A Game of Chess with the Marquess
A Historical Regency Romance Novel
Patricia Haverton
Contents
A Sweet Gift For You
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
The Haunted Knight of Lady Canterley
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Also by Patricia Haverton
About the Author
A Sweet Gift For You
Thank you for supporting my efforts. Having you beside me on this wonderful journey means everything to me.
As a Thank You gift I have one of my full-length novels here for you. The Last Lady of Thornhill Manor is only available to people who have downloaded one of my books and you can get your free copy by clicking this link here.
Once more, thanks a lot for your love and support.
Patricia Haverton
About the Book
They met and his love roared louder than the beasts haunting her...
For half-blind maid Lenora Foster, life in the service of the Duke of Brackhill is everything she’s ever known. Having experienced the mocking glances of the ton due to her disability, she keeps herself isolated in the darkest corners of the manor.
Pressured by his family to produce an heir, Adrian Sullivan, Marquess of Galdhor, finds himself attending a lackluster ball at Brackhill Manor. That is until he bumps into a peculiar maid with an eyepatch spying on the attendees.
With his heartbeat whispering Lenora’s name, Adrian fails to realize that someone knows. And someone who knows always tells.
Life in the service of the Duke of Brackhill is everything Lenora Foster has ever known. And within a few days, she is pronounced dead…
Chapter 1
It was a grand thing, Lenora thought, to live in the manor of a duke.
It was a grand thing to have the freedom to move about the manor, to see the well-appointed bedrooms as she made up the beds every morning and to smell the fine foods each time she visited the kitchen. To think that people lived like this! Lenora found it delightful to handle the fine clothes worn by the family she served. What must it be like to wear these clothes, to feel these fabrics against your skin all day?
Lenora did not dream of wealth. But she could not deny that the trappings of wealth were appealing.
Her own bedroom was at the very top of the manor, on the highest floor, tucked away under a vaulted ceiling so that she could only stand upright in the very center of the room. Her own clothes were simple muslin frocks. But every day she was permitted to visit the most beautiful rooms in the manor, and to clean and hang the most beautiful clothes.
Lady Katherine’s garments were especially fine. There were new gowns every week it seemed, and as the older gowns shifted to the back of Lady Katherine’s wardrobe, Lenora hoped that someday one of them might be given to her as a gift. She was only a chambermaid, it was true, but Lady Katherine had been known to bestow fine things on the maids before. Even one of the scullery maids had been given a silver comb that Lady Katherine no longer fancied.
But it was a vain hope, Lenora knew. Lady Katherine disliked her and always had. She was more likely to give a gift to one of the horses in the manor stables than to Lenora.
The truth was that most members of the household disliked Lenora, or at the very least, avoided her. She wasn’t sure what the reason for that was. It was certainly possible that they were simply avoiding her because they knew Lady Katherine didn’t approve of her. Lady Katherine was the daughter of the Duke of Brackhill, the Lord of the Manor, and she was known for her volatile temper. None of the household staff wanted to be on the receiving end of one of Lady Katherine’s fits, and if that meant staying away from Lenora, it was probably a small price to pay. Lenora couldn’t blame them.
There was, however, another possible cause for their avoidance. Lenora knew how uncomfortable people found it to look her in the eye.
Lenora herself had long since adjusted to the way her reflection looked. It wasn’t so bad to be blind in one eye, she thought, to have one eye that was milky white in color and useless. After all, her other eye was a bright green that she liked very much. She also liked her dark brown hair, which fell in waves to the middle of her back when it wasn’t carefully pinned up beneath her chambermaid’s bonnet. But for those unused to looking at her, Lenora knew, the eye was troubling. She usually wore an eyepatch to keep it covered as she went about her work.
She woke early, when the sun was still low in the sky, as was her habit. Rising before the other members of the household allowed her a few extra minutes at the start of the day to look out her window and to dream. The window was low to the floor, thanks to the size of the room—too low for a chair or a window seat. But Lenora could sink to her knees before it and look out at the duchy below her. It was a beautiful view, one utterly unequalled anywhere, she was sure, and she relished her time alone to take it in.
She sat and watched the sun rise, thinking about what today would bring. Lady Katherine’s ball was fast approaching, and there would be twice the usual amount of work, she knew. The lady’s maid, Isabel, would have need of her. Lenora was excited about the prospect of tending to Lady Katherine’s gown, which she had no doubt would be one of her newest and finest. It was likely to be one Lenora had never seen before, which was always a cause for high spirits.
