Heart of a Marquess

by Joyce Alec

  For a moment, there was a brief silence and Charlotte felt a sense of triumph. It was not long lasting, however, for Lady Emma let out a blood-curdling scream and launched herself at Charlotte who, not expecting it in the least, fell heavily to the floor. Lady Emma screamed vehement curses down on Charlotte’s head, scratching wildly, pulling her hair for all she was worth and trying her best to inflict as much pain as possible.

  “Lady Emma!”

  At the sound of Lady Perrin’s voice, Lady Emma stopped her vicious onslaught almost at once. Bruised and sore all over, Charlotte closed her eyes and waited until Lady Emma rose to her feet, completely stunned over what had just occurred. Apparently, Lady Emma was not used to having such a strong force of will going against her own.

  “What in heavens name do you think you are doing?” Lady Perrin asked, striding over and grasping Lady Emma’s arm, dragging her away from Charlotte. “My goodness, child. This is beyond the pale!”

  “She has no intention of leaving the marquess alone!” Lady Emma shrieked, her skin now blotchy and red. “She wants him for herself; she is trying everything she can to make herself his bride.”

  “Enough!” Lady Perrin exclaimed, holding out her hand to Charlotte, who got to her feet carefully. “My goodness, what have you done to your stepsister?”

  Charlotte tried to smile but discovered that her mouth was sore and split and that she could taste blood. “I will not do what you ask, Lady Emma,” she mumbled, touching her lip delicately. “I have every right to speak to whomever I choose. After all, you are not the only one who considers matrimony in their future.”

  Lady Emma lunged for her again, only for Lady Perrin to step in, blocking her way.

  “I think it best you return to your chamber, Lady Emma,” she said firmly, grasping her arm and walking her to the door.

  Despite Lady Emma’s howls of protest, Lady Perrin practically frogmarched her from the room, closing the door behind them both.

  Charlotte collapsed into a chair, not quite sure what to do. She did not want to ring the bell for the maid, knowing that rumors would spread like wildfire should she do so. She had never once thought that Lady Emma would ever physically attack her, but apparently, she did not know her stepsister as well as she thought.

  And yet, Charlotte was not swayed in her determination to continue her acquaintance with the marquess, as well as with any other gentlemen she chose. She knew that, at some point, she would need to marry and certainly was not going to be a quiet wallflower until Lady Emma found herself her own husband first.

  “My goodness, I do not know what has come over that girl.” Lady Perrin stepped back into the room, carrying a tray with a bowl of water and a few cloths. “I am terribly sorry, Charlotte.”

  “It is not your doing,” Charlotte replied, as Lady Perrin sat opposite her, looking at her with a concerned eye. “Is it very bad?”

  Lady Perrin did not immediately answer, putting the cloth into the bowl and soaking it for a moment. “Once we have cleaned up the blood and sorted your hair, then I do not think it shall look as unsightly as it does now,” she said eventually, in her usual practical manner. “But I am going to have to consider what to do with Lady Emma.” She shook her head, her lips a thin line. “I have never seen her lose her temper in such a way as this. Thank goodness her father is not here.”

  Charlotte sighed heavily, letting out a loud hiss as Lady Perrin began to delicately wipe the deep scratches on her cheek. “She does not want me to go near those she considers potential husbands,” she said softly. “I know the easy answer would be to do as she asks, but—”

  “No, you must not do that,” Lady Perrin said firmly, her eyes fixed on Charlotte’s face. “You have your own happiness to consider.” She regarded Charlotte carefully for a moment. “The Marquess of Withington, is it? The one who found you in that room?”

  Charlotte blushed despite herself. “Yes, Lady Emma does not want me near him. I think she was upset because she saw him follow me out to the gardens last evening and made an incorrect assumption.” She closed her eyes tightly, wincing as blood was cleaned from her mouth. “The marquess simply wanted a little fresh air and was surprised to find me there, I believe.”

  “And you talked for a time?”

  Charlotte nodded, glancing down at the blood and seeing the tinge of red swirling through it. Clearly, Lady Emma had been more than a little severe with her attack. “It was nothing improper, although I should not have been alone with him, I know.”

