The Marquess In Her Bed (Steamy Historical Regency)

by Olivia Bennet

  “I suppose he did,” Cecilia said, sounding uncharacteristically shy.

  “You’re awfully shy all of a sudden,” Archie teased, “what were you and the Marquess talking about?”

  “I showed him the materials for the wardrobe and explained what we had been working on so far,” she told him, matter-of-factly.

  Cecilia paused and then continued to speak, “and we discussed the bookshelf problem.”

  “The bookshelf problem?” Archie asked in a tone of surprise.

  “The Marquess and I met in the library last week when I went to the estate with Papa to take measurements.”

  “And you discussed the bookshelf problem with him during that meeting?” Archie asked.

  “I did,” Cecilia replied. She was surprised to find that her cheeks were beginning to flush. Why should I be embarrassed that I spoke to him about a bookshelf? Why should I be embarrassed to tell Archie about anything?

  “He asked me about my work, and we discussed carpentry in general, my knowledge of geometry, and the problem of the proportions for the bookshelf,” she told him, managing to keep her voice steady. “He was asking me whether I had found a solution to the problem.”

  “I see,” said Archie, a note of skepticism in his voice.

  “I was quite surprised that he remembered our conversation at all, to be honest, it was quite brief. But he said that he had spent a great deal of time thinking about it, and even reading a geometry textbook to remind himself of what he learned at school.”

  “He sounds quite keen to continue his conversation with you in any way possible.” Archie observed.

  “I suppose so,” Cecilia said, blushing once again. “He did say that he wished I could teach him geometry, and that he suspected I would be a more effective teacher than his textbook. I suppose he might be right about that, too. Practical experience is superior to theoretical knowledge in my opinion.”

  “I quite agree with you about that,” said Archie, “but, Cece, you must realize that it would be entirely improper for you to act as his tutor.”

  “Of course, I realize that, Archie! In fact, I said as much to him today when we spoke.”

  Cecilia was becoming frustrated the longer they spoke. She appreciated that Archie wanted to protect her reputation; he had always acted as something of a big brother to her, but he could be overprotective at times.

  “All right, I’m sorry, Cece, of course, you told him that. I know that you know perfectly well how to behave. I just worry about whether the Marquess does.”

  “Why do you say that?” Cecilia asked.

  “Well, it seemed clear, from the way that he talked to you today that he finds you quite charming and attractive. That’s all well and good, although I pity his taste.”

  Cecilia yelled in mock anger at this, but Archie continued.

  “I just worry that he might pursue you,” he paused dramatically before continuing, “that he might have romantic intentions, but be unable to marry you.”

  Cecilia blushed in truth at these words. She felt the warmth spreading up her chest and across her face. She lowered her eyes, unable to meet Archie’s gaze as they continued their conversation.

  “Archie, you really mustn’t jump to such conclusions!” she said, with a note of shock in her voice, “who said anything about marriage?”

  “Well,” Archie said, in a kind voice, “no one said anything about marriage, and I don’t suppose that they will. That is the reason for my concern. The Marquess will be obliged to marry another member of the aristocracy, that is simply the way things are done.”

  Cecilia felt a tightening in her chest at these words. She knew that Archie only spoke the truth, but her heart was aching to hear it.

  “Of course, you are right, Archie, no doubt he will marry the daughter of another Duke or Earl,” she said, in what she hoped was a perfectly normal voice, “but I fail to see why the Marquess’ marriage prospects have anything to do with me.”

  Archie gave Cecilia a searching look for several seconds before speaking again. There was a note of sadness in his voice when he spoke to her.

  “I have heard stories,” he told her, “about members of the aristocracy who marry within their social class, but keep mistresses who are not of noble birth. It’s all well and good for the gentlemen, it’s expected of them really. But their mistresses are ruined.”

  “And you fear that the Marquess hopes to make me his mistress?” Cecilia asked, her voice beginning to rise in frustration. “Is that it?”

  “He might. I am simply saying that it is possible, and if it is true, I hope that you will have better sense than to agree to such an arrangement.”

  “Of course, I have better sense than that!” Cecilia scolded Archie. “I have no idea what plans the Marquess may or may not have planned with regards to me, but I very much doubt that he is the type of gentleman who seeks out a mistress. And even if he were that type of gentleman, Archie, you must know that I would never agree to such a proposal!”

  “No, of course, you wouldn’t.”

  “Honestly, Archie, I cannot believe you would even think such a thing of me.”

  Cecilia felt tears coming to her eyes and willed herself to hold them back. Archie is only trying to look out for me, I mustn’t be cross with him. Cecilia took two deep, calming breaths and steadied herself.

