The Marquess Meets His Match

by Maggi Andersen

  He should join her. Vauxhall could be entertaining, and he’d rather she experienced it with him. Robert tossed back the brandy, leapt up, and instructed his valet to bring his evening clothes. He washed and changed while Soames went in search of a hackney.

  Soon, Robert sat in a carriage rattling along the dark London streets.

  He paid the jarvie at the entrance to the gardens. On his left, the Thames’ waters were lit by moonlight. “Wait for me and you’ll get double fare,” he said to the jarvie.

  “Right you are, gov.”

  Beneath a profusion of lamps, Robert strode down the wide avenue filled with noisy revelers. Lady Moncrieff would have taken a box in the grove.

  *

  An inebriated man asked Kate to dance. She’d just refused him when a better dressed gentleman in a deep purple mask lined with gold approached with the same intention. She accepted him for it was certainly better than sitting alone attracting unwanted attention. After the dance, she would respectfully bid goodnight to her hostess and hope that she might come with her. If not, Kate would find a hackney. There seemed to be many carriages for hire when they’d arrived. That is, if she was able to locate Lady Moncrieff among the people crowding the grove.

  The tall man led her through the steps of the dance, making no attempt at conversation. When the music ended, he escorted her from the floor. “Have you viewed the paintings of Shakespeare’s plays, my lady?”

  His voice sounded familiar to Kate. She wondered if she’d met him somewhere. “No, I haven’t.”

  He nodded and took her arm, guiding her through the throng to the Prince of Wales Pavilion on the west side of the Grove. The four large paintings of scenes from the bard’s plays, painted by Francis Hayman, hung in an open portico. They were well executed, tempting Kate to remove her mask for a better view. She resisted. It might be unwise to reveal her identity to this stranger.

  “I enjoyed it, thank you. Would you escort me back to my party, please?”

  He nodded and offered her his arm. She took it, relieved that he knew the way, for she’d lost her bearings. When they entered the empty box, she searched about for her cloak and reticule but couldn’t find them. “That’s odd.” She glanced at the painting on the wall. A different one to the artwork she remembered.

  He poured wine into glasses and offered her one.

  Kate refused it. “This is not Lady Moncrieff’s box, sir.”

  “Isn’t it?” He grabbed the curtain and pulled it across the face of the box, to blot out the crowd and then untied the strings of his mask. It fell away to reveal his smiling face.

  “Lord Southmore!”

  He bowed. “At your service, my lady.”

  “Why didn’t you declare yourself? Take me back to Lady Moncrieff.”

  “Let’s not hurry, Kate. Surely we can enjoy a glass of wine together.”

  “I don’t believe I gave you leave to use my name, sir. And no. I don’t wish for wine. I want you to take me back, now.”

  “You’re safe from scandal here. Everyone is intent on their own enjoyment as you see.”

  “The place is rife with scandal. And I don’t intend to contribute to it. I shall bid you goodnight, sir.” Kate moved to slip past him.

  He caught her arm in his strong grip. “You are no doubt aware that your husband and I are no longer friends. But there is no reason why we cannot be. Especially here, and now. What harm can it do, Kate? A flirtation between us will be exciting. I’ve always thought so. I hope you’ll come to see the sense of it. Perhaps some wine.”

  She pushed the proffered glass away, spilling wine onto the floor. “I suspect it’s revenge you hope for, Southmore.”

  “You heard about our boxing match?” He clenched and unclenched his hand. “Robert was very angry that night. Regrettable. But I do like to finish what I begin.”

  She backed toward the box entrance. “Things don’t always go the way one hopes. And I shouldn’t like you to suffer another injury.”

  “Robert was lucky. He won’t be the next time we meet. It will be pistols and I will win.” He pounced, taking her by surprise, hauling her against him in an iron grip. His mouth came down hard on hers. Kate fought him, but he’d trapped her arms within his. Revolted by his tongue pushing against her clamped lips, Kate let her body go limp.