  “Well, that aside, I will only encourage you in your acquaintance with him,” Lady Perrin said calmly. “The marquess appears to be a good man by all accounts, and if he is interested in you, then that can only be a good thing.”

  Charlotte tried to smile, her mind filling with how he had been so suddenly dismissive of her. Should she tell Lady Perrin about that? Or was it best for it to remain her own?

  “I shall speak to Emma,” Lady Perrin continued, not giving her an opportunity to discuss the marquess further. “I am afraid she will have to be punished. I cannot let this,” she indicated the marks on Charlotte’s face, “go without some sort of penalty. Although I must say that I think it best for you remain indoors for a time, until your face has healed.”

  “Of course,” Charlotte agreed, ignoring the spiral of disappointment in her chest. “I do not want any rumors to start, not when it would affect my mother and stepfather.”

  Lady Perrin put down the cloth and patted her hand. “You are very good, Charlotte. You see things so clearly, and I am appreciative of your willingness to keep gossip from our door, although I am sorry you will miss a few events.”

  Charlotte shrugged, trying to make the best of it. “It will not be too much, I assure you. You may claim that I have a headache or some such thing.”

  Lady Perrin bit her lip. “Although I should not leave Emma with you alone,” she mumbled, half to herself. Clearing her throat, she gave Charlotte a small smile and got to her feet. “Speaking of, I should go and ensure Emma has calmed down. I was not able to talk to her when she was in such a state, but hopefully—by now—things have settled a little.” She gave Charlotte a somewhat anxious glance. “Are you going to be all right? Should I send for the tea tray?”

  “A tea tray would be lovely. I thank you,” Charlotte replied, smiling so as to assuage the lady’s anxiety. “I think I will read for a while, to calm myself a little.”

  “Very wise,” Lady Perrin agreed, with a quick smile. “I will not be long in returning. Thank you for your forbearance, Charlotte. It is greatly appreciated, I assure you.”

  8

  Three days later and Phillip was still trying to argue his point, although he was beginning to realize just how wrong he had been. Kinsley had clearly been on the point of throttling him when he had first heard the news. Miss Richardson had claimed a headache, and as such, the three ladies had left almost at once, despite Lady Emma’s protests.

  “I cannot believe you treated Miss Richardson in such a way,” Kinsley continued, his frustration evident. “I am surprised she did not slap some sense into you!”

  “Can we please forget the matter?” Phillip asked, growing a little tired of Kinsley’s constant haranguing. “Yes, I confess that I was a little over the top, but my inclination to return inside was quite correct.” He ignored the guilt that pressed into his very soul, trying his best to remain nonchalant. “After all, I should not have been out walking alone.”

  Kinsley gave a loud snort. “You are not the first gentleman to do so, and I can guarantee you will not be the last. Tell me, Withington, what was your motivation for asking her to take a walk with you?”

  Phillip cleared his throat, aware that his emotions were already in a bitter tangle. “I thought to spend a little more time in her company.”

  “And why was that?” Kinsley pried, glancing over at Phillip as they walked. “Is it because, in fact, you find her to be often in your thoughts? That you decided that you might let your guard d
own for just a moment, only to find it a little terrifying?”

  I wish you did not know me so well, Phillip thought, more than aware that Kinsley, as his closest friend, knew almost everything about him. “Yes, I suppose that is quite correct,” he muttered, keeping his gaze on the path ahead of him. He fully expected to hear Kinsley snort with laughter, or to crow ‘I told you so’ over him; but instead, his friend simply sighed.

  “Must you invite them to your house party?”

  Kinsley shook his head at Phillip, evidently still frustrated. “The invitation was sent yesterday, Withington.”

  His heart picked up speed. “And?”

  “And they have accepted,” Kinsley replied quietly. “I am to expect them next week at my country estate—along with my other guests. And of course, that includes you.”

  Phillip grunted. “Mayhap I shall claim a headache.”

