The Making of a Marquess

by Lynne Connolly

  He responded, pulling her close and dragging her fichu up and away. Her breasts swelled, threatening to burst out of her stays and shift. If only they would!

  Tracing his finger across the top of her breasts, following the line of her stays, brought tingling awareness to her skin, deliciously sensual.

  A click behind them heralded the entrance of—someone, and the scandalized cry brought her back to earth. “Unhand her, sir!”

  If ever a brother was de trop, this was the time. Ann’s shocked, high-pitched cry was broken off.

  Ben spun around, pushing her behind him as if to shield her, and standing tall. “Yes?”

  If anyone doubted his aristocratic pedigree, they should hear and see him now.

  His arrogance made her giggle, half nervous, half shocked. Bending, she retrieved her fichu and tossed the light square of white linen across her shoulders, shielding what should never have been exposed. Hastily she gathered the precious papers, which she’d let fall when she’d lost her senses to his kiss.

  “May I ask what you are doing in my sister’s bedroom?” Laurence demanded, every inch the proper guardian.

  “I must apologize, Lord Sandigate,” Ben said smoothly. “I had private business with Dorothea, and we got somewhat—carried away.”

  She did not bother wondering how and why she could have done this; she knew perfectly well. The man had overwhelmed her senses from the moment she’d laid eyes on him. She would do it again. And, resenting his protection of her, she emerged, smoothing her skirts and holding the papers with hands that barely trembled. “And really, Laurence, what business is it of yours?”

  Laurence lifted his sandy brows and met her gaze directly. “I am your protector, my dear. My duty is to ensure your safety.”

  “I am perfectly fine! And I am all of thirty years old.” Closing her eyes, she huffed a sigh. Every time she said that, her heart plummeted.

  But when she took a step to cross the room and join her brother, Ben curled his fingers around her arm, preventing her from moving. “I regret my behavior, but not the reason why. I have been courting your sister, my lord, but decided to delay any formal approach until the title had been declared.”

  “And this is the result?” From the chilly tone in his voice, Laurence was not mollified.

  “Entirely my fault. I would make amends.”

  Laurence nodded. “Accepted. We will discuss settlements.”

  After exchanging an appalled look with Ann, Dorothea shook off Ben’s restraining hand. “I am here, and I will speak for myself.” Any embarrassment had been dissipated by the arrogance of the men. “I am long past the age where I need to apply to my guardian to make my decisions for me. I have no guardian.” She turned a glare on her brother. “What I do, I do for myself, in full knowledge.” Her breath came in short gasps, her fury taking even that from her. “I will not be forced, sir. I will make up my own mind.”

  Triumph soared through her. With her acceptance of work from Angela, she had done more than found something useful to do with her time. She was herself, and she had people who believed in her. “I have my inheritance now, and I control my own fate. I would like you all to leave.” After handing the papers to Ben, she turned her back pointedly.

  They left. Even Ben.

  * * * *

  Ben refused to discuss Dorothea with Lord Sandigate and his wife. “If you will leave the matter to me, I will resolve it. I have made my desires clear, and I will continue to do so. Even if Sir James finds against me, which he will not, I have more than enough to make Dorothea happy.”

  Fine words. After replacing the papers on the table, he sent a note to Sir James, requesting a meeting as soon as he could arrange it.

  Lying on his bed, his hands tucked under his head, he allowed himself to think.

  Her outburst had made a few things clear. She would make her own decisions, she said, and he respected that. She obviously had enough money to ensure her future, but he could offer her much more.

  If he married her, he could trust her with the affairs of the estate. He could get her with child, and if the baby was born well and alive, return to Boston. She would not want that; society was much smaller, and restricted. At home, Dorothea would be a marchioness, a woman with an assured place in the world. He could give her that.

  And he wanted her.

  This woman had life, so real and vital to him that he still felt the warmth of her skin under his hands. That one brief touch he’d stolen of the soft skin of her upper breasts had made him yearn for more, and yet more. To have her under him, his body in hers, his mouth worshiping her skin.

  Sitting up, Ben swung his legs off the bed, crossed the room to the washstand, and stripped off his waistcoat and shirt. Dinner would be soon, and Rougier would be up directly. He might as well make a start.

  Life wouldn’t wait for him. Facing imminent death across twenty yards had taught him that.

  Chapter 9

  The last person she wanted to see was walking toward Dorothea along the wide corridor of the main floor. She’d dressed quickly and missed breakfast, opting for a light repast in her room and planning a day outdoors.

  She wasn’t running away, of course not. But she needed time to think and work out what she would do. Her instincts told her to run to Ben, to claim more of what he gave her yesterday afternoon, but her common sense warned her to stop. She needed space, and a chance to regroup, to rebuild that façade she’d relied on for years.

  She couldn’t avoid him; no rooms were open and going back would be positively rude. She could not see how to escape him, so with a sense of helplessness, she stopped and waited for him to come to her. Between the wide windows, the heavy, dusty upholstery gave her no exodus.

