Seducing The Perfectly Enchanting Marquess (Steamy Historical Regency Romance)

by Scarlett Osborne

  And that is most assuredly not why I brought her here.

  He sat down at the heavy mahogany desk and rifled through the rest of his correspondence. Resolutely, he turned his thoughts away from Miss O’Neil. He needed the practice in doing so before the Dowager Marchioness arrived. While she was under his roof, he needed to be fastidious in his aloofness toward the young lady. He could not let the old lady suspect his growing, foolish infatuation.

  Chapter 9

  The Dowager Marchioness arrived in a flurry of pomp and circumstance. A small white dog trailed after her like a sentient cloud. Joseph hung back as Miss O’Neil greeted her friend on the stone steps that led to the front doors.

  “My Lady!” Miss O’Neil exclaimed, embracing the old lady and kissing her cheek as though she were a grandmother. “How wonderful to see you again. It feels like an age since the voyage.”

  “My girl!” the Dowager Marchioness exclaimed. “Why! The cruel Marquess has you dressed in rags!”

  Miss O’Neil blushed deeply, glancing anxiously at him as he strode forward to greet the Dowager Marchioness himself.

  “On the contrary, I quite like this dress,” she said.

  The Dowager Marchioness clicked her tongue at the him. “It’s a right sin to have her dressed in this drab grey with such a fine complexion as she has.”

  Joseph was chagrined. He bowed curtly toward the old lady. “Quite right, My Lady. I had thought that the uniform would simplify the governess’ mornings, but I see now that you are correct.

  He glanced at Miss O’Neil. The flush on her cheeks was exceedingly becoming and, for fear of his face giving away that opinion to the Dowager Marchioness, he looked away quickly.

  “You must have a pink gown made straight away. Pink is simply the girl’s color. You can never go wrong with pink on a young lady. I have not stationed her here to subject her to squander and hide away her youth and beauty, My Lord.”

  Miss O’Neil made an odd, strangled noise. Joseph couldn’t even chance looking at her now, for the sight of her suffering under embarrassment would be too charming not to laugh. The Dowager Marchioness would surely notice his inordinate fondness for the woman if he did.

  “Quite right, My Lady. Quite right, indeed. I shall send for one straight away.”

  “See that you do,” the Dowager Marchioness said definitively as she mounted the steps and strode into the manor.

  Joseph and Miss O’Neil trailed behind her, she was decked in furs and feathers. Miss O’Neil caught his eye behind the Dowager Marchioness’s back and, with her eyes wide with horror, she mouthed the words, “I’m so sorry!”

  Joseph grinned back.

  In the drawing room, the Dowager Marchioness settled herself like a queen in the grandest chair of the room, enshrined between two large picture windows that opened out to the bright day outside. The light curtains wafted gently in the lilac-scented breeze.

  Far from being offended by the Dowager Marchioness’s extravagance, he was quite beside himself with amusement. He sat to the Lady’s side, fighting laughter.

  “Well?” the Dowager Marchioness pronounced as the silly little dog hopped into her lap. “Tell me everything.”

  Miss O’Neil stammered. “Well, I…it’s been a delight so far. On my end at least.” She glanced shyly at him. Joseph’s jaw tightened. “Lady Heather is a darling child. Not difficult in the slightest. I enjoy my time with her very much. And the manor, of course, is magnificent. I feel most blessed to be able to live under its roof.”

  “It’s an odd house,” the Dowager Marchioness declared abruptly. “Odd like its Master, I’d say. Strange, isn’t it, how a home comes to reflect the very soul of its occupants?”

  “Quite,” Joseph said tensely.

  “Don’t take that icy tone with me. You know I mean no offense. Now, do tell me, in your own words, how you think my darling Miss O’Neil has been getting on here at Ethelred Manor. And bear in mind that I am quite fond of her and will brook no complaints.”

  Joseph chuckled. “She’s a perfect fit, My Lady. I am indebted to your wisdom in sending her to me. To my daughter, I mean.”

  He cringed inwardly.

  “Hmm,” the Dowager Marchioness intoned.

  He cringed harder.

  “I must thank you again,” Miss O’Neil broke in, coming to his rescue, “for teaching me so much that I am able to pass on to Lady Heather. When she comes out as a fine young lady, it will be thanks, in large part, to you.”

  “Nonsense, dearie. I merely polished you up a bit. A diamond is a diamond, no matter how in-the-rough.”

  Joseph’s gaze darted to Miss O’Neil just in time to catch a fresh blush that colored her fine cheeks. She’d never been lovelier, and he’d never found it so difficult to look away.

  “Now, I want to bring up the matter of—oh, what is it?” The Dowager Marchioness looked over his shoulder and Joseph turned around to see one of the maids hovering anxiously near the door.

  She curtsied low, looking askance nervously. “It’s Lady Heather, My Lord,” she said. “She has need of Miss O’Neil.”

  “Miss Green can handle it, can’t she?” he said. He’d always found the simpering of the maids somewhat irksome.

