A Marquess for Marigold: The Blooming Brides Book 2

by St. Clair, Ellie

  “She found no one else,” he said, halting Westwood’s words. “She died.”

  “Oh.”

  That silenced Westwood, though not in the way Jacob would have preferred.

  “While you were gone?” he finally asked after a few moments, and Jacob shook his head.

  “Before. ’Twas why I went to war. To get away. So no, Westwood, I have no wish to return, for there is no one waiting for me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I will return to my rooms once more.”

  As he exited the room, he could hear Westwood calling out his apologies, but Jacob ignored him and continued walking. He had thought he had needed company, but of that, he was completely and utterly wrong.

  4

  For the second night in a row, the soldier asked for supper in his room. Last night, Iris had been eager to be the one to bring him his food, but tonight she had no wish to do so — none of them did.

  “He says not a word. Just grunts about everything,” Iris said as she wrinkled her nose. “I am beginning to wonder whether he even speaks English.”

  “Oh, I can assure you that he does,” said Marigold, remembering the one conversation they had shared.

  “Well, if he will speak to you, then I think you should go,” Iris said, crossing her arms over her chest. “We will serve the other man.”

  “You only want to do so because you think he is handsome,” Marigold said, raising her eyebrows at her sister, but Iris merely shrugged, not denying it. There was one thing Marigold could say about the girl — she was always honest.

  “He is handsome,” she said. “Send Violet if you do not want to go.”

  “I’ll go,” Violet said, though when Marigold looked over at her, she was biting her lip so hard, she knew she couldn’t send her. Not for the first time, she wished Daisy was here. Daisy would march up the stairs with her head held high, knock on the door of the man’s room and tell him just exactly what she thought of the way he had spoken to her sister. But Daisy was not here. She was in London, running the household and the estates of a duke. Though she had promised to visit Southwold before they retired to their country home for the summer, which Marigold was looking forward to with endless anticipation.

  “I’ll go,” she said, walking over to the counter and beginning to prepare a plate for the man before reluctantly climbing with it, on the lookout for Clover, relieved that he wasn’t following her. The last thing she needed was another scene such as the previous one in which the man had all but kicked her dog out of the room.

  When she approached his chamber, she reached out a hand to knock but found that the door was already opened a foot or so. She knocked on it anyway, and it swung open, but obviously Lord Dorchester, as she had come to find out was his name, was not aware of her presence. He stood there looking down at Clover sitting at his feet, his head tilted as Lord Dorchester spoke to him.

  “You cannot come in here any longer,” he said, waving a finger at the dog, who leaned forward and licked it, but the man snatched it back. “You may be a winsome thing and you obviously know it, but I cannot have you in here whenever you please. We are not friends, and we cannot become friends, do you understand?”

  The dog gave a little whine as though he understood what he was being told, and then jumped up on Lord Dorchester’s leg, but the man quickly stepped back.

  “I said no,” he repeated. “Do you understand? Now, who owns you and why have they allowed you in here once more when I expressly said I had no wish for you to be around me?”

  “That would be me,” Marigold said as she rushed into the room now, and the man straightened suddenly, as he had clearly no idea anyone was listening to his speech. “I am so very sorry. I didn’t realize he was in this part of the building. I will take him right away. And here, I have brought your supper.”

  She placed the food, which Clover had wandered over to sniff, on the small sideboard as she scooped up the puppy and began to back out of the room.

  “Again,” she said, “my apologies. It seems he has taken a liking to you.”

  The man raised his eyebrows, before his lips curled into a bit of a snarl.

  “Why that would be, I have no idea. Please, do keep him away. I have no wish to become attached to this dog."

  Marigold nodded and left the room. As she started down the stairs, at first her anger clouded everything else. She still didn't understand a person who would not welcome the presence of a cute puppy, although she reminded herself that she had to realize that not all people liked animals the way that she did. But then something about the way he had worded everything struck a chord within her. He had said that he did not want to become attached to the dog — which meant there was certainly a possibility that he could have some affection, that he knew what it was like to become close with an animal. Had he loved and lost such a dog before? Is that why he resisted Clover’s presence? It was an interesting thought and one of which she would be curious to learn more. For perhaps, if he had previously found love in his heart for such an animal, he could do so again. And maybe Clover could be the one to help.

  * * *

  Jacob paced around his room. Why did that dog continue to pester him so? It was bad enough he had to continue to tell the dog to shoo, but now the woman was bothering him as well. He wished she wouldn’t. Each time he encountered her, she looked upon him much differently than most others did. For instead of being scared or pity filled, those blue eyes seemed to cut into him much deeper, so that it was like they were piercing through him — just as the sword had — and into his very soul.

  He didn’t like it. Not one bit. Only one other person had ever been able to get through to him like that, and that had been his wife. He certainly had no desire to ever allow it to happen again.

  Finally, his chest began to ache from his exertions, and he took his seat in front of the plate the woman — one of the Misses Tavners, though he had yet to learn all of their names — had left for him.

