the entire room lit to full brightness by the hundreds of tiny glimmers.

  “All of them, I believe,” their mother said, with just a touch of distaste. The big candles had been very expensive, and Martha could almost have felt bad about the expense, save that it hadn’t been her idea to host the ball in the first place.

  “Well, then, we are ready,” Amelia agreed.

  The musicians were standing in the corner, and Haley was hurrying across to give them their instructions. Martha and Amelia went to join their mother at the front door, which was open now.

  As the guests started to arrive, Martha felt her stomach tie itself in knots. She was terrified about what they would do, as it was—the thought that they would have fifty people here was more terrifying.

  She took a deep breath.

  People filed past—men in dark tail-coats, ladies in pastel shades or darker shades, with hair adorned with pearls, ribbons or feathers. Haley took cloaks and coats and capes and Martha dropped what felt like endless curtseys. The air smelled of roses and spice and pomade.

  Will we ever, I wonder, run out of guests?

  She was feeling exhausted. She looked back to the door, where it was getting impossible to greet everyone personally as they came in—there were too many people arriving at once. The guests were a constant stream through the big door, and Martha felt as if half the nation must have come past, though in truth it could only be about twenty couples.

  When she looked back at Amelia, she wondered if Nicholas had already entered, and she hadn’t seen him.

  The stream of guests lessened again, and then abruptly stopped. She looked sideways at Amelia, who glanced at Mama.

  “Well, that seems to be all of them. Haley?” their mother asked.

  “Yes, My Lady?”

  “Have you counted? Have all the guests arrived?”

  “All except for Sir Amery, and he gave his excuse yesterday.”

  “Well, then,” she agreed. “We should close the doors and get the music started.”

  “Yes, My Lady.”

  Martha felt sick and she walked slowly down the steps, staring at the hall as if she had never seen it before. She felt utterly terrified. She reached the stone floor and looked around, almost too scared to move. A man stepped out of the crowd, followed by another.

  “My Lady,” Nicholas said, bowing low. “I am pleased to see you.”

  “Greetings, Lord Calperton,” Martha replied, feeling a glow of warmth in her chest. He was here! She felt stronger, the moment he took her fingers in his own.

  “Lord Calperton,” Amelia greeted, dropping a curtsey. She was looking around dreamily, and Martha guessed she had noticed Lord Alton somewhere. As she and her mother began to talk to Lord Calperton and his father, Martha was unsurprised to see her slip off somewhere by herself.

  I hope they have a good long time to talk together.

  She looked up at the duke, who was standing just beside his son. He looked forbidding and she glanced sideways at her mother, who was looking at him with a dangerous smile.

  She seems to feel like this is a victory of some sort, over him.

  She dismissed the thought with a shrug. Why would her mother and the Duke of Dellminster be having some sort of rivalry? It made no sense.

  “My Lady,” Nicholas said, while his father answered a question her mother had asked him. “I wonder if you’d like to take some refreshment?”

  Martha glanced sideways at her mother, as if indicating that she was watching them. He nodded.

  “I’ll go first,” she said softly, and slipped off. She was standing looking at the trestle-table, just at the edge of the crowd that knotted around it, talking to each other. She heard a familiar voice.

  “Would they have lemonade, by any chance?”

  “Lord Calperton!” she said warmly, turning around. “Yes, they have lemonade. I’m taking a cordial, I think…the lime cordial was very successful this year.” She reached for a glass of it, taking a sip. It was sugary, but sour, and delicious. She looked up at Lord Calperton, who was watching her.

  “I am sorry that we have to do this,” he said, his face tight. She could see he was as nervous as she felt. She put her one shoulder up in a shrug.

  “What has to be done, must be done.”

  He grinned. “You speak the truth,” he said.

  They were at the side of the hall and they both looked out over the people gathered there. Martha felt her mouth go dry and she almost wanted to collapse, her head swaying and pounding as if she had fever. She looked sideways at Nicholas. He was stiff with resolve, though his hand was clenched by his side and she could tell he was nervous.

  “I think it will all go to plan,” she whispered.

  “It’s almost time,” he said.

  They looked at each other. Martha’s fingers had gone cold. Her legs felt as if they had gone leaden, too heavy to move. Everything seemed to rush up at her at once.

  “Ladies and gentlemen!” her mother declared from the center of the room, just before the orchestra, who were poised to play the first dance. “Welcome to our manor. I invite you to relax, take refreshment and, of course, to enjoy the lovely music. We will begin with the first dance right away.”

  Martha took a step forward. Was it possible that they were going to do it now? She glanced sideways. Amelia was there, with Lord Alton. They were standing by a pillar, just out of sight. She saw Amelia take a step.

  “Lords, Ladies and gentlemen!” Nicholas said, as she squeezed his fingers in her own. “I have an announcement to make.”

  All eyes turned to him. Martha, standing firm beside him, felt herself sway and she felt as if she would pass out. She saw her mother stare at him, outraged.

  “Lords, Ladies and gentlemen,” Nicholas continued, when the entire room was focused. “I am here to announce that I am formally stepping out of my betrothal to Lady Amelia, in order that she may step into another.”

  Martha glanced sideways to where Amelia and Lord Alton stood together. She heard someone say, “Yes”. She wasn’t sure who it was.

  She looked across to where her mother still stood before the orchestra. Her skin was white, her dark eyes huge.

  “I am seconding the plan, which will allow my sister and I freedom in our betrothals,” Martha said. She had been rehearsing that line since yesterday. It echoed in the silence.

  She and Lord Calperton stood beside each other, and after a moment, Amelia came to join them. Martha felt a surge of heat wash through her as the three of them faced the hall.

  Nobody spoke.

  Martha looked up at Lord Calperton, who looked down at her fondly, though she could see the fear in his countenance. She glanced back to the hall.

  A flurry of navy-blue moved forward from the orchestra. Her mother hadn’t actually crossed the floor, she’d merely stood up straighter, but it seemed as if, in that instant, she’d drawn the focus of the whole hall. Martha felt her heart ache with nerves. Her mother took a deep breath. She spoke, not loudly, but everyone could not fail to hear her.

  “Lord Calperton, I thank you for your wit. Amelia, you too—this jest must have some hidden humor I cannot see. I assure the guests that you talk in implications—what you have said cannot be true, I know.”

  Martha looked down. Her heart thudded. She had no idea what to say. Everyone was looking at her mother, and Martha went red. They would believe her, and it would all be null-and-void.

  “I made no jest,” Lord Calperton said firmly. “What I have said is true.”

  And with that, he took Martha’s hand and they stood like that, hands clasped, before the whole hall. Martha, staring out, felt her vision blur with surprise, as if she might go unconscious.

  “You have deceived me! All of you!” Lady Weston said, and this time she was not trying to be polite. She looked at Lord Alton and Amelia, who were standing a little to the side, making no secret of their closeness. “Dellminster, we must talk. I…” suddenly, in the middle of everything, she put he
r hand to her chest, and her words stopped, face going white.

  Martha looked at Lord Calperton, who was looking out, face slack with shock. Amelia ran forward.

  “Mama! Mama!” she cried, and as their mother crumpled, she dropped to take her body weight.

  “Step back! Step back!” a footman shouted. Martha recognized him, her friend from the village, and ran to him as he started moving the guests back from the floor around her mother, clearing a space for the staff to reach her.