To Marry a Marquis

by Melinda Hammond

  'Whatever you may have heard of me, Miss Beaumarsh, I do not ravish innocent young women!'

  'I am glad to hear it, Lord Ullenwood.'

  He looked at her sharply, wondering if she was laughing at him, but she met his fierce gaze with an innocent look.

  'Very well, then madam, let us consider: is there no-one you can turn to, no aunt or cousin?'

  'None that I know. There may be some distant relatives, but why should they want to help me? No, I shall have to make my own way in the world. I have a little money saved: that must suffice until I can find a way to earn my living.' She rose, as if to bring the interview to a close. 'Perhaps you will give me a day or two to make my arrangements?'

  He found himself saying, 'I should very much like you to stay on here for the moment, Miss Beaumarsh. If that document is found to be legal, and I am indeed the owner here, I shall need someone to look after the house for me until I decide what to do with it, and to carry out a full inventory.'

  She nodded. 'Of course. I will do my best to give satisfaction, my lord.'

  She stood before him, hands clasped, eyes lowered, but again he had the distinct impression that she was laughing at him and when he spoke it was more harshly than he had intended.

  'Please remain in this room until I have sent everyone away.' Immediately he regretted his cold tone. The chit had just lost her grandfather. He said gently, 'I have sent for the doctor, although there is nothing he can do for Lord Northby. Would you like him to attend you when he arrives?' He took her hand. 'Perhaps he could give you something to help you rest.'

  'No, sir, but thank you for your consideration. I am perfectly well.' He felt the little fingers flutter within his grasp and she said, a little self-consciously, 'Believe me, my lord, I do feel my situation quite dreadfully, but I am not one to break down easily. No doubt you find my lack of sensibility quite … unbecoming.'

  He raised her fingers to his lips.

  'On the contrary Miss Beaumarsh. After the events of the past hour, I am vastly relieved.'

  Returning to the Red Saloon the marquis found most of the guests had already departed and he requested that the others should now follow suit.

  'A bad business, Elliot,' said Sir James, shaking his head. 'I will call on you tomorrow – I mean, today – in case I can be of service.'

  'Thank you, James. Come and take dinner with me. I am going home to sleep until then.'

  Mr Granthorpe sauntered past.

  'Said you had the luck of the devil, Ullenwood,' he sneered. 'Not only have you won yourself a sizeable property, but you have Northby's grand-daughter thrown in. Cosy little armful, is she?'

  In one smooth movement the marquis turned, his right hand forming into a fist and coming up to land with devastating effect on Granthorpe's chin, sending him crashing to the floor.

  'By God, sir, you'll answer for that,' gasped Granthorpe, raising himself on one elbow.

  'I will not. There has been enough folly this night, without capping it with a duel. Go home and soak your head, Granthorpe.'

  When Lord Ullenwood eventually departed, all traces of night had left the sky and the darkness had given way to an icy dawn. He stopped beside his carriage and looked back at the house. The unforgiving morning light showed just how run-down the building had become.

  'Winner takes all,' he murmured. 'A run-down mansion, an estate that's been bled dry and a poor little dab of a girl who will need to be provided for.' He jumped into the coach. 'Damme if it doesn't make one want to give up hazard. Drive on John!'

  CHAPTER TWO

  Rosamund was standing by the window on the upper landing when Lord Ullenwood's carriage turned into the drive the next day. The matched-bays picked their way over the uneven surface and disappeared from view beneath the huge portico.

  'Miss Rosamund, Miss Rosamund, he's here, Miss!' the chambermaid's breathless voice preceded her, but soon she came clumping into sight, hauling herself up the final few steps to the landing.

  'If you have come to announce that Lord Ullenwood has arrived, Meggie, I would much rather you did so in a more dignified manner,' said Rosamund, pulling her shawl more closely about her. 'Shouting up the stairs is not the accepted mode in any establishment, except perhaps a tavern.'

  'Yes Miss, sorry Miss.' Meggie bobbed an ungainly curtsey and wiped her hands nervously on her apron.

  Rosamund allowed herself a faint smile.

  'Yes, well. You will need to remember it, Meggie, if we are to find you a position in a gentleman's household.'

  'Oh Miss, do you really think we shall all be turned off?'

