Seducing The Perfectly Enchanting Marquess (Steamy Historical Regency Romance)

by Scarlett Osborne

  Amanda was about to answer when Lord Ethelred and Lady Heather came into the foyer from the west hallway.

  “Lord Pemperose,” Joseph greeted in a loud voice that chased away any remaining uncomfortable intimacy between herself and the Earl. Immediately, Amanda felt herself relax.

  Joseph came to stand next to her, her shoulder nearly touching his arm. His protection was unmistakable. Unlike the hapless butler, Joseph seemed to read the heightened energy in the room right away.

  “You can guess why I’ve come,” the Earl said with a slight bow of the head.

  Joseph gave a nearly imperceptible sigh of annoyance, but his well-bred manners prevented him from turning the Earl away.

  “Of course. If you wish to have this conversation once again, we can do so in the library.”

  He turned to Amanda. Lightly, he placed his fingertips on her upper arm, but seeming to catch himself, and he let his arm fall. “Go on ahead. I’ll catch up.”

  Amanda nodded silently. She wrapped the light shawl over Lady Heather’s shoulders and, hand in hand, they walked out the wide front doors.

  * * *

  Joseph clenched his jaw. The Earl of Pemperose’s attempts to squire his vineyards for himself were becoming most annoying. For years now, he had been making monthly, sometimes weekly, visits to Ethelred Manor to inquire again and again.

  Joseph had no particular interest in generating income from his vineyard. It stocked his own wine cellar, and he enjoyed the look of the stately rows of vines. Heather liked to dash down the long aisles and eat grapes by the handful.

  Apparently, utilizing the vineyard in this way was personally offensive to the Earl of Pemperose, who seemed to see it as his duty to make every inch of land visible from his home profitable.

  Still, the routine had become rote by this point. The Earl came. He talked for a bit about how much less Joseph would have to worry about if he had the vineyard taken off his hands. Joseph refused. They had a brandy, perhaps, just to give the meeting a veneer of friendliness. And then Pemperose left.

  “We were just heading out to go and walk in the vineyard, actually,” he said as he led the Earl into the library.

  “With your sprawling gardens, how odd that you should prefer to walk there,” the Earl countered.

  “Well, Lady Heather enjoys it.”

  And thus began the familiar song and dance. The routine was so dull that, when the butler arrived with a letter on a silver dish, Joseph took it and opened it, reading even as the Earl continued to talk.

  His eyebrows raised at the fine script on the thick parchment.

  “Bad news?” Lord Pemperose asked, interrupting himself.

  Joseph pressed his lips together. “Not bad, no. Just a bit odd. My governess is the protégé of the Dowager Marchioness of Brubrun, as you know. She’s invited the three of us to visit her in London.” He was speaking mostly to himself.

  “A bit odd, is it not? Having your governess with one foot in the ton and one foot in domestic work?”

  Joseph gave a noncommittal shrug.

  “Will you go?”

  Joseph looked up, folding the note and sliding it into his front pocket. “I suppose I will leave that up to Miss O’Neil. In fact, I’d like to bring this to her straight away,” he said, rising from his seat.

  “But I…”

  “Lord Pemperose, you knew before you came here what my answer would be about the vineyard. Let’s not waste each other’s time.”

  Lord Pemperose’s jaw flexed, but he forced his lips into a smile. “I will keep asking until you relent.”

  “Well, it’s good to have a hobby.” Joseph countered. “Come, I will walk with you to the door.”

  Joseph saw the Earl back into his carriage and watched it roll away for a moment before taking off in the direction of the vineyard. The rows of vines stretched down a long sloping field at the top of which he could just make out the backs of Amanda and Heather.

  The thought of perhaps bringing Amanda to an opera or an art exhibition in London made his heart skip a beat. He’d not done anything like that since Teresa’s passing. Heather, of course, would be over the moon at the thought of a London adventure.

  He hoped that Amanda would accept the invitation. He could buy her some new dresses. He’d once been a fixture in London society and it would be fun to show her the sights and all his old haunts.

  He jogged to catch up with them and was slightly winded by the time they turned around. Heather grinned widely, and Amanda bit her lip. Her hair was being blown loose by the breeze, which had picked up. Standing there, hand in hand in the long rows of vines with his daughter, she looked like a painting. There seemed to be a glow about her, a warmth. He wished he could have taken her into his arms again right there.

  “I’ve never seen you run like that, Father!” Heather said.

  The adults laughed, watching Joseph gulping down his breaths. He was not as young as he once was. “I had to catch up,” he said through his laughter. “I have a letter from the Dowager Marchioness.”

  “Oh?” Amanda asked, taking the note from him when he handed it to her. There was a slight trepidation to her voice, as though she worried that the Dowager Marchioness had done something outrageous once again. He watched her eyes travel down the sheet, and her eyebrows raised just as his had done. “Oh. Is…is that all right? What do you think?” she asked him.