  His gaze followed hers. “This house needs more domestics. Or servants who do their jobs better.” His attention returned to her. “And I need someone to help me do it.” He continued before she had time to reply, “I see you’re dressed for the outdoors. May I join you?”

  She could hardly say she intended to discover the most out-of-the-way pavilion and stay there. “Of course.” She even managed a smile.

  “I’ll behave myself; I promise.” That would have been fine except he added, “Unless you don’t want me to.”

  Best to pretend she hadn’t heard that last remark, but her ears heated, and she’d wager they’d turned pink. At least the flush hadn’t spread to the rest of her face.

  Fortunately, the day was a fine one, so they could not expect to be alone. Leaving the house by a side door, they walked toward the rose gardens at the back of the house.

  She quickened her pace, her feet crunching on the gravel. He easily kept up with her. “I would apologize for the incidents of yesterday, but I cannot find it in myself to be sorry,” he said.

  She kept her gaze fixed ahead. She would not head for the far reaches of the park, as she’d planned, but the main gardens. A formal arrangement held little interest, but the flowers were pretty and the paths dry and in full view of the house. He could not misbehave here, and she wouldn’t be tempted to let him. “Most women would consider what you did a grave insult.”

  He chuckled, a low rumble deep in his throat. Impossibly attractive. “Unless they responded. My dear, you were pure fire.”

  Whipping her head around, she stared at him, shocked. She knew how she’d behaved, but she never thought he’d refer to it. “You are not a gentleman, sir.”

  “My title says otherwise,” he replied. “What I am is honest, and I admit a gentleman is not always so. We deserve to discuss this matter with no bark on it.”

  “I thought I made my position clear. I am a single woman and like to remain one.”

  The way she’d responded to his kiss worried her, frightened her a little. He was too close for her comfort, but moving away wouldn’t help. He’d only come closer.

  “You w
ere caught in the moment, as was I. What would have happened, I wonder, if your brother had not come upon us?”

  He wouldn’t let her look away, but kept her gaze. She stopped, lest she trip and fall, or make a fool of herself some other way. “I do not know. I have no experience of that kind of situation.” She shrugged. “I am not sought after, sir.”

  Turning her head, she continued ambling along the paths, seeing nothing. The scent of newly cut grass stung her nose, invading her senses.

  “It’s my belief that you’ve hidden your true nature for too long. I fear I might have had something to do with that. I’d be sorry, except I mean to make up for that in every way possible.” His response made her shiver in anticipation, her reaction involuntary.

  “Honesty, you said, sir. Let us keep to that.”

  “I am completely honest. I can’t help what other men think. They are all fools if they can’t see what’s in front of their eyes. I want you, Dorothea, for my wife, and I intend to renew my courtship of you.”

  “Too late for that.” He’d destroyed any attempt at propriety yesterday. “Why would you want me?”

  “You are an intelligent woman. I like you. And our arrangement would give you a much better future than any you could expect.”

  “You’re so sure of that? An independent existence would suit me well. I have enough to ensure my future. I will buy an annuity and a comfortable house and be perfectly happy.” Defiantly she held her head high, refusing to give way.

  His derisory snort did not need words, but he said them anyway. “You deserve more than that. Your intelligence, your beauty demands you have the position you deserve.”

  Again, she stopped and faced him. “You strike me as a man who likes his own way in everything. I doubt you’d welcome my interference.”

  “I regret I have given you the wrong impression.”

  In the distance, two women engaged in a stroll blatantly watched them. Dorothea chose to ignore them, but they were a warning to her, not to allow her emotions to override her behavior. Her brother had read her a lecture yesterday, one she had deserved. Her behavior had not shown the restraint and hauteur required of a lady. Perhaps she was not a lady, after all. Her instincts certainly hadn’t been those of a lady.

  “How can that be, sir? You are a man of decisive behavior, used to running your own affairs. Do you require a housekeeper, you will find plenty eager to serve you, especially when Sir James declares you the marquess.”

  “You believe he will, then?”

  He was toying with her. “After what you showed me yesterday, the decision is a foregone conclusion.” She shifted away from him. His attention made her uncomfortable.

  “Thank you. We must wait on events. But you know better than anyone else in this house that I am wealthier than most people think. Even without the title and lands I can keep a wife and family in luxury.”

  “I have never yearned for luxury.”

  “I am aware. Your mind is set on higher things, is it not?”

  Despite her determination, his statement sent a riot of pleasure through her, especially when he followed his words with a sultry smile, hinting at intimacy—blatantly promising it. “You would have influence over politicians, servants, clerics—and me.”

  “Oh!”

  Her cheeks were blazing. She turned away and groped in her pocket for her fan. He moved closer, but not too close, so the observers could not object to it. “Honesty, Dorothea. Let’s deal with one another plainly.”

  Ignoring her discomfiture as best she could, she met his gaze boldly. “Yes. Let’s.”

  Turning again, she walked down the path and into the maze, a series of knee-high box hedges. If they tired of seeking the center, they could step over the hedges—at least, that was the theory. But like everything else in this house, the hedges weren’t kept properly. Twigs stuck out, and the ground was festooned with dead wood that the gardeners should have long since collected.