  He ate what he could, and while he had no complaints, he couldn’t seem to work up much of an appetite these days. Jacob knew he had become far too lean, but the truth was, he didn’t overly care at this point.

  He had just sat back when another knock sounded at the door, and he rolled his eyes. What could it be this time? For a place where he was supposed to be allowed to relax and recover, he was certainly bothered an inordinate amount.

  When Jacob opened the door, there she was again, a smile clearly forced onto her face.

  “Did you lose once more?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, and she cocked her head as she looked at him.

  “I’m not sure what you mean?”

  “You are here within my chambers once again,” he said. “It is obviously not a task that you and your sisters are fighting over.”

  “We are all happy to do what we can to ensure that your stay is enjoyable, Lord Dorchester,” she said politely. “Would you allow me to come collect your plate?”

  “Very well,” he said, waving a hand inside. “Next time I will leave it outside in the corridor for you.”

  She nodded as she crossed the room and collected the plate. She exited and he had the door half closed already behind her when she whirled around.

  “Oh, Lord Dorchester?”

  “Yes?” he said with a sigh, not hiding his exasperation.

  “Tomorrow is the first day of Southwold’s street fair. There are to be plenty of festivities, with entertainment of all sorts as well as every food and vendor you could imagine. It is always quite fun, and I would highly suggest it would be a welcome diversion to lift your spirits.”

  She smiled prettily at him, and for a moment Jacob was tempted. Tempted by the idea of getting out into the sunshine, of seeing all that this fair had to offer — of seeing life for a change instead of the death he had been surrounded by, first at home and then during the war. And he was, if he must admit it, somewhat tempted by this girl, with her eager, encouraging smile, and her gentle manner. Why she persisted in attempting to c
heer him, he had no idea, but he wished she would stop, for each time it was becoming more and more difficult to resist her efforts, with the dog, her kindness, and now her offers of fun and amusement.

  But he must resist her — and all that she offered. For it would only be a momentary distraction, and then life would return to the way it was, and it would feel that much emptier once more.

  “I have no desire to attend a street fair,” he said, and when her face fell he felt something of an ogre, but he wasn’t sure how else to dissuade her.

  “I just thought… I know there is not much else to do in Southwold,” she said. “And while I realize you will not know many people, my sisters and I are happy to show you around, introduce you to more—”

  “My desire to meet new people is nearly the same as my desire to attend such a thing,” he said, realizing how ungrateful his words sounded, but they were true. He could barely stomach the company of Westwood downstairs.

  “I know the people of our town are not the lords and ladies you are used to,” she began defensively, and he held up a hand.

  “It has nothing to do with their station in life. I could not care less about that,” he said. “I have served on the front lines with men of every background and was more than happy to do so. It is people. People themselves. I want to be alone, Miss Tavners. Why is that so hard for you to understand?”

  She bristled at his words, and he knew how harsh they sounded, yet he had to make her understand so she would quit making such suggestions. It seemed, blessedly, that this time he had finally gotten through to her.

  “Very well,” she said quietly. “I will no longer disturb you with any such ideas. Goodnight, Lord Dorchester.”

  As she turned and walked down the hall, Jacob didn’t miss the droop of her shoulders or the hurt that had flashed in her eyes before she had turned from him. He hoped she would forget him — aside from what he required as a guest — and move on. He had no wish to break her spirit. He simply didn’t want her reviving his own.

  5

  Marigold was determined not to allow one man’s surly rudeness to dampen her own excitement for the day that lay ahead. She and her sisters always looked forward to Southwold’s annual street fair, and this year was no exception, besides the fact, of course, that Daisy wouldn’t be present, which Marigold regretted. But, this was something she was going to have to become used to, she realized. She, Iris, and Violet stepped into the warm sunshine with smiles on their faces, particularly when Millie came up to greet them.

  “Good morning!” Millie exclaimed. She and Daisy had always been the best of friends, but she shared a friendship with the other sisters as well, and they found themselves becoming closer as of late.

  “Good morning,” they greeted her, and Clover yapped excitedly with his own welcome. Marigold had tried to leave him in the inn, afraid that he would become lost in the crowds, but he would have none of it. He insisted on accompanying them, particularly when he could hear all of the resounding festivities from outside the front of the house.

  “What a cute little puppy!” Millie exclaimed, bending to greet him, and Marigold couldn’t help compare what she felt was an appropriate reaction to a darling dog with that of Lord Dorchester. Not that it should matter to her what he thought or how he acted. He was simply one of their boarders and if he chose to remain in pain, hiding his emotions from the world, then so be it.

  Much of the fair was taking place just outside The Wild Rose Inn, and the women made their way through the crowds, greeting various vendors and villagers. The smell of roasted almonds, Banbury cakes, and baked apples filled the air, causing Marigold’s stomach to rumble. She saw Clover sniffing excitedly as though he, too, would be more than happy to sample some of what the vendors were selling.

  “Soon enough, little one,” she said with a laugh as they stopped for a moment to listen to a group of musicians and watched a man juggle nearby.

