The Making of a Marquess

by Lynne Connolly

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know they meant so much to you.”

  “They didn’t.” He put the shepherd back. “I only remember them, that’s all. Fairings bought on a whim. They should go.” He glanced around the room. “The fact that this chamber is exactly as I remember disturbs me somewhat. It should have been cleaned out years ago.”

  Broken chairs were stacked in a corner, and a rickety table stood under a window. “This was once a fine anteroom, made to display treasures, or so I was told when I was a boy.”

  “It will be so again, if you want it,” she said, picking up her list.

  “What have you here?” He didn’t take the paper from her but peered over her shoulder. This close, the heat of his body seared through her and the scent of sandalwood and male eased into her senses. “Oho, I see you mean to be thorough.”

  “Someone has to be. I was merely making preliminary notes. I must speak to the housekeeper soon.”

  “Yes, you must. I believe old Mrs. Bush died, or retired. I remember her from my father’s time.” He paused. “My memories are not fond ones. I believe she gave my father some—comfort at times.”

  “You mean she shared his bed?” Dorothea didn’t care for polite euphemisms.

  Thankfully, he did not seem concerned by her frankness. “Exactly, but she wouldn’t have shared it for long. Only enough time for him to take what he wanted from her. He was not a faithful husband, and my mother was fully aware of that.” He touched her shoulder. “I will be. You need have no fears on that score.”

  Honestly, she had not considered the matter until he’d brought it up, which was foolish of her. Every gentleman had a mistress. Some wives considered the mistresses useful, especially the ones who did not care for the carnal side of marriage.

  Dorothea suspected she would not be one of those.

  “I came to find you because we are to see the vicar today. I want the banns read this Sunday.”

  She bit her lip. “What about a bishop’s license?”

  They would not have to have the banns read. At the back of her mind, Dorothea still did not believe the marriage would happen. Not that she doubted him, but herself. A bishop’s license would mean fewer people knew about their proposed marriage. And the breakup.

  “I am not ashamed. Are you?”

  She shook her head, using the excuse of finding the case for her pencil to not look at him.

  “Dorothea?” The soft tone made her look up. He crooked a finger under her chin and brought her close for a soft, sweet kiss.

  “Go and collect a hat and gloves. I’ll order the carriage put to.”

  * * * *

  Having located her hat and gloves, Dorothea hurried outside. Ben waited with the carriage. To her relief, he had an ordinary-looking gig, not a grander vehicle. With a smile, she placed her sensibly shod foot on the iron step and climbed up onto the wooden seat next to him.

  Ben set the single horse into motion. “You can use one of these?” he asked as they rolled down the drive at a steady pace, careful to avoid the rabbit holes.

  “Yes. We have one at home. I have been using it for years.”

  “Then I will ensure this one is at your disposal, as well as the grander vehicles. I confess that I didn’t order the carriage or anything more elaborate, so that we could have a chance to be alone. We don’t need footmen or grooms with this.” He smiled when he looked at her, warming her all the way through. “We need to discuss the little problem of this morning.”

  “Never say that. Someone tried to kill you, Ben, and you are taking it in the most infuriating manner.”

  He swung around the bend, bringing the village into sight. Cressbrook House was nestled between two hills, the rolling green giving an impression of lushness.

  “Infuriating?” His lips tilted in a grin. “My dear, I’ve faced a bear and survived. I fought a duel and I’m still here.”

  “You can fall over a doorstep and break your neck,” she observed, having heard of that very thing happening to a neighbor.

  “Should you wish it?”

  Her vehement, “No indeed!” raised a chuckle from him.

  “I am glad. You are sure I am the target of the attack?”

  “Who else? Not I, to be sure.” Who would want to kill her? She had no great fortune, or anything else to mark her out as special.

  He tightened the reins, slowing the horse, who was gathering speed going downhill. Dorothea admired his skill, the neat way he held the reins and the smooth anticipation of the obstacles on the rutted road.

  “Who knows about your investigation on behalf of Miss Childers?”

  “Only you, Sir James, and Laurence. Sir James left for London to present his decision to Lord Hardwicke, my brother is hardly likely to try to kill me, and you were with me at the time.”

  “Thank you for that.”

  “You’re welcome.” Her dry tone matched his, and they shared a moment of amusement. Sharing the same sense of humor would go a long way to ensure a happy union. Goodness, she was thinking of it as a fact now. Perhaps she should, since he seemed intent on the marriage. Reality was sinking in, and she could finally accept with equanimity that she was about to beat the field and marry the marquess.

  They traveled in silence to the outskirts of the village, a substantial settlement of its type. This close, the houses lost their appearance of picturesque quaintness. Holes gaped in roofs, and walls crumbled, moss overgrowing structures.

  “So we can say that Mrs. Thorpe, the major, and Mr. Thorpe were not in sight of anyone else when it happened. Mrs. Thorpe could not have done this on her own, the major was abed, and that leaves Louis Thorpe or someone unknown. The other guests were accounted for. I asked Schultz.”

  His nostrils flared. “I suspect my cousin Louis.”

  “But Mr. Thorpe was downstairs at the stables. We saw the coach leave.”