  “No, you shall not,” Kinsley grated, his eyebrows furrowing together into one dark line. “You are not a coward, Withington.”

  For a time, there was nothing but the gentle birdsong surrounding them, the wind tickling his cheek. They were drawing closer to the part of Hyde Park where the fashionable lot would be parading themselves about. Although Kinsley would want to be a part of it, Phillip found himself wanting to avoid the ton altogether.

  “I think I shall walk over this way for a time,” he said, as Kinley rubbed his hands in delight on seeing some of the splendid carriages glistening in the light. “I will come and find you presently.”

  “Very good, very good,” Kinsley agreed, a grin on his face. “Trying to avoid her, are you?”

  “Not in the least,” Phillip assured him, the lie rolling off his tongue with ease. “Enjoy yourself, Kinsley, and try not to lose your head.”

  His friend laughed aloud and made his way towards the carriages whilst Phillip turned in the opposite direction.

  As he walked, Phillip could not help but reflect on what he had been doing when Miss Richardson and he had been walking in the gardens. All had been going wonderfully well and he had found himself offering to take her for a short stroll without even the smallest worry that she would use it to capture his hand in matrimony.

  After all, she seemed quite different to the other ladies at the recital. She had not swarmed towards him, desperate to renew their acquaintance although he had caught her watching him. In fact, she had not sought out his company at all. During the recital, she had kept company with Lady Perrin and had shown an avid interest in all the performers, not once glancing in his direction.

  He had been quite surprised at her behavior, having expected her to at least try and speak to him again, and discovering that in her lack of interest, his own grew quickly. When the dancing had begun, he had made to quit the room for a time, spotting Miss Richardson heading in the direction of the balcony that stood just above the gardens. Of course, then had come the hullabaloo with Lady Emma’s dress, and in the melee, he had not seen her leave. Something had tugged at him to go after her, to finally get to speak to her, and so he had followed her outside.

  And then, during their walk in the gardens, he had cursed his foolishness repeatedly. It was as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over him as she had spoken, teasing him and reminding him a little too much of Miss Thackery. And so, he had done the only thing he could and tried to get her back indoors before anyone noticed their absence.

  Wincing, Phillip shook his head to himself and passed a hand over his eyes. Whatever had he been thinking? He had insulted and upset Miss Richardson, who had only been teasing him a little. Kinsley was quite right. He was most likely going to have to apologize to her somehow.

  “Lord Withington?”

  Lifting his head, Phillip tried to smile as he saw Lady Emma walking with a lady he did not recognize, their maid a little behind them. He had finally been introduced to Lady Emma after her encounter with the heavy-footed gentleman who had torn her gown, but he had found her a little insincere.

  “Lady Emma,” he said with a deep bow. “How good to see you.”

  The lady smiled and batted her eyelashes, but Phillip was not even watching. In fact, he was trying his best to look discreetly about, in the hope that Miss Richardson was with her stepsister.

  “And are you out walking alone?” the lady asked, her tone a little frosty as she realized he was not focusing entirely on her. “I am surprised, my lord. I would have thought you would have been joining the parade of fashionable folk.”

  “Alas, my inclinations do not lie in such a thing,” Phillip replied, wondering when Lady Emma would introduce her companion to him. He gave the girl a small smile, aware of how quickly she blushed. Evidently, she was more than aware of who he was.

  “Lady Emma,” he interrupted, as Lady Emma continued to talk about the fashionable hour. “Might you introduce me to your friend? I do not believe we have met.”

  Lady Emma’s face grew a little frustrated, although it was quickly smoothed away with a smile. “Yes, of course. Lord Withington, this is Lady Sarah Chatham, soon to be wed to the Earl of Beddington.”

  “My many congratulations,” Phillip murmured, as Lady Emma finished the introductions. “And how long is it until the happy occasion takes place?”

  “But two weeks,” Lady Sarah murmured, her face pink. “I thank you for your congratulations, my lord.”

  Phillip made to say more, only for Lady Emma to interrupt, her eyes fixed on his face. “I, myself, am entirely unattached,” she said, smiling at him. “I think that such an important state as matrimonial happiness requires one to take one’s time when choosing a partner.”