  Southmore broke the kiss as he struggled to hold her upright. She pushed up with her knees and shoved at his chest with all her strength. Startled, he staggered and fell back over the chair behind him.

  Breathless, Kate fled and ran across the grove searching for Lady Moncrieff’s box. At first glance, they all looked the same. And with everyone masked, it became impossible to recognize anyone she knew. They seemed to have all scattered and disappeared.

  Finally, she located the box when she recognized the painting. Inside, Lord Wainright, leaned tipsily back in his chair with a glass in his hand. “Ah, a lady.”

  As Kate gathered up her cloak and reticule, he reached over and tugged at her skirts. “C’mon and join me.”

  Kate licked her sore, swollen lip and tried to keep from bursting into tears of frustration. She pulled her skirts away hearing the fragile fabric rip, the rent wide enough to expose her underpetticoat. She rushed out as her hair unraveled from its pins. The path she chose led through the gardens, hopefully in the direction of the entrance, although she wasn’t sure. She rushed headlong along the path and came up against a hard body. A hand on her arm stopped her from darting past. Fear gripped her. She raised her head and gazed into the artic blue gaze of her husband.

  A sob escaped her lips. “Robert!”

  “Ready to come home?” he asked in a dangerously quiet tone.

  “Yes, I…that is… I am.” She gathered her scattered wits. “Indeed I am.”

  Robert took her arm. “We go this way.”

  “I’m so glad I met you. I was heading in the wrong direction,” Kate began. But Robert had suddenly stopped, his eyes on a retreating figure.

  “What is it?” Kate asked filled with dread.

  “Was that Southmore I spied?”

  “Oh?” she asked her heart pounding. “Where?”

  “Over there in the purple domino. The very tall gentleman.” He scowled at her. “There are very few men in London as tall as Southmore.”

  She tugged at his sleeve. “I’ve no idea. Do let’s go.”

  He led her at such a fast walk toward the line of waiting carriages she scarcely kept up with him. Why hadn’t she remembered that about Southmore? He was exceptionally tall.

  When they settled in the carriage, Robert’s cool gaze roamed over her. “You’ve torn your gown.”

  “Yes, I stumbled and caught my heel.”

  He cocked a brow. “I’ve never known you to be clumsy. Are you attempting to entertain me with a Banbury story?”

  Kate lost her temper. She’d had all she could take this evening. “Yes. It is a story, my lord. I made a mistake and fell into bad company if you must know. A drunken man tried to force me to join him in a drink and I tore my gown.”

  “Not very well done, Kate.”

  The attempt to hold the torn edges of her gown together was futile and she gave up. “No, it wasn’t. I quite agree with you. People do make mistakes. I make mistakes.”

  A long pause followed with only the clip-clop of the horses echoing through the empty streets. Mist hovered over the river and formed a halo of light around the gas lamps. She waited in the faint hope Robert would admit he made mistakes, too. If he did, they might laugh and forgive one another.

  “You aren’t hurt?” he asked.

  “No. Just my pride.”

  “Who was the drunk who tore your gown?”

  “I shan’t tell you. I expect it’s more important to fight a duel in my honor than to discuss exactly what needs to be said between us.”

  In the half-light of the carriage lamp he reddened and shifted in his seat. “Don’t be so dramatic. I hadn’t a duel in mind.”

  “Now w
ho isn’t telling the truth?”

  The carriage drew up outside the house and they entered and ascended the stairs in icy silence. At her bedchamber door, Kate turned to him. She hated to leave him like this and made a last attempt to at least have good manners restored between them. “You found your trip successful?”

  “Yes, it went well.”

  She hesitated, her hand on the latch. “I’m glad, Robert.”

  “Kate…”

  He bent his head toward her and she stilled. Her body tensed with longing. Would he kiss her?

  Robert straightened. “Your lip appears to be bleeding,” he said softly.

  “The man tried to kiss me. When I pushed him away, he fell over a chair and I escaped,” she said in a rush. “I was on my way home when I met you.”

  “Tell me the man’s name, Kate. Was it Southmore?”

