To Love a Marquess (The Winters Sisters) (Regency Tales Book 21)

by Regina Darcy

  Lord Gregson nodded and, clearly sensing that she wished to end their conversation, moved away.

  “You must show a little more interest,” Theodora chided, gently. “There is nothing wrong with Lord Gregson. He is a kind gentleman and would do very well for you.”

  Ann prevented herself from rolling her eyes just in time.

  “And then there is Lord Lucas, who has also been very attentive.”

  “I do not wish to hear a list of gentlemen that you think I ought to consider, Theodora,” Ann replied, stiffly. “I know that you wish my best but I still cannot remove my attention from the Marquess of Penderstone.”

  A small groan slipped from Theodora’s mouth.

  “You are being quite ridiculous, Ann. Can you not see that he is nothing more than a rogue who, whilst he enjoys the company and conversation of those who surround him, has no intention for anything other than his own pleasures?”

  Ann winced, knowing that her sister spoke the truth but finding that she did not care.

  “I am certain that if he knew how I cared for him, that he might then reconsider his path,” she told Theodora, who threw up her hands in exasperation. “Surely there must be something in that?”

  “No!” Theodora exclaimed. “No, there is not. The gentleman has shown no interest in you. He only seeks women of easy virtue. You must forget him, if you can.”

  Ann sighed heavily and made to defend the Marquess again, only for another gentleman to come towards them, greeting them both.

  As she had done so often before, Ann drew in a breath, pasted on a smile and settled her shoulders, so that she appeared as gracious and as genteel as ever. In doing so, she found her dance-card to be slowly filling up with gentlemen seeking to dance with her, although her heart was not delighted with any of them.

  ***

  “Thank you, Miss Winters.”

  She smiled but did not speak, having forgotten the gentleman’s title and not seeking to embarrass herself.

  “I do look forward to our next dance later this evening.”

  “As do I,” she lied, allowing him to lead her from the floor. Looking about for her sister, she saw her conversing with an older lady whom Ann knew to be Lady Wiltshire. Excusing herself from her companion, Ann made to walk back towards her sister, only for something to capture her attention.

  Her breath caught. It was none other than the Marquess. He did not look to be particularly well, for he was holding onto the rail with two hands as he carefully climbed the short staircase that led from the ballroom. Ann hesitated, watching him as he reached the top. He swayed, before leaning forward and rubbing at his forehead.

  He is ill.

  Fear leapt into her throat.

  Where were his friends?

  Where were those who surrounded him almost constantly?

  Could they not see that he was unwell?

  Had they not thought to attend him as he struggled to find his way to somewhere he might rest?

  Without even hesitating, without even thinking, Ann hurried after him, making her way through the crowd of guests and never once removing her gaze from the Marquess’ retreating back.

  Unfortunately for Ann, the Marquess had disappeared from sight by the time she reached the top of the small staircase. It would be most unwise to go in search of him alone, Ann knew, but her concern for him outweighed all sense.

  She had to find him, she told herself. He might be vastly unwell and have no-one with him with which he might be able to depend. A doctor might be needed. Her heart hammered furiously – and with one quick look over her shoulder which confirmed that Theodora had not spotted her, Ann quickened her steps and walked forward towards the hallway and the rooms which lay beyond.

  “Lord Penderstone?”

  Her voice was quiet and tentative, her heart beating so quickly that she was certain the sound would echo off the walls. There were no servants to be seen, given that most of them would be busy working in the ballroom and taking care of the guests. Panic stole her breath. What would she do if she came across him, unwell and struggling for air? Whom could she call? She had to pray that there would be a bell or some such thing that she might ring in order to call for help.

  The sound of something crashing to the floor had her stop dead, listening carefully as to where it might have come from. The sound of muttering caught her ears, making her let out a long breath of relief. Apparently, the Marquess was not as unwell as she had feared, although she still had to discover him.

  Moving slowly along the hallway, her slipper-clad feet making very little noise, Ann suddenly saw a door that was a little ajar.

  Was that where the Marquess had gone?

  Was he within?

  Hurrying forward, she pushed the door open further, just in time to see the Marquess collapse backwards onto a couch.

  “My lord Penderstone!”

  She hurried in at once, her eyes wide with fear as she rushed to his side.

  “My lord, are you unwell?”

  The Marquess groaned aloud and managed to open one eye, his brow furrowed terribly. He did not look at all himself, his face pale and his eyes squinting at her.

  “My lord,” Ann said again, desperately. “What shall I do? Shall I call someone?”

  “You can just sit down here.”

  Much to her surprise – and her shock – the Marquess spoke with something of a slur to his words. A grin tipped the corner of his mouth, making it something of a leer, and his eyes closed again as he spoke.

  She realised the horrible truth, shame bursting over her as embarrassment sat like a crown on her head.

  The Marquess of Penderstone was in his cups.

  He was not unwell; he was not overcome with sickness. There was no need to call a doctor nor to fear that he would worsen without attention. It seemed that all he needed to do was to sleep and to recover from the amount of liquor he had imbibed.