  “I’m sorry Cecilia,” Archie said, sounding quite genuine, “you are absolutely right. I know that you would never agree to such an arrangement, and it was foolish of me to worry about it. I only worried because we have no idea what sort of character the Marquess of Clive is. And although I’m sure we would both agree that it is unfair, it is possible for your reputation to be ruined simply by his asking, even if your answer is no.”

  Cecilia hated to admit it, but she knew that Archie was correct about this last point. She would need to be careful about her interactions with the Marquess in future.

  Cecilia felt relieved when her father returned to the shop a few minutes later with more steel nails. With all three of them hard at work in the shop, there was little possibility to continue the discussion about the Marquess and his intentions.

  Still, Cecilia struggled to focus on her work. Although they were no longer talking about her conversation with the Marquess, she could not stop her mind from wandering, trying to discern what his intentions toward her might be. Or honestly, whether he had intentions toward her at all.

  * * *

  Upon returning to the family’s estate, Nicholas handed his hat and coat to the butler and then returned to the library. He had hoped to peek into the secret passageway again, but when he entered, he found his sister sitting in a chair by the fireplace. Isobel was reading a novel, but looked up and smiled at her brother when he entered the room.

  “How was your visit with Lady Annette?” she asked with a coy smile.

  “We had a lovely visit,” he told her. “Mother was telling the truth, Lady Annette is a talented piano player. She played us several songs, and then we took a lovely walk in the grounds before returning home.”

  “That sounds perfectly pleasant,” Isobel said, and then added in a teasing voice, “and perfectly dull.”

  “Lady Annette is quite lovely, actually. To call her dull would be to do her a great injustice! Still, I was more intrigued by my conversation with Miss Baxter, the carpenter’s daughter.”

  He felt quite confident that he could tell Isobel these things without fear of judgement, or that the information would find its way back to his mother.

  Isobel smirked at her brother. He was nearly twelve years her senior, but they had always been quite close, and they were able to tease each other without fear of hurt feelings.

  “Did Mother see you speaking to the carpenter’s daughter? I can’t imagine she would approve of such an infatuation.” Isobel said.

  “She did see, but I don’t think that she heard any of our conversation. She asked me about it afterwards, and seemed satisfied with my explanation when I t
old her I was only making polite conversation,” he assured his younger sister. “Besides, after our visit with Lady Annette, Mother seems quite happily convinced that I am growing fond of the Earl’s daughter.”

  “Well, I suppose that would make her quite happy,” Isobel replied, “but you must know that she will be expecting you to announce your engagement any day now, if the visit was so successful.”

  “I know,” Nicholas replied, feeling the smallest twinge of guilt as he said the words, “it may be difficult to strike the right balance.”

  “And what of Lady Annette? Will she be expecting a forthcoming proposal as well?” Isobel asked, sounding genuinely concerned for Lady Annette’s happiness.

  “That is the best part, Izzy!” Nicholas replied, suddenly feeling much better about his plan. “Lady Annette is not interested in marriage, though her father is, of course, seeking to make an advantageous match for her. So we can both benefit from the illusion of courtship.”

  “Well,” said Isobel, casting a rueful smile at her brother, “it seems that the two of you have this all worked out, and I suppose you need no help from me.”

  Nicholas smiled back at her, and they sat in silence for a few minutes. Then Isobel spoke again.

  “What about the carpenter’s daughter?” she asked.

  “What about her?” Nicholas asked, confused.

  “Well, is she as taken with you as you are with her? Will she be expecting a proposal of marriage soon?”

  In truth, Nicholas had no answers to these questions, and so he said nothing. He sat in his favorite chair by the window and allowed himself to get lost in thoughts of Miss Baxter.

  Chapter 10

  Nicholas had lingered over supper with his family that evening, hoping they would all go to bed shortly thereafter. As it so happened, his father asked Nicholas to join him for a cigar in the drawing room after the meal was finished. Nicholas could hardly refuse this request. I suppose Mother and Izzy are likely to be abed by the time we finish our meeting.

  So, the two men stood up from the dinner table, bid the ladies goodnight, and walked together into the elegant drawing room.

  Nicholas had been told that he looked much as his father had at his age. He heard this from so many people, and for so long, that he supposed it must be true, although he knew that they looked quite different now. Both were tall, but as he approached the age of sixty, the Duke now had a pronounced stoop when he walked. His hair had been gray for as long as Nicholas could remember, but in the past year it had turned to white.

  Nicholas loved and respected his father, as all sons ought to do, but they had never been particularly close. The Duke had made sure to instill certain lessons in his son, who would, after all, be the next Duke of Huxley, but these had always had the feeling of formal lessons rather than affectionate interactions. Because of their history, Nicholas could not help but wonder why the Duke was asking him to have this after-dinner chat.

  As though he had read his son’s mind, the Duke said, “I suppose you’re wondering why I asked you to join me?”

  “Yes, Father,” Nicholas replied, “I did wonder about that. Shall we have our cigars, and you can enlighten me?”