  Her throat tightened. “The man who tore my gown was a stranger to me.” There was an element of truth to it. Southmore had behaved strangely and most unlike a gentleman.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Now why is that?” She trembled under his fierce scrutiny, ashamed that he knew she lied. But she couldn’t risk telling him. Southmore would keep his promise and shoot Robert. Even if Robert walked away from the duel unscathed, the consequences would be too awful to contemplate.

  “You don’t trust easily, Robert.”

  “Did you have a carriage waiting?”

  “No, as I was part of Lady Moncrieff party. But then she disappeared. I’m sure I could have found a hackney.”

  “And what if you could not? You would have found yourself in quite a dilemma. A most dangerous one.” He firmed his lips. “I won’t leave you alone in London again.”

  She wished she might accept it as an admission that he cared. But it sounded damning.

  “Lady Moncrieff has quite a reputation. There are many scheming, unscrupulous people inhabiting society. It will take you time in London to recognize them.”

  She blinked. It seemed she’d proved a disappointment to him again.

  “I’m tired Robert.” She turned away into the room. When he bowed and stepped back, she shut the door, and stumbled over to the bed trembling with anger at herself for her stupidity and him for not forgiving her mistakes. Bitter tears dampened her pillow.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Robert stalked down the corridor to his chamber. He had a right to be concerned, didn’t he? To discover his wife wandering Vauxhall with a torn gown? His eyes narrowed, his mind in turmoil. Did she go to Vauxhall to meet Southmore? Or was it just a chance encounter where Southmore tried to take his revenge?

  He dismissed his valet, preferring to undress himself. He sat on the chair and pulled off his shoes. Kate had looked so small and vulnerable in the moonlight, her hair down over her shoulders, her gown ripped. It had invoked in him a sort of helpless rage that he had not been there to protect her. London society was treacherous for the unwary. What if he hadn’t been there? She might have been hurt, or worse. Anger still swirled in his gut that someone had accosted her. And he feared it had been Southmore.

  He pulled off his cravat which had grown uncomfortably tight around his neck. The waistcoat and shirt followed. He paused, his hand on his buttons as a thought hit him. Kate held something back. She might fear that if he’d discovered the rake’s name he would run him through. Stepping out of his pantaloons, Robert sat on the bed and paused over a stocking. Might she care for Southmore? Robert struggled with the possibility, surprised at how depressed it made him. He drew off the other stocking. Impossible. He couldn’t believe Kate capable of such subterfuge. He’d come to know her. Scheming was not in her nature.

  He set his teeth. He might have handled it better if it wasn’t so long since he’d bedded a woman. Plenty of opportunities had presented themselves. That comely woman in the Birmingham tavern, for instance, whose charms he had resisted, while not even sure why. For some reason, since he’d parted from Anastasia, he’d refused to take another mistress. Even though many of his married friends had a Cyprian tucked away in London, and there were always opera dancers more than willing to please him when he went with friends to Covent Garden. It appeared he was doing a kind of penance. He admitted he didn’t understand women, but he also struggled to understand himself.

  Robert had a vision of the Garden of Eden. Kate offered something he wanted desperately but was afraid to grasp because his life as he’d known and enjoyed it would change. Dash it all, it had changed. He wasn’t even sure he wanted things to go back the way they had been before he and Kate married. But the prospect of a marriage like many others, a polite disinterest in each other for much of the year seemed far worse.

  He washed in icy water and shivering, climbed naked into bed, where he lay awake thinking of Kate, and hating that she’d been hurt. That some man had disrespected her and treated her in that manner. Forget a duel, he’d kill him with his bare hands.

  *

  The next morning, Kate entered the breakfast room. Robert had eaten and was drinking coffee while pouring over some papers at the table. She smoothed the lace at her elbow nervously wondering what sort of reception she’d receive after last night. She’d chosen a gown which gave her confidence, a dove-gray silk with bows at the elbows and on the bodice. She’d regretted what had occurred. It was understandable that Robert was upset that she’d been accosted when he only sought to protect her. She just wished he would respond with affection instead of criticism. “Good morning, Robert.”