  “He could have run up to the roof, levered the cupid off the plinth, and returned downstairs. I know, I timed it myself.”

  Shocked, she swiveled to stare at him. “You did?” The image of him racing up and down stairs in his shirtsleeves quickened her heartbeat. All that honed muscle put to use.

  He nodded. “He wanted me gone all those years ago, went so far as to exaggerate his injury to rid himself of me. He considered himself the marquess in all but name. Who else would have made such a reckless attempt?”

  She sighed. “You are right.” But she would not give up her list, or the record she had made of the people present today. Not servants, because the act was an impulsive one. It had to be, considering their proximity at the time. Too much time would have to pass for someone to give the order to a servant. She had come out of the house, Ben had come to join her, then the statue had tumbled.

  “But why would Mr. Thorpe run up to the roof in the first place?”

  “Ah.” A dull flush spread over his cheeks. “I wish I had not promised the truth now.”

  “Oh?” Her stomach tightened. What had he done?

  He sighed. “Honoria accosted me this morning. Her attempt to win me back, I think.”

  “I saw you together. Why would she do that?”

  He shrugged. “Because she likes to collect men, whether she does anything with them or not. Some women collect porcelain figurines; Honoria collects men.” Hastily he added, “She did not succeed.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that.” He’d already given her his opinions on fidelity. However he felt about Honoria now, he would never trespass on his cousin’s ground.

  “She was flirting, using her skills on me. If Louis caught sight of that, he would know what she was about, and maybe he would want to go to a place where he could watch unobserved.”

  How terrible to have a spouse one had to watch all the time! But yes, that would give Louis a reason to run up to the roof.

  “He
had the opportunity because I made him change the carriage he took, from one with a crest to a plain one. That in itself would be enough to rile him.” Ben flicked the whip over the horse’s head. “He used to go up to the roof often when we were boys. He knew I was not fond of heights, so he was always sure he could be on his own.”

  That answered her question. The way Ben told it, the act was inevitable. Louis went up to the roof, saw Ben flirting with his wife, or to be more exact, his wife flirting with Ben, and decided to take advantage of his position.

  Ben glanced about him as they drove around the village green to reach the church at the far end. “The sooner I can begin on renovations, the better. I own this village, and my family built the church. I will not have it fall apart. But until the title is confirmed I cannot touch the entailed funds, such as they are. I am minded to use my own fortune. I’ve sent for a man of business I can trust, and he can help me record what needs doing.”

  Thinking like a businessman, every item in its proper department.

  “What are you smiling at?” His voice had softened as he drew the horse to a stop.

  “You,” she said, just as quietly, but she would not elaborate on her words. Because she dared not.

  Having no experience with falling in love made her doubt herself. She might merely be falling in like with him. Lust, certainly. A measure of both could lead to deeper emotions, but what was she supposed to feel? She had nothing to compare it with, no way of assessing. For the first time in years, Dorothea didn’t know what to think.

  * * * *

  Going home, Ben let Dorothea drive. She suspected he wanted to see her skill with the ribbons, but a gig with one horse wasn’t much of a test. Still, she had to admit the road leading to the house gates was an adequate trial.

  “I thought that went well,” he said.

  “Yes.” The vicar was a pleasant man, and at least the vicarage was in good heart. He promised to have the banns up, complimented them fulsomely, and expressed the desire that he would see Ben and Dorothea at church regularly. “He didn’t seem too enthused when I talked to him about the repairs.”

  Ben grunted. “He’s probably heard it before. My cousin is good at promises, not so good at fulfillment.”

  Dorothea recalled some of Angela’s comments. He’d borrowed far too much from the bank and only made a few payments. If he reneged completely, would Ben, as head of the family, be responsible? She didn’t think so, but she would ask Angela in her next letter.

  “So, my dear, we will be man and wife in twenty-three days’ time, because I mean to make good on the banns as soon as possible.” He folded his arms, leaning back as well as he could in the confined space, showing a remarkable trust in her driving. If she tipped the gig over, or sank into a rabbit hole, he would be sent head over heels. She redoubled her efforts to drive carefully, despite his alarming words.

  Yes, they would. A wife. “Indeed,” she managed, and kept her tone cool, although she had to make an effort to do so. “I should write some letters.”

  “You should indeed,” he said, amused. “So should I. I assume you’ve written to Miss Childers, and the guests just departed will spread the word efficiently. After all, that was why Louis invited them. He planned for them to spread the word of his accession to the title. Fortunately, events did not go that way.” He paused while they rolled along. “Should you object to walking the distance to the village tomorrow? It cannot be more than a mile.”

  On the Sabbath people who could walk were expected to do so, and the mile to the village would not be difficult. The weather had cooled today, giving some much-needed relief from the heat of the last week. A walk would be pleasant.

  “I expected to do so,” she answered. “I doubt the vicar would consider either of us unable to travel on foot.”

  Usually the vicar walked to the house to take service in the chapel after morning service in the village. However, since they wanted to hear the reading of the banns, they would have to attend the church. “I wonder if Mr. Thorpe would have done so.”