  The Duke walked across the room to a handsome humidor, and opened it to reveal an impressive collection of expensive cigars. He removed two and held one to his nose, smelling deeply, and sighing with approval. He cut the ends, handed one to Nicholas and struck a match to light both.

  Before beginning their conversation, the Duke rang for the butler and requested brandy for himself and his son. He waited for the butler to return with their drinks and leave again before finally telling Nicholas why he had requested this meeting.

  “Your mother has told me that you visited the Lady Annette today,” he began.

  Nicholas confirmed this with a nod of the head while taking a deep pull on his cigar, and his father continued. “The Earl of Leicester is a colleague of mine in the Lords, a good man, with a good family. I’m told that his daughter is quite pretty.”

  “Yes,” said Nicholas, forcing himself to sound quite casual, “I suppose she is. We had a perfectly pleasant visit today.”

  “Your mother led me to believe that it was more than just ‘pleasant’, my son! She tells me that Lady Annette played the piano quite prettily.”

  “It is true,” Nicholas replied, “she is quite talented.”

  “Very good, very good!” the Duke said, seeming genuinely pleased. “And your mother tells me that you took a long walk in the grounds, and that you seemed quite engaged in your conversation with Lady Annette.”

  “We did, Father,” Nicholas paused here, unsure of how enthusiastic he should sound. “The estate has quite lovely gardens.”

  “Gardens?” said the Duke, sounding bemused.

  Nicholas realized he would need to be a bit more enthusiastic than that in order to make his plan work.

  “We walked in the gardens, which were quite lovely,” he told his father, “though not nearly so lovely as the young lady with whom I was walking.”

  This clearly pleased the Duke, who gave his son a roguish smile. “Nothing like a stroll through a pretty place, with a pretty lady, eh?” He winked at his son, conspiratorially.

  Nicholas could not help imagining himself strolling through the same lovely garden, arm in arm with Miss Baxter, and his lips turned up in a smile as he answered his father’s question. “No, I don’t suppose there is anything like it.”

  The Duke continued to smile, but Nicholas thought that he saw a hint of sadness in his eyes.

  “Son,” said the Duke, sounding more serious now, “I must admit that I am relieved to hear of your favorable impression of Lady Annette. I’m sure that you know your mother has been concerned about your marriage prospects for some time. If truth be told, I thought she was being a bit more anxious than the situation warranted, but now…” he paused here, as if unsure how to continue.

  After a moment, Nicholas finally asked “Father? Has something changed?”

  “Well, I’m…” he paused again, but only briefly, “I’m just not as young as I once was, as you can see!” And here he laughed and pointed to his thinning, white hair.

  “Oh, of course,” Nicholas said. He was trying to sound as though this made perfect sense to him. I suppose it does make sense after all, but it’s not as though he’s THAT old.

  “You shall be the next Duke of Huxley, of course.” his father continued. “So you must have an heir, as you know. I would feel better about the future, if I knew that you were married, that’s all.”

  “Certainly, Father, that makes sense,” Nicholas said, warily, “but surely there is still plenty of time for that!”

  “Perhaps,” his father said, sounding quite uncertain, “but perhaps not…”

  “Father, is there something that you want to tell me?” Nicholas asked, feeling concerned now.

  “Ah,” said the Duke, pausing for several seconds as he puffed on his cigar, and then took a long sip of his brandy.

  “Father?” Nicholas said again, after several seconds.

  “Well, I suppose you may have noticed that I have not quite been myself of late?” the Duke asked.

  Nicholas could not honestly say that he had noticed anything of the sort. “I’m sorry, Father, I had not noticed that. Is there something the matter?”

  “Nothing you will not be able to handle, my boy, nothing to worry about really. I’ve been feeling a bit unwell is all.”

  “Unwell?” said Nicholas, “In what way?”

  “Oh, I suppose it’s nothing, I have been feeling tired, having headaches, that sort of thing.” The Duke was trying to sound nonchalant, but Nicholas thought that he was more concerned than he was letting on.

  “Have you seen a physician?” Nicholas asked.

  “I have.” The Duke said, quietly. Nicholas looked at him expectantly, but the Duke did not offer anything further.

  Perhaps I should not ask more, if he is disinclined to talk about it,
but then why did he request that I join him here? I must find out what he knows.

  “And, what did the physician say when you spoke with him?” Nicholas asked, looking his father squarely in the eye.

  “Oh, you know how these doctors are,” the Duke said, with an unconvincing laugh. “Nothing useful to say, really. He has no idea why I haven’t been feeling well, in truth. But he did suggest that I should make sure that all of my affairs are in order, which is why I want to know that you are prepared to fulfill your obligations as the next Duke of Huxley.”

  “Make sure that all of your affairs are in order?” Nicholas asked, nonplussed. “But that makes it sound as though…”