  She closed her eyes, swaying slightly as she stood up from where she had bent over him. There was nothing for her to do at this present moment other than return to the ballroom. To stay here would be foolish indeed, for if they were discovered, then it would be disastrous for her reputation.

  Making to walk away as quickly as she could, knowing that to remain would bring shame not only on her but also upon her sisters, father and the Duke, Ann was astonished when the Marquess reached out and grasped her hand, holding it tightly. She had not expected him to do such a thing and certainly had not thought he would have enough strength to hold onto her with such determination.

  “My lord Penderstone,” she said, as firmly as she could despite the quickening of her heart. “I must return to the ball.”

  “No,” he said, decisively, his eyes opening again as he looked up with her. “I think you are to stay here with me.”

  Ann felt fear clutch at her heart – but it did not linger for long. the Marquess, clearly still in the clutches of too much liquor, soon loosened his grip upon her hand and, with his eyes fluttering closed again, fell back against the cushions.

  Ann went very still, not at all certain what the more prudent course of action would be.

  Her good sense told her that she ought to leave, as was proper, for to be caught in a room alone with the Marquess would be disastrous in terms of her reputation, for she knew precisely what the outcome of such as scandal would be.

  “It would mean that we would have to wed,” she whispered softly to herself, seeing the truth of it jump out at her and grasp at her heart.

  It was not at all what she should do, for to enter into a marriage under these sort of circumstances would not be conducive to either her or the Marquess’ happiness.

  But marriage was meant to last a lifetime, was it not? Therefore, she reasoned, even if they had a difficult beginning, with the Marquess angry with what had occurred, he might come to love her in the end. Besides which, she would not be entirely to blame, given that he had caught her hand and begged her to stay.

  Guilt twisted her hea
rt. Ann knew full well what she should do but the longings of her heart were making it more than a little difficult to think clearly.

  Looking down upon the Marquess, seeing the handsomeness of his face and recalling the heroic way he had saved Beatrice from her spooked horse filled her with both deep affection and an unrelenting longing that would not leave her. But yet, in the midst of it all, the thought of her sister Theodora made her reconsider.

  Theodora had been very good to her in ensuring that Ann had the most wonderful of Seasons, in the hope that she would find love and security in the same way as both Theodora and Ann’s other sisters, Caroline and Beatrice had done. It would not be fair to Theodora to behave in an uncouth manner that would bring about disgrace to the Vice-county of Lockley or the Duchy of Sotheby. As much as she desired to linger, as much as she wanted to stay with the Marquess and to force them into marriage, Ann knew she could not do so.

  With a long, heavy sigh and a deep sense of regret, Ann turned away from the Marquess and began to walk towards the door with purposeful steps. She had to get out of the room as quickly and quietly as possible.

  “Wait!”

  The Marquess’ voice was still slurred, his hand reaching for her as he attempted to stand.

  “I should leave you, my lord,” Ann replied, firmly, even though the longing in her heart was increasing all the more. “It is unwise for me to remain.”

  “But such a beauty as you needs to be by my side,” the Marquess insisted, staggering towards her with a look of confusion on his face. “I insist upon it.”

  Ann let out a long, slow breath, wishing that those words had been spoken to her when he had not been in his cups.

  Telling herself that she was doing the right thing, she moved again towards the door and tried to smile.

  “Do excuse me, Lord Penderstone,” she told him, as he began to quicken his staggering steps. “I must depart.”

  However, just as she turned to open the door and pull it open, the Marquess’ hand landed hard on her shoulder. He lost his balance and leaned down on her heavily, just as the door was pushed open by someone unknown.

  A stifled scream escaped from Ann’s mouth as she fell to the floor, with the Marquess staggering forward and ending up practically on top of her. The air pushed out from her lungs, rendering her speechless, as she lay flat on her back, trying to make sense of what had just occurred.

  “Ann!”

  Theodora had come into the room, having evidently been in search of her wayward sister. Accompanied with her was the Duke, who was glaring at the prone form of the Marquess, who did not move in the slightest even though one of his legs was on top of Ann’s and his shoulder pressing hard into her chest.

  “I was trying to leave,” Ann whimpered, finding it difficult to drag in air. “I was attempting to leave his side but he was determined to have me stay.”

  The Duke grunted, pushed the Marquess to the side and kicked him hard in the chest, his anger clearly visible in his expression. Hurriedly, Theodora closed the door tight and then reached down to help Ann to her feet.

  Hot tears sprang into Ann’s eyes at the look on her sister’s face. Despite her attempts to behave in an appropriate manner, somehow Ann had managed to make everything as bad as it could possibly be.

  “Whatever were you doing following him, Ann?” Theodora asked, as the Duke prodded the Marquess with the toe of his boot. “I saw you leave the ballroom and had very little idea as to where you had gone!”

  Ann stifled a sob, aware that she had no excuses with which to defend herself.

  “I thought that he was ill and feared that he had no-one who might aid him,” she told Theodora, praying that her sister would believe her. “When I realised he was in his cups, I made to leave but he was eager for me to remain. It is as you see here now.” She gestured to the Marquess, who was now groaning and attempting to sit up.

