Seducing The Perfectly Enchanting Marquess (Steamy Historical Regency Romance)

by Scarlett Osborne

  Amanda took in one final breath. “Lord Ethelred and I are to be married.”

  Amanda feared for a moment that the Dowager Marchioness had not heard her. She sat, frozen, for a moment before saying, “Nonsense.”

  “It’s true, My Lady,” Joseph said, coming to stand behind Amanda’s chair and putting his hand on her shoulder. Amanda let her eyes fall closed for a moment, appreciating the warmth and comforting heaviness of his touch. “I have asked Miss O’Neil for her hand in marriage and she has accepted me.”

  The Dowager Marchioness raised her brows in surprise. “I knew you were not to be trusted. This is outrageous. Miss O’Neil is promised to my son. You’re too late, Lord Ethelred.”

  “Now, Mother,” Kelly broke in. “She’s not promised to me. You can’t just decide things like that.”

  “You knew about this?” she asked her son.

  Kelly shrugged. “It became apparent rather quickly that they were in love. And even if they weren’t, I would not have married Miss O’Neil.”

  This made the Dowager Marchioness’s face turn red with indignation. “How dare you say such a thing? Miss O’Neil may not be from money, but she has twice as much elegance and refinement as most ladies of the ton. Don’t listen to him, Miss O’Neil, he only says these things to vex me.”

  Amanda’s heart warmed at the Dowager Marchioness’ defense of her, even if it was misplaced.

  “It’s not that, Mother. Miss O’Neil is, indeed, an accomplished and lovely woman. And she will make a wonderful Marchioness to Lord Ethelred. But I couldn’t marry her. It would be unlawful.”

  “Unlawful? What is this nonsense?” The Dowager Marchioness’ face was even redder now as confusion set over her. Amanda, also, was confused by Kelly’s words.

  She was even more confused when, suddenly, he excused himself from the room.

  Amanda looked at Joseph then back at the Dowager Marchioness.

  “Please don’t be angry, My Lady,” Amanda said. “You know what I have striven all these years only to please you. But in the past months, I have fallen in love with Lord Ethelred. My loyalty to you or to anyone else cannot be stronger than the dictates of my heart.”

  Joseph squeezed her shoulder, and the Dowager Marchioness stammered.

  Then, Kelly returned and stood hovering in the doorway.

  “Mother. I am sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner. I kept it a secret for fear of upsetting you and I regret that now. I should have been honest from the start.” He swallowed visibly. “My love?”

  He looked over his shoulder and then a woman appeared in the doorway. “Mother. Allow me to introduce my wife. Violetta Kelly, the Marchioness of Brubrun”

  Amanda’s jaw dropped. The lady shifted her weight as, suddenly, all eyes were on her.

  Lady Brubrun was as different from herself as it was possible to be. Where Amanda was fair and slender, Lady Brubrun was dark and buxom. She had thick, lustrous hair of the darkest black, elegantly curled around her face and tumbling in fashionable curls around her long neck. Her eyes were dark and carried a sense of mysteriousness in their shrewd expression. She curtsied gracefully.

  “Good Afternoon. I hope that my presence does not disturb you.” Her accent was thick and sensuous, and Kelly wrapped an arm around her waist.

  And then, the Dowager Marchioness swooned.

  Amanda gasped, jumping up as the lady slumped dreadfully in her chair.

  “My Lady!” she cried.

  “Mother!” Kelly hurried forward. He tried to rouse her, but she was deeply unconscious, and instead, he lifted her into his arms with a grunt and carried her to the settee where he laid her down.

  Lady Brubrun exclaimed something in Italian, fright written on her lovely face as she clamored forward as well.

  Kelly replied in Italian and the woman fished a small vial from her reticule. The smelling salts had no effect on the Dowager Marchioness, though.

  “Does she often faint?” Joseph asked anxiously.

  Amanda and Kelly both answered in the negative.

  “I’ve never seen her faint before. Not once.” Amanda’s hands were trembling. The Dowager Marchioness had always been a symbol of vitality and health to her. Even in her advancing age, the grand old Lady seemed as healthy as ever.

  She had been afraid that the Dowager Marchioness would be angry with her. Never once had Amanda feared that the shock would cause the lady serious harm.

  The sight of the Dowager Marchioness, pale and unmoving, on the settee disturbed Amanda greatly and she rubbed her hands uselessly on the front of her dress. Joseph reached for her hand and she squeezed it.

  “I will send for a physician,” Kelly said, straightening up. His voice was high and tight, much different than Amanda had ever heard it before. Amanda could tell that he was just as alarmed by his mother’s reaction.

  The Dowager Marchioness’s dog jumped onto her chest and licked her chin. Amanda batted the animal away, but it persisted. Still, the grand lady did not stir.

  It felt like an eternity while they waited anxiously for the physician to arrive. The man seemed unworried, no matter how much Amanda tried to explain to him that the Dowager Marchioness was not the swooning type.

  “Many ladies assure each other that they are not the swooning type, My Lady,” The physician, Mr. Davies, said as he casually arrayed his instruments. “But fainting is hardly unusual among the fairer sex.”