If only she could attend the ball herself…
It was a ridiculous idea, a foolish fantasy. And yet, how could she help allowing herself to dream? How lovely it would be to dress in something fine like Lady Katherine did, to have her hair styled, to be guided around the dance floor by suitor after suitor in search of her hand. Lady Katherine would have her pick from among dozens of eligible bachelors.
And this would be only the first of several balls!
Lenora did not want to be envious of her Lady. There was no point to those feelings. As a chambermaid in a wealthy home, she was unlikely ever to marry. The Duke would not like his servants distracted with such things as courtship and child rearing. If she were to take a husband, she would very likely lose her position. And any man interested in her, a girl with no means, no titles, and one blind eye, would surely belong to the very-lowest class. She would be lucky to end with a roof over her head at all.
No, balls were not for her. It would be better to keep her attention where it belonged, on her responsibilities. As long as she kept the manor clean and didn’t shirk her duties, she would be able to stay on as a chambermaid to Lady Katherine for years to come.
And she would be able to witness the balls. That in itself would be a treat.
She changed out of her dressing gown and into one of her pale-yellow muslin dresses. She had sewed the garment herself, out of material the Duke had provided, and she was proud of the design. It was simple enough not to anger Lady Katherine, who hated to see Lenora in possession of any sort of finery, but it was well made and flattered Lenora’s figure. Carefully, she pinned her hair up, making sure it was secure enough that it wouldn’t fall out while she worked, and put her bonnet over it.
A good chambermaid was never seen, and Lenora strove
to be a good chambermaid. She waited in her room until she saw Lady Katherine emerge from the front doors of the manor and climb into a carriage. Where is my Lady off to this morning, I wonder? There was much yet to do before the first ball, which would take place tomorrow night. Surely Lady Katherine was needed at the manor for fittings and other preparations?
But Lenora did not mind her absence at all. Having Lady Katherine out of the manor would make it that much easier to get the day’s work done.
She descended the stairs and made her way to her Lady’s bedchamber. The bedclothes were in disarray, as usual, and Lady Katherine’s breakfast tray sat on the floor. Lenora had almost trodden in bowls of porridge on several occasions before mastering the habit of sidestepping the tray. Now she breezed past it as easily and gracefully as if she were dancing and set about the task of straightening up the bed.
Lenora took pride in her work. Lady Katherine might not like Lenora, but she would never have cause to complain that she was derelict in her duties. The room would be immaculate by the time Lenora was finished. When the bed was in perfect condition, she drew the curtains open to allow the day’s sunlight to warm the room. She would return to close the curtains in the evening so that her Lady might sleep peacefully.
She scrubbed the floor carefully, as she did every day, so that Lady Katherine would never suffer from dirty feet. She carried the chamber pot downstairs for the scullery maid to tend to and exchanged it for a bundle of coal. Back up in Lady Katherine’s chamber, she arranged the coal in a neat pile for lighting that evening.
She was in awe, sometimes, of how much work it took to restore Lady Katherine’s room to its proper condition each morning. Not that the work was difficult or unpleasant—but there were so very many things that needed to be done! She thought of her own room and the scant amount of work she put into keeping it in shape. She had no heavy-patterned drapes that needed to be tied back each day. Her darkness came from the simple fact of the sun going down at night. She had no fire that required coal to be carried up each morning. She kept herself warm with a quilt she had sewn from scraps.
Sometimes she thought it might actually be more difficult to live Lady Katherine’s life, to need as many things as her Lady did in order to feel content. Lenora woke up feeling happy almost every day with nothing more than her few meager possessions and a little space to call her own. She certainly didn’t need a chambermaid to come in and restore things for her every day.
But then, she supposed, it was lucky that Lady Katherine did feel the need for a chambermaid. If she hadn’t, Lenora would be without work.
She finished setting Lady Katherine’s chamber to rights and went down to the kitchen to see about getting something for breakfast. She would have many other responsibilities to tend to as the day went on, and it would be a good idea to get something to eat while she had the opportunity.
The path to the kitchen required her to pass through the main foyer, and as she approached, she saw that the Duchess was standing at the door and speaking to somebody. Lenora waited on the landing, hoping the Duchess would move on. Her Grace had never seemed quite as ill disposed toward Lenora as her daughter was, but Lenora knew the Duchess was far from fond of her. Today could go from busy to miserable in a hurry if the Duchess spotted her.
“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times,” the Duchess was saying. “White roses. Not pink. Take them back. I won’t pay for them.”