  The maid shook her head. “She is gone to market this morning. And the Miss asks for Miss O’Neil.”

  Miss O’Neil was already rising to her feet. “It’s no matter. I’m sure I’ll be right back. Do forgive me.”

  “By all means!” the Dowager Marchioness declared. “I came merely to observe, not to interrupt. Do hurry right back, though.”

  Miss O’Neil dashed from the room, leaving Joseph alone with the Dowager Marchioness, who was gazing fondly after her protégé.

  “Marvelous creature, is she not? Perfectly enchanting.”

  Joseph felt as if he were tiptoeing through a trap. “Marvelous. Yes,” he said with as much detachment as he could muster.

  Enchanting. Yes.

  “The first time I laid eyes on her, she was but a scrawny little thing sitting at the pianoforte at church. She plays like a virtuoso, although her manners were quite common at the time. I know greatness when I see it, though. I’ve always prided myself on my judgement of character. And I said to myself ‘That child will be a grand lady someday,’” the Dowager Marchioness said proudly, patting the dozing dog in her lap.

  “She plays the pianoforte?” Joseph asked calmly, though the information was startling to him. He could well imagine her, though, all grace and elegance, as beautiful music flowed from those shapely fingers. He made a mental note to ask her to play for him later.

  “Now, don’t tell me you have not heard her play yet? You must do so at once. Sings like a lark, too. She is far more than a common governess, Lord Ethelred. She is a boon to this house, you know. You must see that she exercises all her many talents, for I have plans for her and will not see her languishing.” The Lady patted her dog’s head. The dog, for his part, seemed to have lost all powers of animation. He looked more like a decorative pillow, now, curled up on his Lady’s lap.

  “What plans are those?” Joseph asked, wondering if he was showing too much interest.

  “She will be married, of course. I would not spend so much of my time finessing a young girl of common birth just to see her disappear from society as a governess, even if it is in such a fine estate as this. It was she who insisted upon this occupation, after the tragedy…”

  Joseph couldn’t help but raise a brow. “Tragedy?”

  “I suppose she wouldn’t have told you. No, she’s far too discreet and polite for that. But perhaps you should be made aware. See, I had already begun my machinations to match her with my son. I am so fond of her, you know, and wanted her as my daughter-in-law. Poor Edan, though. He was too late. By the time they were introduced, Miss O’Neil was already in love with a young lieutenant. Well, I could hardly object, Conor Walsh was a fine man. They were engaged when Conor caught fever,” she shuddered, the plume in her bonnet trembling.

/>   “Oh, it was dreadful. He lingered, suffering all the while. My only consolation is that they were not yet married when he died. She is far too young and lovely to be a widow.”

  Joseph leaned back in his chair as he listened to the tale. “How awful. I had no idea she’d been through such heartbreak.” His heart ached at the thought of Miss O’Neil’s grief. At the same time, however, he felt a kindred spirit with her at that moment, more than ever before. She too had known the loss of someone she loved. Had watched her lover die. She understood, then, that unique ache and agony. She, too, knew the deep loneliness that followed such a loss.

  “She carries her grief well. Another mark of the fine character and natural-born refinement. She looks as delicate and beautiful as a meadow flower, but she had a spine of steel, Lord Ethelred. She will walk upright and full of grace through any storms of life.”

  Joseph felt the corner of his lip quirk up in a slight grin at the Dowager Marchioness’ evident pride in her charge.

  “Well, I only pray that you do not see her married too soon. My Heather is already very attached to her governess.”

  “We shall see,” the lady said abstractly.

  The thought of Miss O’Neil being snatched away from his home and put in the arms of another man made his blood boil inordinately. His mind was filled with unbidden thoughts of her, soft, warm and naked in her marriage bed, giving herself to some undeserving Lord or other. His fingers formed into fists on the arms of the chair he was seated on.

  When Miss O’Neil rejoined them, he relaxed somewhat at the sight of her.

  “She had a bit of a mishap with a patch of mud in the garden,” She said, chuckling as she sat back down. “All is set to rights now.”

  “It is well that you are getting this experience, Miss O’Neil,” the Dowager Marchioness said. “Your own children will one day reap the benefits.”

  “Oh,” she blushed again.

  God, that blush.

  He imagined making the heat rise under her skin in different ways and how her eyes would shimmer when her maidenhood was taken. He swallowed thickly, casting his eyes to the rug.

  “I can only hope that any children that the Lord sees fit to bless me with in the future will be as delightful as Lady Heather.”

  “The Dowager Marchioness has just been telling me of your many accomplishments, Miss O’Neil,” he said, anxious to bring his mind back into safe waters. “It seems that I have been hiding your light under a bushel.” The biblical reference was, in part, a reminder to himself that when she spoke of the Lord blessing her with children, she meant the Almighty Lord, not him, not Lord Ethelred. Though her words quickened his blood all the same. She would undoubtedly, one day, be a mother. And a marvelous mother at that. One day, her belly would swell with the seed of another man.