  “If it suited him.”

  That brought them back to the events of the morning. Neither spoke of it, since they had discussed it already, but the reminder cast a pall over Dorothea’s thoughts.

  “You know your brother requested to change chambers, now the prime guest rooms are available?”

  “Really?” That didn’t sound like them. Unless there was a problem with the room they occupied. Perhaps the window rattled or something. “I thought them fine.”

  “They are. However, they are somewhat distant from the other chambers we are using. Though that is not the reason either. I suspect they were being tactful.”

  Heat rose to her cheeks. “What do you mean?”

  The gates to the estate came into sight. Dorothea concentrated on those, and the sharp turn she would have to make.

  He chose that point to say, “It means we’re the only people sleeping in that part of the house. I send Rougier away at night, so unless your maid sleeps with you, there are just the two of us in that passage.”

  Dorothea caught her breath on a gasp. At least he waited until she’d negotiated the curve, and they were heading up the drive. Unfortunately, its state was no better than the road, but the quick beating of her heart wasn’t because of that.

  “My dear,” he said in a softer tone, “I have been burning for you. Knowing you are so near but so unattainable has driven me mad, especially considering what I already know about your delectable body.”

  She tried to speak, but it came out a strangled squeak. But how could she deny that she wanted him too? The notion would never have crossed her mind before, but with her new, daring approach to life, it had. More than once she had considered her bed a vast, empty space that needed a companion. She’d almost considered asking for a maid, but now she was glad she had not.

  “I don’t have a maid. I share one with my sister-in-law, and as I dress simply, I do not always need her help.” She clamped her mouth shut, afraid she was about to babble.

  “Forgive me.” Ben sounded completely calm. “I did not mean to upset you. But if I were to try your door tonight, and find it open, I might come inside and pay you a midnight visit. But only if it is open, of course.”

  Her heart was beating frantically and her mind whirling. Dorothea barely managed to take the horse and gig around the house to the stables. When Ben came to her and lifted her down, his hands around her waist, she trembled under his touch. She prayed he would not notice, since her stays were not insubstantial, but her fingers shook when she put them on his sleeves for balance. She stepped back quickly, as soon as he had released her.

  He lifted her gloved hand to his lips. “Please don’t distress yourself, Dorothea. It is merely a suggestion, that is all. I can easily wait three weeks.” He laughed harshly. “Well, perhaps not easily.”

  Chapter 16

  Dinner was tediously long, but at least Dorothea had been able to order a simpler repast, since many of the guests had left. They talked of politics, the weather, anything but the events of that day, as if somehow a tumbling cherub was something to be embarrassed about. Ben sat at the head of the table now, and Dorothea took her place next to him. Taking the hostess’s position at the foot of the table would have been premature. At Ben’s request, Lady Steeping fulfilled that honor.

  After dinner there was tea and gossip. Someone played a sonata on the harpsichord, and Dorothea nodded and smiled, God knew at what. However, the ladies ended their evening early, some to walk in the garden before the sun went down, and others to attend to private business, letters and suchlike. Dorothea went upstairs before the gentlemen had quit the dining room.

  The maid came to help her undress, and then all she could do was wait. Agony. She shot the bolts on her bedroom door and then slid them back at least twice before she made her final decision.

  Dorothea was s
itting at her dressing table when a soft knock sounded on the door. She licked her lips, which had turned unaccountably dry, and whispered, “Come in.”

  The latch lifted, and Ben entered her room. Dorothea’s heart rose to her throat. She was in the process of unfastening the nighttime braids Ann’s maid had insisted on doing for her.

  Smiling, he walked over to her. His knee-length ultramarine silk banyan revealed bare legs. Those calves needed no padding. She kept her gaze fixed on his lower half, discomfited.

  He stopped beside her chair. “It’s only me,” he said, gentle as a whisper. “If you want me to leave, I’ll go.”

  She choked out a laugh. “That’s the trouble. I don’t. But I’ve never been in this situation before.”

  “Count this as the first of many nights.” He gripped the back of her chair, his knuckles turning white.

  He knew she would be cautious, but after all, couples anticipated their marriage frequently. Didn’t they? At any rate, a fair number of first children in society were born early. It was just— “I never expected to find this happening to me. Not in these circumstances.”

  “What do you mean? Dorothea, look at me. I can’t tell what you are thinking if you don’t.”

  Drawing a deep breath, she lifted her chin and looked up. He’d shaved, and he wore his hair loose. It hung either side of his face like a silken curtain, but somehow, the hair made him appear more masculine, almost a barbarian. He was smiling.

  She stared.

  “Sweetheart, I want you. What we did before was only a beginning.”

  Her lips formed an O. His eyes darkened.

  He held out his hand, palm up. Lines were engraved into the surface, his long, strong fingers curled slightly. But the nails were neatly trimmed and polished, despite the scars that nicked his fingers, signs of the physical work he’d done.

  Tentatively, she reached out and laid her hand in his. His fingers closed around hers, and he urged her to her feet. She let him draw her into his body, a hard wall of heat and muscle. “By the way, there’s a footman stationed at the end of this passage.”