  Amanda gritted her teeth, annoyed at the man’s lack of urgency.

  The physician’s smelling salts must have been a more concentrated strength, because, at last, the lady was awakened. She groaned terribly. Amanda would have been irritated that the physician’s lack of alarm was only justified by this, were she not so relieved.

  “Don’t sit up, My Lady.” Mr. Davies said gently. “You fainted. Nothing to worry about but I need to listen to your heart and check you over once for good measure just to be sure nothing is amiss.”

  The Dowager Marchioness looked disoriented, but she did not resist as the physician began his examination. In fact, she was more passive than Amanda had ever seen her, her limbs appearing limp as he lifted her wrist to time her pulse.

  Mr. Davies’ face turned graver as he listened to the old lady’s heart. He licked his lips and looked troubled as he burrowed his bushy eyebrows.

  “It seems that the Dowager Marchioness has suffered a palpitation of the heart. It isn’t terribly uncommon in a person of your age, but it does signify an imperative need for you to refrain from strenuous activity or shock.” He straightened up and removed his spectacles, rubbing them on the cuff of his waistcoat.

  “The Dowager Marchioness needs rest and quiet, and from now on, care must be taken to avoid disturbing her suddenly.” This, he said to the others in the room. They exchanged guilty looks.

  “I shall return tomorrow morning to check you again,” he said to the Dowager Marchioness. He smiled. “But you will be fine. A holiday in the lake district may be all that is needed to restore proper heart health. Fear not.”

  The Dowager Marchioness nodded tiredly. She had yet to say a word, and Amanda wondered if she was really aware of what had happened.

  When the physician left, the Dowager Marchioness looked as though she would fall asleep. Kelly crouched next to her.

  “Mother, shall I help you to bed?” he asked softly.

  She nodded again. Kelly cast a wary glance at the others in the room and then carefully lifted his mother to her feet. Step by careful step, he helped her up to her chamber.

  Chapter 32

  By morning, the Dowager Marchioness was largely herself again, though she sat with her feet up on a footstool and had a blanket over her lap and a shawl over her shoulders. It had stopped raining, and the bright sun that streamed into the room made her pale face look healthier.

  Amanda sat next to Lady Brubrun at breakfast. The lady was, like herself, of modest background. As the story went, she had been a seamstress in Italy when she met Kelly. She measured him fo
r an overcoat and they had fallen in love.

  “That very day,” Kelly added emphatically. “She unrolled that measuring tape and I knew she would be my wife.”

  Lady Brubrun blushed. She spoke English fairly well, though with a very thick accent that she appeared to be shy of.

  “I should have guessed that this would happen the moment you informed me of your staying in Italy. My son has never known the meaning of patience or restraint, and with young ladies as lovely as yourself around, Lady Brubrun. I might have guessed he’d come home married,” the Dowager Marchioness said, delicately biting her toast. She was still in shock about the sudden revelation, though she seemed to be recovering. “I apologize for not being there to protect you from Edan’s ardors before it was too late.”

  This biting comment might have been rude, but the wry lift of her eyebrow softened the blow. Lady Brubrun giggled, blushing as she looked at her husband. Her fine, dark eyes glittered any time she looked at Kelly.

  Kelly, for his part, scratched the back of his neck and blushed. “Please, Mother, I don’t think that my ardors are a proper topic of conversation at the breakfast table.”

  Happily, the beautiful Lady Brubrun seemed to charm the Dowager Marchioness, and by midday, it appeared as though Amanda had cause to relax her shoulders and enjoy her last few days with the Dowager Marchioness before returning home to Ethelred.

  The Dowager Marchioness was not accepting callers that day. She wanted to spend the time resting and getting to know her daughter-in-law. But when Lord Pemperose was announced, the Dowager Marchioness was not able to refuse his entry.

  Though Amanda’s opinion of Lord Pemperose had not changed, she was in such a happy mood that even his sudden intrusion couldn’t disturb her. She greeted him warmly.

  Lord Pemperose’s eyes were intense as he returned her greeting. He no longer stared at her chest—thank god—but the way he gazed into her eyes made her feel as though he were ransacking her thoughts.

  “My Lady,” he said, bowing to the Dowager Marchioness. “I must ask for an audience with your charge, Miss O’Neil.”

  The Dowager Marchioness looked non-plussed. “I’m sure what needs to be said can be said before us all.”

  Amanda cast a nervous glance at Joseph, whose jaw clenched as he looked at Lord Pemperose. Her betrothed’s jealousy warmed her, and she felt more at ease seeing that Joseph was ready to defend her or protect her from whatever it was Lord Pemperose had come here to do.

  “I’m afraid it’s rather delicate, My Lady.”

  “If you have come to propose, you’re too late, My Lord,” the Dowager Marchioness proclaimed somewhat gracelessly. “Miss O’Neil will soon be the Marchioness of Ethelred.”