  “Think about what?” Heather asked, standing on her tiptoes to try and spy the letter.

  Joseph took the letter back and raised it higher so that Heather couldn’t read it.

  “It’s all right by me. I wanted to know what you thought first, though.”

  “Well, I don’t mind,” she said, her smile widening.

  “Mind about what?” Heather asked. She was hopping now, reaching for the letter.

  “Let’s go, then,” he said.

  “Go where?” Heather asked impatiently. “All of us?”

  “Yes, all of us, you impatient girl,” he said, teasingly chastising Heather. “How does a London holiday sound?”

  Heather’s face lightened as if it was lit from within. “Really? All three of us together?”

  “All three of us together,” he confirmed, glancing up at Amanda.

  Chapter 20

  As the three of them piled into the carriage for the trek into London, Amanda felt an incredible sense of calm wash over her. Normally, a visit to the Dowager Marchioness made her heart beat quickly with anticipation. She never knew what sort of plans the eccentric old lady would have for her. And even Amanda’s free spirit had its limits.

  But this time, she had Lord Ethelred with her.

  Joseph.

  She looked at him, watching with a gentle smile on her lips as he leaned over to arrange a blanket over Lady Heather’s legs. It was quite early in the morning, as they wanted to make it to the Dowager Marchioness’s London estate in time for breakfast. The air clung on to the chill of the night still. The sun was breaking over the fields, casting long shadows and waking the birds, but still not had a chance to warm the air. A fine mist of fog drifted lazily over the landscape, but even as she noticed it, it had already begun to lift.

  With Joseph by her side, Amanda had no fear. The pleasure of his company would overpower any discomfort that the visit might bring.

  He noticed her watching him, his eyes sparkling as he looked at her. The corner of his mouth quirked up slightly.

  Lady Heather wriggled in the seat next to Amanda. “I’m not cold, Father,” she protested, pulling the blanket off her legs.

  “I’m cold just looking at you,” he countered.

  “Here, then. You can have it.” The girl tossed the blanket gently across to her father. He raised his eyebrows at her sauciness, but ultimately, he tossed the blanket aside onto the empty seat next to him.

  Amanda wondered to herself how common it was for a Marquess to take such a tender interest in his daughter. She knew well enough that the use of nurses, governesses, and tutor
s often obscured the parental relationship. But that didn’t seem to be the case with this little family.

  Amanda’s heart warmed as she considered, once again, her tremendous luck in being sent to such a family to work.

  As the carriage rumbled on its way, she leaned back against the plush interior and basked in the contentment that washed over her. Looking out at the rising fog, ensconced in the warmth of the carriage with Joseph and Lady Heather, it was impossible for her to imagine any place she would rather be.

  I wish I could thank you for welcoming me into your home. But it would be too forthright to just come out and say it.

  Her gaze flickered from the landscape outside to the man sitting across from her. Although the carriage was large and well-appointed, the length of his legs made it so that his knees were only a few inches from hers.

  He met her eyes. As always, a shock of heat and excitement curled down her spine and seemed to coil tightly low in her belly when he looked at her. The scent of sun-warmed grass filled her mind as she remembered the scene in the meadow with him.

  Could it only have been a day ago that I kissed her under the dappled sunlight, my hands touching her as she had never been touched before?

  She chewed on her lip, unconsciously. She only noticed she was doing it when his slight grin seemed to take on a mischievous cast. He could tell that she was remembering the thrill of having his hands on her. She felt her ears grow hot and she looked back out the window.

  As she did, she heard him chuckle very quietly to himself.

  She couldn’t help but wonder what the sleeping arrangements would be at the Dowager Marchioness’s estate. Though she wouldn’t allow her thoughts to travel too far down that path, she had an indefensible desire to sleep near him, to feel his presence in the next room or just across the hall.

  The thought of him sleeping brought back to mind the way he had looked that night when Lady Heather had run to his chamber after a nightmare. Half asleep and half dressed, he had such a sense of warmth around him. She wanted to nestle into the crook of his arm and drift away in the comfort of his body heat, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

  “Why has the Dowager Marchioness invited us to London?” Lady Heather asked. “She never has before.”

  Amanda was shaken from her fantasies about Joseph. She shook herself mentally, feeling as though she were waking from sleep.

  “Miss O’Neil is a special friend of the Dowager Marchioness. In truth, it is Miss O’Neil who was invited, and we are merely here to accompany her,” Joseph said, with a lightness to his voice.

  Amanda wondered if the change in his demeanor ever since their tryst in the woods was as obvious to others as it was to her.

  “Miss O’Neil, are you somebody important?” Lady Heather asked, her eyebrows furrowing slightly with innocent curiosity and childlike confusion.

  Amanda shook her head. “Not at all. Merely a friend of the Dowager Marchioness.”

  “Isn’t it a little bit odd to be friends with such an old lady?” Lady Heather continued.