  Despite all that was happening around her, however, Marigold suddenly felt as though someone was watching her. She had no idea from where the sensation came, but she turned one way and then another to see if she could determine what had spooked her. Finally, her gaze was drawn up, and it caught on one of the side windows of the inn. There above her was Lord Dorchester. Had she not known any better, she might have thought him a ghost, staring down from an upstairs window of the building he was haunting. He was so still, she could hardly believe she had even seen him, and she had no idea what had caused her to take notice of him.

  Despite the distance between them, she could have sworn he was looking upon her as well, and she had no idea how to respond.

  “Marigold?” Violet said, urging her to turn back toward her sister, and she apologized for her lack of attention.

  She looked upstairs one more time and saw him still there. Did he wish he were out with them? She couldn’t see how someone could remain so aloof, despite whatever must have happened to him in the war. Marigold had promised herself not to spare him one more thought or a bit of attention, but she couldn’t help herself. She could sense his loss and despair, and now she raised a hand to wave him down to the street. She wasn’t sure whether he still watched her or not, for he made no move of response, though he suddenly vanished in a very spirit-like fashion.

  “Who are you waving at?” Iris asked, and when Marigold responded, she snorted. “I do not understand why you would wish for the company of that man for one moment. I do not believe I have ever met a ruder person in all of my life!”

  “I believe there is a reason for his rudeness,” Marigold said, but Iris wasn’t having any of it.

  “That doesn’t mean he has to treat us as he does,” she said, with which Marigold also agreed. “Regardless, I have no wish for his company and neither should you.”

  Iris paused, as something — or someone — captured her attention.

  “Someone else, however…” she murmured before taking her leave, and Marigold watched her greet Lord Westwood.

  Marigold sighed, for Iris was right, and she returned her attention to the entertainment in front of her, clapping when the musicians finished their lusty song.

  Clover seemed to sense the excitement, for he started yapping excitedly and jumping at her feet.

  “Did you like that, Clover?” she asked with a bit of a laugh, but then his attention was captured by something else, something away from the crowds.

  “What is it?” she asked, looking to where he was barking but unable to see anything untoward. Maybe he was simply excited. But then he broke away and began running through the throng of people. Marigold called after him, but when he didn’t turn, she took off at a run, following him in his own pursuit.

  She managed to keep his little white and brown body in sight, and Marigold knew she should have left him at home as she had originally thought. He was only a puppy — of course, he wasn’t going to stay still or next to her, and the chance of him getting lost in this crowd was high.

  Finally, he stopped, and Marigold rounded the last vendor’s table to see where he was and what had caught his attention. He was sitting in front of a figure — the same one she had seen but moments before, through the window of the inn.

  “Lord Dorchester,” she said with some surprise. “You decided to come after all.”

  “I was becoming rather warm in my room, so I decided I would do as my physician ordered and find my way to the beach,” he said, his expression distant. “I am just passing through this way.”

  “I see,” she said, though she couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t want to admit that he was interested in seeing more of the street festival. “While you’re here, why don’t you come see some of what’s on offer?”

  “No, thank you,” he said, turning away from her, but she reached out and caught his sleeve.

  “Please come,” she said. “You’ll enjoy it, I promise.”

  He snatched his arm back, although he didn’t move away.

  “I will, will I?” he asked, an eyebrow ra
ised as he looked at her with something akin to a scowl on his face.

  “I believe you will,” she said with a nod. “And if you do not, I promise I shall not bother you again for the remainder of your stay here.”

  “That is certainly an interesting proposition,” he said with a bit of a smirk. “I will accept. But I do have a question for you, Miss Tavners.”

  “Very well,” she said, thinking he likely wanted to know more about the fair or some of the vendors.

  “Why do you care? Why would you even want my company at all?”

  Marigold raised her eyebrows at his question, hesitating for a moment before answering. Because the truth was, she wasn’t entirely sure why she cared. She supposed it was because she had always found it hard to disregard someone in need, and Lord Dorchester certainly seemed to be such a person. Yes, he was rude, and clearly enjoyed distancing himself from all others — why, she wasn’t sure, but she had a feeling there was much hurt and pain behind whatever it was that caused him to act as he did. She wanted to help him — truly she did — she just didn’t know how. She should let it go, as Iris suggested. But Marigold had never liked giving up on people, just as she was always the one to save an animal if she could, no matter what others may think.

  “Have you ever had roasted almonds, Lord Dorchester?” she asked, smiling.

  He shook his head.

  “Well, you are in for a treat, then, my lord,” she said with a true grin, for never had she known anyone to not enjoy roasted almonds.

  She led him through the throngs of the crowd, noting that Clover stayed close — although just as close to Lord Dorchester as he did to her. Little traitor, she thought, but with some humor.

  “Hello, Gus!” she greeted the man who was currently roasting the almonds. “This is one of our current boarders, Lord Dorchester. He has never tried roasted almonds, if you can believe it?”

  “I surely cannot,” said the man, a gentle giant who Marigold had known her entire life — as she did most of the villagers. “You are in for a treat, my lord.”