  Lord Pemperose took a step back. The surprise on his face was plain, but beneath that expression, there seemed to be something else. He looked to be at a loss for words, and Amanda’s face burned with embarrassment as she was sure that he had, indeed, come to propose to her. Embarrassment, yes, but also indignation. He hardly knew her and had taken far more interest in her chest than in her mind or her heart. After a moment, his lips twitched into a smile.

  “Propose? Why, that had not been my intention. Allow me to offer you my sincerest congratulations, Miss O’Neil,” he said, bowing to her once more.

  Amanda inclined her head, not believing him but hoping that this meeting would soon come to an end.

  “Still, there is something I must tell you.”

  The fervor in his eyes had only heightened by the news that she was to be married. Amanda was confused, could he mean to propose to her despite knowing that she was engaged? Did he mean to make her choose between himself and Joseph? Amanda looked around at the others, unsure of how she could decline so direct a request.

  “While she is yet unmarried, Miss O’Neil remains under my supervision. And it is my rule that young ladies under my roof do not carry on private conversations with gentlemen. Again, Lord Pemperose, I’m sure what you need to say, if it is proper, can be said before the group.”

  He took a deep breath and straightened up. It seemed that Lord Pemperose was relenting.

  “You must understand, first, that I had to be absolutely sure. And I hope that it explains my strange behavior toward you, Miss O’Neil. I could see that my attention made you uncomfortable, but it was never my intention to alarm you.”

  Amanda’s heart pounded in her chest. Joseph came closer to her, sitting next to her and placing his hand on her knee, she grasped his fingers.

  “Absolutely sure of what, Lord Pemperose?”

  “Your necklace. When I saw it at first, I thought certainly it must have been a coincidence. Upon closer inspection I knew—”

  His words trailed off and he reached into his waistcoat pocket, pulling out a pendant on a thin gold chain. He handed it to her. It was a medal of St. Lazarus, identical to her own. She gasped. Her fingers were trembling as she turned it over. There, inscribed on the back, was the name Margaret.

  “It’s the same as mine,” she said, looking up and explaining to the others, who all watched her with rapt attention. “But who is Margaret?”

  “Margaret was my wife.” Lord Pemperose said, “and your mother, Amanda….it has been so long, but I have found you, at last.”

  Amanda did not respond immediately. She traced the pad of her thumb over the edge of the pendant in her hand.

  My mother's pendant.

  The words of Lord Pemperose clanged about in her mind as if they were searching for a foothold to cling to. Distantly, she felt Joseph's hand come to rest on her back between her shoulder blades.

  “You are Miss O'Neil's father?” she heard Joseph say. His tone was flat, somewhat disbelieving.

  “I am Lady Bently’s father,” Lord Pemperose corrected.

  Amanda looked up at him. All these years, she had forbidden herself from wondering about the parents of her birth. It caused too much pain, and she felt that grieving for a family she didn't remember was disrespectful to the family who had taken her in and raised her as their own. To be met now, so suddenly, with the face of her father was such a shock that it was as if her mind and heart had gone blank.

  “Father?” she said, barely whispering.

  “Amanda.” There were tears shining in Lord Pemperose's eyes as he took her shoulders in his hands and pulled her into an embrace. Amanda was stiff, looking over her shoulder at Joseph. In all of this turbulence, he was her anchor. He looked at her with worry and compassion in his eyes and she knew that he would help her through this.

  “Let me see that pendant,” came the voice of the Dowager Marchioness. She, also sounded surprised and somewhat disbelieving.

  Amanda straightened up, disengaging herself from Lord Pemperose's embrace, and crossed to the Dowager Marchioness to hand her the pendant.

  “And yours too, dear. Let me compare.”

  Amanda reached behind her neck to unlatch her own necklace, dropping it into the old lady's palm.

  The Dowager Marchioness peered at the two pendants for what felt like a long while. When she looked up again, she seemed to have decided that the matching pendant was authentic. “I have always suspected that you were of aristocratic stock, my dear. It seems my instincts were correct.”

  Apparently reacting to Amanda's continued blankness of expression, Lord Pemperose again stepped forward and touched her upper arm.

  “You've had a shock,” he said. “Believe me when I say that I searched my mind for a way to break this news to you as gently as possible, but in the end, I realized that I just had to tell you at once. I never intended to cause you any distress. Amanda, look at me.”

  She raised her eyes to his face, searching the contours of it for some resemblance to her own. He brushed a wayward strand of hair from her forehead.

  “Look at you,” he whispered, “look how beautiful you have become. And yet, you are still the same little girl who I bounced on my knee all those years ago. I wonder now how I didn't recognize you the instant I laid
eyes on you. Yes, you have your mother's eyes. I see that now.”

  “My mother's eyes?” Amanda repeated. The gravity of the situation was finally setting in now, as the pure shock began to wear off. She trembled and felt her eyes begin to well with tears.

  Lord Pemperose looked at her with such compassion, such tender devotion. And then, he looked up and over her shoulder toward her betrothed.

  “My good Lord Ethelred. I know that you and my daughter are recently engaged, and surely eager to begin your lives together. But, given the circumstances, I wish to ask of you a favor that may seem impossible at first but which I cannot but insist upon.”

  “What favor could that be?” Joseph asked.