  He kept pace with her, the paths wide enough to walk two abreast. Behind them, the house reared up, half a dozen stories of grandiose magnificence. She turned, and the house was before her, the blank windows holding who knew how many secrets. Behind one, at the opposite end of the house to the one holding her room, someone moved, a whisper across the glass.

  His attention went to it sharply, then he deliberately turned his head, to gaze at her instead. “I need a wife. I want you to fulfill the role.”

  He would not be deterred, except, perhaps, by one thing. “You know I am thirty years old. I might be barren.”

  “You are a brave woman to face that possibility.” He moved his hand, which he’d been holding loosely by his side, but returned it without touching her. Nevertheless, the intent remained. “You are not. I am certain of it.”

  “You can tell by looking?”

  “No.” His gaze remained steady. “I’m willing to take that risk, if you are. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have by my side on this adventure. And it will be an adventure, that I can promise you.”

  She walked again, trying to discern the path to the center of the maze, where a bench was set. Inside, she was a mess, her previous resolve shattered. Adventure? Yes, please, but the rest, she wasn’t so sure. “At least you haven’t told me you love me beyond bearing, or that you are passionately devoted to me.” She injected as much venom as she could into her words.

  “I might do that yet,” he said. “Would it persuade you?”

  “Not if it weren’t the truth. And perhaps not even then.”

  * * * *

  Maybe he shouldn’t have laughed, but Dorothea delighted Ben. Her insistence on straight talking and honesty was rare in her sex. A declaration of passionate love would not work with her, so he hadn’t even considered it. The sunlight struck her hair, turning it a shade of delicate, rare, pale gold that had far more value to him than a flashy yellow. She wore a broad-brimmed bergère hat, which she could have used to avoid his gaze, but she had not.

  They could forge a partnership like no other.

  He’d never sought out a lady who preferred to stay in the shadows. In his previous London career, the dazzlers, the beauties, the society darlings had attracted him. They flirted, laughed, nothing serious, everything fashionable, all the look-at-me people. He’d changed more than he’d realized. Because this quiet, intelligent, elegant woman drew him more than the lovelies, and he desperately wanted her to marry him.

  No, not desperately, of course not. She wasn’t the only woman of substance in London. But it was this one he wanted. Better not to question his decision, but to get on with it. She would take some persuading.

  “The longest-lasting unions have a deep affection that grows over the years.” Marriages based on passion rarely worked for very long, and he was tired of short-term solutions.

  She met his gaze straight on, her eyes silver in the sunlight. “Did you love your first wife?”

  “Yes.” When he’d first met her, Mary had enchanted him. She was so pretty, so dainty, that he had been certain he had fallen in love with her, but that emotion had not lasted long. “Besides, what does that have to do with anything? Love, or what passes for it, is a fleeting emotion. I value friendship and affection much more.”

  Dorothea remained absolutely still, but a shadow crossed her eyes as the light dimmed. A cloud must have covered the sun. “I see. Thank you for your honesty. I will need time.”

  Disappointed, he asked, “How much?”

  She waved a hand and glanced down, away from him. “All I need. If that isn’t enough for you, then maybe you should look elsewhere.”

  “I apologize. Of course, take as much time as you need.” Although quicker would be better. Her brother wouldn’t wait forever. In fact, he was expecting an announcement today, but he could fob off the viscount for a little while yet.

  She looked up again, her mouth flat. �
��Sir James said he would like the new marquess to have an assured line, did he not?”

  Ah, yes, straight to the point. Despite not wanting her to recall it, he was pleased that she did, because it displayed her presence of mind. And, yes, honesty. “He did. Louis, any son he might have, and then William are eligible.”

  “So you don’t really need me.”

  Put like that, no, he didn’t. But he wanted her. “The idea of taking a girl fresh from the schoolroom makes me shudder. I can’t imagine we would have much in common.”

  “Some schoolroom chits are up to the task. After all, most are trained from childhood.”

  He shook his head. “No. And to have them making a play for me.” He let her see his shudder this time. “No.”

  The horror of stepping into a fashionable ballroom and feeling the target on his back. He had no intention of subjecting himself to that ever again. The giggling, the fan-wafting—no.

  “Madam, I would be honored if you would consider my request. Shall we now turn to enjoying the day, and speak of other matters?”

  “Yes.” Her smile had an edge of relief to it. If he was a man aware of his own consequence, he might have taken offense at that. However, her reaction merely amused him. “What do you consider a suitable topic of discussion? Your friend’s injury? How is he today?”

  Recalling his visit to Hal earlier that day, Ben grinned. “A couple of strong footmen transferred him to his own room. This morning he is decidedly bored, and consequently naggy. That’s a good sign.”

  “I’m glad. So he will make a complete recovery?”

  He nodded. “Barring infection. His man is taking good care of him. It is only a graze.” He glanced at the hedges. “We’ve been this way before, have we not? Don’t I recognize that hole in the greenery?”

  She glanced at it and sighed. “Indeed. A shame the hedges have grown too high to step over. We should try to find our way out.”