  Amanda laughed. “Friendship has little to do with age, My Lady. Anyone can be a friend.”

  Lady Heather took this information and leaned back in her seat, seeming to ponder it

  * * *

  Joseph struggled to sit still as they drove into London. It was more difficult than he could have anticipated, sitting so near Amanda and yet not touching her.

  The kiss in the meadow had opened up a floodgate in him. Now, looking back on his years of solitude, he couldn’t fathom how he had survived it. Now, he felt as though it were an incredible feat of strength to go a single hour without tasting the lips of a woman who enchanted him.

  She was lovely. In her simple dress, with her long elegant neck and her upright posture. There was something so unassuming about her. She was the antithesis of hauteur. Her ease and kindness cast a glow about her that made her look as regal as a queen, no matter what she wore.

  He clenched his hands into fists to keep himself from leaning forward and touching her cheek. There was a lone freckle that rested delicately atop her cheekbone next to her ear, and it begged to be kissed.

  “I want to see an opera, Father. Can we see an opera while we are in London?” Heather asked. Joseph cleared his throat.

  “Opera? Since when do you have an interest in Opera?” he asked.

  “I’m afraid I am to blame, My Lord,” Amanda said. “I gave her a brief synopsis of one I saw with the Dowager Marchioness in Dublin. It was ages ago, and likely, I fumbled the details of the plot, but she took to it more than I expected.”

  “I like the ones with murder!” Heather added enthusiastically.

  “Gracious,” Joseph exclaimed, looking from his daughter to Amanda, who shook her head apologetically.

  “I’m sorry, My Lord.”

  Joseph laughed. There was no use in trying to get Heather to be lady-like, it seemed. Still, he couldn’t fault her nor her governess. Having an indomitable spirit would serve her in life.

  When they reached London, the sun was well in the sky, and the morning fog had lifted completely. The sky was brilliant blue and cloudless, and the blanket he’d brought for Heather sat forlorn and useless on the seat of the carriage, forgotten as they descended.

  The Dowager Marchioness’s London estate was one of those homes that seemed sandwiched between others on a busy street. But its tightness was only an illusion. Inside, the house was spacious, with finely wallpapered rooms and crimson carpets. Joseph let Amanda take the lead, hanging back slightly with Heather as they were greeted by the Dowager Marchioness herself in the foyer as she shooed the butler away.

  “My dear, you’ve come at last!” the lady said, wrapping Amanda in an embrace. She wore such long strings of pearls that they clinked together as she walked. Even indoors, she wore a lace cap topped with an airy plume that bobbed above her, quivering with every word she spoke.

  “We received your letter only yesterday,” Amanda laughed.

  “Yesterday! Why, yesterday is another lifetime, my dear! This is today! Come and eat, come and eat. My cook has tried a new cake recipe that seems positively sinful; you must try it. Good morning, Lord Ethelred!” she added as an afterthought.

  “Good morning. Allow my daughter and I to express our gratitude for your kind invitation,” he said with a bow. Joseph found himself to be unaccountably nervous in the Dowager Marchioness’s presence.

  “Oh, it’s no kindness at all. None at all. You see, if I fill my guest rooms, it means that I don’t have to invite anyone else.” She barked a laugh, ushering them all into a bright open parlor.

  “You, Child,” she said, addressing Heather. Joseph watched his daughter stiffen slightly under the imposing lady’s scrutiny. “Do you like cake?”

  Heather glanced at him and Joseph gave her an encouraging smile. She looked back at the Dowager Marchioness and nodded silently.

  “What a relief! Children really are the experts when it comes to cakes. My cook will be most interested in your appraisal of this recipe.”

  The room they were brought into was almost blinding. The walls were white, as were the chairs, the table cloth, and the floors. Enormous windows covered one wall, letting in the sunlight. The sun was reflected, also, in the arrangement of daffodils in the center of the table. The effect was extraordinary. The only blot in the brightness of the room was a young man sitting at the table, who stood up immediately upon their entrance.

  Joseph eyes the young man warily. He was unsure of the reasons for his wariness at first until he realized with a start that he did not want Amanda to be admired by any man other than himself. He relaxed his shoulders with effort.

  “Oh, Edan. I quite forgot you were here,” the Dowager Marchioness said.

  The young man bowed, laughing gently. “I should be offended, Mother. But I can see why your new guests would so arrest your attention.”

  “Edan?” Amanda asked softly. Joseph’s eyes darted to her.

  “Y
es, yes!” the Dowager Marchioness said, striding forward to take her son’s hand and bring him closer to Amanda. “At long last, the two of you meet. Miss O’Neil, this is my son, Edan Kelly, Marquess of Brubrun. Edan, this is Miss Amanda O’Neil.”

  “Miss O’Neil,” the youth bowed to her. To Joseph, he looked as though he couldn’t have been over twenty years old, and the longer he looked, the younger he seemed. “I feel that we have known each other for years. My mother has told me so much about you.”