  “Good morning, Kate.” Robert stood as Soames drew out the chair for her. Robert came around and bent to view her injured lip. “Better?”

  “Yes.” The swelling had gone.

  He returned to his chair. “I’m sorry I was bad tempered last night. I seem to be always apologizing. I’m sure you’ve grown tired of it.”

  Surprised by the heartfelt apology she’d never expected, Kate shook her head. “I must apologize, too. You had good reason to be upset.”

  “Then shall we forget it happened?”

  “Yes, please.” She hoped Robert had decided to let the matter go. She’d wrestled anxiously with her fears during the night and concluded that Southmore was all bluster. He would not dare bother her again. Robert was by far the more dangerous opponent. And Southmore knew it.

  She studied Robert’s face as her coffee was brought. He looked tired. “What are those papers?” she asked, fearing a rebuff.

  “They’re from the china works. This is the pattern for the porcelain plates we plan to make.” He pushed the sketch across to her. “We shall branch out into more elaborate designs and make other items in the future. The possibility for a store in London has been discussed.”

  Kate was pleased to see him so enthusiastic about something at last. His intelligent blue eyes studied hers, drawing her in. She was delighted to have her opinion valued. The blue and white design was simple yet pleasing. She considered it a perfect beginning and told him so. “I’m pleased you’ve decided to keep the pottery factory. I saw that it interested you.”

  He smiled. “You’re right, Kate. And it was you who set me on this path, for which I am grateful.”

  Kate warmed under his praise.

  He tidied his papers in a neat pile. “What do you have planned for today?”

  “I shall visit Bond Street for a little shopping. I require a few things before we leave for Merry’s wedding. Is there anything I can get you?”

  “No, thank you.” He smiled. “I trust the servants are not in need?”

  She laughed, pleased that he seemed to have accepted her unconventional attitude toward their staff.

  The atmosphere was so convivial Kate felt quite light-headed as her toast was set before her. She reached for the strawberry jam. “We are to attend the opera at Haymarket tonight. I’m looking forward to it. But we must leave at interval for Countess Marchon’s soiree.”

  Robert nodded absently, gathered up his papers, and placed them in a leather valise.
He pushed back his chair and stood. “Forgive me. I wish to make an early start for Vauxhall.”

  For a moment the word hung between them before Kate linked it with the pottery factory. “Oh yes, of course.”

  Robert turned at the door. “Enjoy your shopping. And take your maid.”

  “Brigitte would never allow me to shop without her,” Kate said.

  The door closed. She sighed. Unreasonable to want to go with him. And she mustn’t be unreasonable. He had been amiable this morning. She wanted it to continue this evening.

  “Thank you, Soames.” Kate smiled at the footman who poured her more coffee. How could one be so busy and yet feel so lonely?

  *

  It was Kate’s first experience of King’s theatre. After extensive renovations, the interior was light and elegant with Gainsborough’s two picturesque figures representing music and dancing painted in white on the side wings before the curtain.

  In the boxes around the walls, ladies chatted in their finery, their jewels sparkling in the candlelight. Kate spied the Duchess of Devonshire, who waved her lorgnette.

  The theatre was well lit during the performance, and the noise in the audience continued unabated. The ton gossiped, flirted, and laughed. The prime minister, William Pitt, was engaged in heated debate with a man seated next to him. Noblemen and dandies wandered from box to box and often visited their box for a word with Robert. Some descended to the pit benches to wander the aisles and view the boxes above.

  “Why do they walk the aisles?” she asked Robert.

  “That’s called fop-alley,” he said. “After the performance, they’ll go backstage.”

  “To flirt with the dancers?”

  Robert shrugged with a grin.

  “Have you ever done that?”

  Robert shook his head. “Never wandered fop-alley. But I haven’t lived like a monk, Kate,” he said with a frown. A silence followed while she considered how he was living now.