  “I did not think that he would try to be so forceful in his attempts.” Blinking back her tears, she looked into Theodora’s face and saw her sister’s struggle to believe her. It broke Ann’s heart to realise that Theodora did not trust that she spoke the truth. She was upset that she had almost behaved as foolishly as Theodora suspected.

  “I did not behave as I should have,” she admitted, hoarsely. “I should have never followed the Marquess alone. I know that now, Theodora.”

  Theodora took in a long breath, let it out slowly and then wrapped one arm around Ann’s shoulders.

  “It was foolish indeed,” she admitted, her voice gentle. “And yet, it is done. The Marquess, if he did behave as you have described, should not have tried to hold you back. Now, it seems, we must have a betrothal.” Her expression grew grim. “It seems you are to wed the Marquess of Penderstone after all, Ann.”

  Closing her eyes, Ann allowed tears to spill down her cheeks, wondering why she did not feel content nor happy, for now all she could feel was sadness and regret.

  FOUR

  “Your guests are waiting, my lord.”

  Charles blinked rapidly, trying to recall who it was that had been residing with him. He could not remember bringing anyone back to his townhouse last evening but, then again, he could not recall very much about it at all.

  “Might I ask,” he began, slowly, seeing his butler’s eyebrow lift slowly. “Which guests are you referring to?”

  The butler cleared his throat gently. “The very same who brought you home last evening, my lord,” he replied, without even a hint of an accusatory tone. “They returned this morning and said they would wait until you were ready to greet them.”

  Charles swallowed hard, his fork halfway to his mouth. He had been busy enjoying a late breakfast and had not even known that guests were present in his house.

  He sighed deeply. How could he not have recalled that he was to have callers this afternoon? It was a little too early for morning callers, which meant that perhaps there was a little more seriousness to the matter in hand. He put down his fork, no longer feeling hungry, and drained the rest of his tea.

  “I shall go to them at once,” he murmured, getting up from his seat. “In the parlour, did you say?”

  “I did, my lord,” the butler replied, inclining his head. “And shall I have more refreshments sent?”

  Charles cleared his throat, not wanting to show the butler that he was a tad bit concerned about the unexpected visit.

  “How long have they been waiting?” he asked, as nonchalantly as possible.

  “A full hour, Lord Penderstone.”

  Groaning inwardly, Charles nodded as though this was not unexpected.

  “Then yes, have some more refreshments brought,” he stated, straightening his cravat even though it was already impeccable. “And ensure there are a good few things to eat, in case they are hungry.” The butler made to leave but Charles prevented him from doing so with a lift of his hand.

  “My lord?”

  A little embarrassed, Charles gave him an enigmatic smile.

  “You may put it down to the clouds that are in my head this morning, Matthews, but might you remind me of the names of my guests?”

  The butler did not even blink. “The Duke and Duchess of Sotheby, my lord,” he told him, making Charles frown. “And Miss Winters.”

  “The Duchess’ sister,” Charles remembered aloud.

  His frown deepened, wondering what could possibly have sent the Duke, Duchess and Miss Winters to his door at such an early hour. Shrugging, he turned from the table and made his way to the door, thinking that perhaps it was simply that they wished to ensure he was quite well after bringing him home last evening.

  Wincing, Charles recalled that he had been rather in his cups at the ball, having found an excellent brandy situated in the card room and discovering that he quite enjoyed it. There was not much else that he recalled, save for the fact that an elegant beauty had been with him at some point, although he could not quite make out her face and certainly could not remember her name. He had awoken this morning with a
great weight lying on his head but, since it was not the first time that such a thing had occurred, Charles had known precisely what to do.

  He had drunk three glasses of water, bathed in tepid water and then forced himself to dress and walk around the gardens. This had been followed with a hearty breakfast and a good deal of coffee and, as it always did, had left Charles in a much better state than when he had first awoken. It was his tradition whenever he had drunk a little too much, for one could not miss the following evening’s entertainment for the sake of a sore head!

  Clearing his throat and pressing his fingers to his cravat again, Charles took in a quick breath, ran his hand through his hair and walked into the parlour.

  His welcoming greeting was met by three murmurs matched by three expressionless faces. None of them seemed to be glad to see him and Charles immediately felt a deep sense of unease.

  “Please accept my apologies,” he said, with a quick bow. “I did not recall that you were waiting and my butler just informed me of your presence.”

  Miss Winters threw a quick glance towards her sister, who was staring, stony-faced, at him.

  “You do not recall the events of last evening then,” Miss Winters murmured. There was apprehension in her eyes. “You do not recall a single thing?”

  “No,” Charles replied, with a small shrug. “Aside from enjoying an excellent brandy and being in some excellent company, I am afraid that I do not.” He gestured for them to sit down.

  “Please.” Just as he did so, the door opened and refreshments were brought in. “Miss Winters, if you will pour the tea, I would be very grateful.”

  Miss Winters stared at him for a long moment, her eyes wide and her hands fluttering slightly in her lap. He could not understand what had come over the girl. He looked at her intently and waited patiently for her to do as he had asked. Surely he was not being rude with his request for her to do so?

  “I think, Penderstone, that we have something of great weight to discuss and I will not allow you to put me from my task by pretence.”