  Surprised at the sentiment, Phillip had to agree. “I find that our minds think in much the same way, Lady Emma,” he said quietly, wondering if he had misjudged the lady.

  “It is a shame my stepsister does not think so,” Lady Emma continued, with a heavy sigh. “I have found her quite a burden, I must confess.”

  “Emma!” Lady Sarah exclaimed, sounding quite horrified. “Please, do not—”

  “I am quite sure Lord Withington does not mind,” Lady Emma interrupted, with a wave of her hand. “After all, he has no particular attachment to anyone.”

  Phillip felt as though he had swallowed a heavy stone that now sat in the middle of his stomach, although he kept his expression blank. “Indeed,” he murmured, wondering frantically what Lady Emma could mean. He had not known Miss Richardson for a particularly long time, but she had not seemed to be any kind of flirt. However, Lady Emma would know her better than he, so should he give consideration to what she said?

  “Mayhap Miss Richardson can learn from your ways,” he said hurriedly, suddenly desperate to quit this conversation.

  “I do hope so,” Lady Emma said, with a heavy sigh. “I do hate to see her put on such a display for the gentlemen she chooses to surround herself with. She ought not to give away her favors like that. I keep reminding her of the importance of propriety, but she will not listen! She does not seem to understand that choosing suitors carefully will bring her happiness. It is quite disconcerting and a very grave concern to both myself and my aunt.” She leaned forward, as though preparing to tell him a great secret. “In fact, my aunt has forbidden her to attend any kind of gathering for a week or so until she learns to control herself.” Her eyes were bright as she leaned back, evidently unaware of the disgust that ran straight through him. “That means that she will be out of society until the time comes for Lord Kinsley’s house party,” she murmured, shaking her head sadly. “I just hope she can behave herself there.”

  His stomach churning, Phillip executed a perfect bow, begged the ladies to excuse him, and began to hurry away, hearing Lady Emma call after him that she hoped to see him again very soon.

  Phillip could not return the sentiment. His mind was all in a whirl, filled with thoughts of Lady Emma, Miss Richardson, and all the gentlemen suitors she had spoken about. Lady Emma had insinuated that Miss Richardson was not the innocent young woman she appea
red to be, that she was free with her words and even, perhaps, her kisses. The thought made him almost nauseous.

  Forgetting entirely about Lord Kinsley, he hurried through Hyde Park, desperate to be on his own for a time. He had to think through a lot and his determination to apologize to the lady now seemed to be less of a consideration than before. Whom was he to believe? Lady Emma, who as far as he was aware, had an impeccable reputation, or should he trust what he knew of Miss Richardson thus far?

  “And yet we have only had a very brief acquaintance. I might turn out to be just all the other young ladies who seek out your company.” Miss Richardson’s words echoed through his mind, making his heart twist all over again. Had she truly been jesting when she had said such a thing to him? Or had there been truth in her words, a way of inviting him to press his attentions on her a little more?

  No, that could not be so, for then she would not have reacted with such anger when he had attempted to draw her back inside.

  Unless she had been upset that he had not taken advantage of her offer.

  Groaning, Phillip threw his head back and gazed up at the sky, his entire being buzzing with confusion and his thoughts in chaos. He needed time to think. Mayhap Lady Emma was right, in which case it was good he knew now, before his affections for Miss Richardson grew too strong.

  “I knew letting my guard down was a bad idea,” he muttered to himself, returning his gaze to the path and beginning to stride along the pavement. “Just look where it has taken you this time.”

  9

  “Yes, I think that should do it.”

  Charlotte looked at herself in the mirror, her eyes a little narrowed as she regarded herself carefully. A few marks remained on her face. Her maid had done an excellent job of hiding them with her artful hairstyle. In addition, Aunt Agatha had insisted on a little paint, although Charlotte had been horrified at the idea. However, now that she looked at herself again, she could see why Aunt Agatha had insisted so. There was nothing remaining of the long scratch that ran from her chin to her ear, evidently very well hidden.