  Focus, for God’s sake. This is no time to think of the business of begetting children…

  “Not at all,” Miss O’Neil began modestly, but the Dowager Marchioness broke in before she could finish her sentence.

  “Lord Ethelred is right. I think, now that you are well and settled here in England, you ought to be introduced to society.” She looked archly at him and Joseph smiled tightly.

  I see what you are suggesting, but I detest parties. I can’t do it. I won’t do it.

  “Too right. I should host a ball.” He could hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth. This Lady must have some sort of bewitchment over everyone she met. Somehow, he found it impossible to contradict her.

  The Dowager Marchioness clapped her hands together, startling awake the ridiculous dog in her lap. “Brilliant! Just brilliant! I commend you on your good sense, Lord Ethelred.”

  Miss O’Neil looked across at him, and she looked at how he felt. Her eyes were nervous, and she twisted her hands in her lap even as she forced a smile.

  Chapter 10

  The Dowager Marchioness stayed for only two days, and Amanda had a sneaking suspicion that she had only really come to strong-arm Lord Ethelred into hosting a ball.

  The thought of it made Amanda’s cheeks burn as she sat up the night after the lady left. She had her embroidery across her knees and was picking agitatedly at a disastrous knot that she had managed to form on the back of the taut fabric.

  She must know how she embarrassed me, acting as if I was a titled Lady simply condescending to act as a governess.

  Giving up on salvaging the lovely green thread, she attacked the knot with scissors. The light of the little fire in her room flickered and she brought the work closer to her face.

  What will people think when they hear that he is throwing a ball for the sake of his governess? It’s absurd.

  Finally, she gave her needle a tug and the knot slid through the fabric with a faintly audible pop. With a sigh of relief, she placed her scissors on the arm of her chair and leaned back, closing her eyes and letting her handwork fall to her lap.

  And all that nonsense about my clothes…

  Can’t she see that I just want a quiet life? I wasn’t born into wealth, and I don’t particularly care for it.

  There was no use in agonizing over these points, as the planning of the ball had already been set in motion, and it could not be canceled now. And yet, she couldn’t help but keep turning these thoughts over and over in her mind.

  The Dowager Marchioness did not understand the strain that these sorts of events put on Amanda. In the old lady’s eyes, it was merely a wonderful gift, plucking Amanda out of her common life and dropping her into the center of high society. What she didn’t see was the awkwardness when a gentleman or lady approached Amanda and she had to admit, one way or another, that she was nothing more than a baker’s daughter in borrowed silks. An imposter. A fake.

  Amanda remembered how Conor had laughed when Amanda, dressed in lilac satin and lace, explained to him her position in life. He had tipped his face up to a clear blue sky and laughed, saying that she had him fooled. How his eyes had glittered, though. If anything, the admission of her low birth had only made him seem to like her more. As if it were all just an amusing story that set her apart from the other ladies.

  He had been an exception, however. She was all too attuned to the slight frown and chilly reception she received from most after they found out that she was poor and only living off of the eccentric Dowager Marchioness’s strange fascination with her.

  It was agony, smiling as charmingly as she could while these wealthy people visited with her. All the while she could hear a small voice inside herself screaming, “I’m a fake! A fraud! I don’t belong here!”

  She slept fitfully that night, wondering how she would get through this ball with any semblance of grace. In the morning, the rain that pelted her window did nothing to lighten her spirits. As the sun rose, she quickly moved through her routine of dressing and eating before gently pushing aside the curtains in the nursery.

  Normally this was enough to rouse the sleeping child. The heavy clouds obscured the sun that morning, however, so no welcoming shaft of light fell across the girl’s face. Amanda sat gently on the edge of the bed and patted her shoulder.

  Lady Heather stirred slightly.

  “Lady Heather. It’s time to get up.”

  The small girl grimaced and pulled her blanket over her tousled head.

  Amanda chuckled. “If you get up and dressed and eat your breakfast without complaint, I will tell you about something exciting that is going to happen…”

  Lady Heather peeped one eye out from under her blankets.

  “What is it?” she asked groggily.

  Amanda shrugged. “You’ll have to do as I say to find out.”

  The girl stuck out her lower lip in a pout but she did as she was told. Amanda struggled with the girl’s hair, attempting to pull the coppery curls into plaits tight enough to contain them for the whole day.

  Once they were in the schoolroom which Lord Ethelred had furnished in plush chairs and an excess of bookshelves, Lady Heather set in to find out what it was that
Amanda has hinted at.

  “Are we going on holiday?” the girl asked, swinging her legs under the table.

  Amanda shook her head. “No, nothing like that.”

  “Has Father gotten me a present? Has he relented in getting me a second pony?”

  “A second pony?” Amanda clicked her tongue.

  “Well? Tell me what it is.”

  Amanda smiled, closing the book she had been attempting to read out of. She leaned her elbows on the table and looked across at the expectant girl.

  “Now, keep in mind that you are too young to attend, but your Father is holding a ball, here at Ethelred Manor.”