“Your Grace, begging your pardon, but there ain’t a white rose in the city,” a voice replied. Lenora leaned out over the bannister, trying to see who was there, and spotted a young man in the attire of a delivery boy. He held a bundle of roses of palest pink. “This here might be the closest you’ll find.”
“I tell you, I won’t pay for them. Take them back or scatter them in your privy, if it pleases you, but we won’t have them here.” The Duchess slammed the door in the young man’s face and whirled around. “Lenora! What are you doing?”
“I’m on my way to the kitchen, Your Grace.” Lenora inclined her head slightly, hoping the Duchess wouldn’t realize she had been eavesdropping.
“Well, come with me,” the Duchess said. “That oaf of a delivery boy failed to bring the white roses we need for Katherine’s ball tomorrow, and now we need to rethink the decorations. I’ll need your assistance in the ballroom.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Thinking sadly of breakfast, her stomach complaining with hunger, Lenora followed the Duchess into the ballroom. Always ornate and beautiful, the room had been elevated to reflect the magnificence of the occasion. White tulle hung from the sconces and white tapers sat in the manor’s finest candlesticks around the room.
“We’ve done the whole thing in white!” the Duchess fretted. “I simply don’t see how we can be expected to make a change now.”
Lenora waited quietly.
“White for purity,” the Duchess said sadly. “White for Katherine’s purity. And now what will her suitors think?”
That was a question. Perhaps Lenora might be permitted to answer? “Another color might pair well with the white,” she suggested. “You could accept the pink flowers and use them to complement the white.”
“Pink!” the Duchess spat. “Pink for passion. Pink for lustfulness. It would be a scandal! Only a foolish girl like you would think such a thing appropriate.”
Lenora fell quiet again.
“I suppose we might have purple flowers,” the Duchess said slowly. “Purple for royalty. That might do. Yes... purity and royalty. That would reflect well on Katherine.”
Lenora nodded respectfully.
“Run along and find that delivery boy,” the Duchess said imperiously. “Tell him purple flowers will be acceptable. But nothing cheap, mind! Hydrangeas. That would be lovely.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Lenora retreated from the room. She looked longingly at the kitchen as she ran through the foyer, but there was no time now to stop for something to eat. She would have to hurry if there was to be any hope of catching the delivery boy.
Thankfully, she found him just a short way down the road. He was walking slowly, kicking rocks as he went, and he seemed to be in a foul mood. “Boy!” she called after him.
He turned. “What you want, miss?”
“To deliver a message from My Lady. If there are no white flowers to be had, she says that purple will do. Hydrangeas, if you are able to get them.”
“Begging Miss’ pardon, but this job has been more trouble than it’s worth for what the Lady pays,” the boy grumbled.
“I understand,” Lenora said. “But I hope you’ll bring the flowers, nonetheless. It’s me she’ll punish if they don’t arrive.”
He nodded. “She’ll have her flowers. But she’ll have to find someone else to deliver them to her next time.”
That was all very well. Lenora thanked the delivery boy and headed back up to the house, relieved that she’d been able to make the necessary arrangements.
“Lenora!” a voice called as she went by.
She turned. Jimmy Bates, the stable hand, was leaning on his pitchfork. “Hello, Jimmy.”
“Where are you running off to this early?”
“I’m running back, not off.” She told him the story of the flowers and her pursuit of the delivery boy.
Jimmy laughed. “God forbid we have the wrong color flowers at the ball and Lady Katherine’s suitors think she’s a woman of loose morals! The ton would be scandalized.” He forked up a little hay and dropped it into one of the stables. “Have you eaten anything today?”
“You worry too much, Jimmy,” Lenora said, warmed nonetheless by his concern. Jimmy was one of the only people at the manor who seemed to care for her well-being. The two had grown up side-by-side; he working in the stables and she in the house, and now they were as close as brother and sister. If there was one person in this place Lenora could turn to, it was Jimmy.
But she couldn’t tell him everything. Right now, for instance, she didn�
��t want him to know how hard she’d been working this morning, that she hadn’t yet had a chance to take her breakfast. She was ever fearful that Jimmy would become angry at the way the Duchess or Lady Katherine treated her and let them glimpse his true feelings. If that happened, she knew, Jimmy would lose his position. He might end up out on the street. And she would never see her closest friend again.
“I don’t worry too much,” Jimmy countered. “I worry a proper amount. I worry that they work you ragged and that nobody in that manor is ensuring you ever get a decent meal. And I’m right, am I not?”
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