  Rosamund was sure of it, but she did not want to upset the servants any more than was necessary so she shook her head.

  'That is what I am going to find out,' was all she would say as she left the room.

  It took her several minutes to make her way down to the entrance hall, and she found the butler hovering at the foot of the grand staircase.

  'Lord Ullenwood is waiting for you in the Red Saloon, ma'am.'

  'Thank you, Royd. I think we should offer the marquis some refreshment.'

  'His lordship has already requested cognac, Miss, and ratafia for yourself,' said the butler, avoiding her eye. 'That is where I was going when I saw you.'

  'What right —' Rosamund broke off, biting her tongue to prevent an unseemly outburst. She looked up. 'Then go and fetch the cognac, Royd, but no ratafia. I will drink … champagne.'

  Royd looked slightly shocked at this, but seeing the martial light in Miss Beaumarsh's eyes he said nothing and went off to do her bidding. Rosamund crossed the hall and paused briefly to drop her thick woollen shawl on to the console table. It was a serviceable wrap, and necessary in the chilly upper rooms of the mansion. She caught sight of her reflection in the large mirror above the console table and sighed. She knew the black crepe did not suit her; it was the gown she had worn when her parents had died several years earlier, before high-waisted gowns and diaphanous materials had become the fashion. The stiff bodice was too loose for her slight figure and made her look even more waif-like, not at all the assured woman she wanted to portray. She pinched her cheeks to try to add a little colour, and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, but she knew there was nothing she could do about the dark circles under her eyes. Resolutely, she squared her shoulders and she entered the Red Saloon.

  Lord Ullenwood was standing by the window, looking out over the park. As she entered the room he turned.

  'I am sorry if I have kept you waiting, my lord.'

  'No matter.' He waited until she had closed the door behind her then said abruptly, 'There should be a footman to do that. Where is he?'

  'Gone, sir.'

  'Gone?'

  'My grandfather turned the servants off weeks ago, when he could no longer pay them. We have only Royd, the butler, and a few housemaids.' Her chin tilted up defiantly. 'We hired the servants for that final card party.'

  'The devil you did! What —' he broke off as a discreet scratching on the door heralded the arrival of the butler with refreshments.

  Rosamund moved to a chair. 'Will you not sit down, my lord?'

  The marquis chose a chair opposite and gestured to the table beside him. 'Put the tray down there: I'll deal with it.'

  'Yes, his lordship will serve me, Royd, thank you.' Rosamund spoke very deliberately, reluctant to allow the marquis to control the proceedings.

  As the door closed behind the servant, Lord Ullenwood gave her a quizzical look.

  'Champagne, Miss Beaumarsh?'

  'Yes, I will take a glass, thank you.' She smiled, as if misunderstanding his question.

  She waited patiently while he opened the bottle, watching the way his strong hands dealt with the cork. She cast a quick glance at his harsh features and the thought flitted across her mind that it would not be wise to provoke this man, or those lean fingers might find their way about her throat. She shook off this image and gave him another smile as he handed her a glass.

&nbs
p; 'I think before we go any further, Miss Beaumarsh, I should inform you that it is very unlikely I shall inherit this house, despite your grandfather's will.'

  'I know.' She flushed a little under his harsh gaze. 'I was considering the matter, after you had left. There can be no doubt that my grandfather shot himself, and thus his estate will go to the Crown, I believe?'

  'That is correct. I am sorry.'

  Rosamund inclined her head in acknowledgement, then she took a sip of champagne while he continued.

  'My lawyers could contest it, of course, for there are witnesses who will testify that I won the house and the estate in a wager shortly before Lord Northby's death, but I believe all must be sold to settle his debts and I would be loath to drag your grandfather's name through the courts.'

  'No, please, let it go,' she said quickly. 'What difference does it make to me if Northby Manor belongs to you or the Crown?'

  'I am very sorry, Miss Beaumarsh.'

  She lifted her hand as if to ward off his sympathy.

  'It matters not.'

  Silence hung about them. Lord Ullenwood cleared his throat.

  'I shall instruct my lawyers to do their best to delay seizure of the house. It will give us – you – a little time, but I do not hold out much hope. You had best prepare your staff for the worst.'

  'They already expect it, my lord.'

  'You must beware: in these cases the servants can sometimes become a little … careless of their master's property.' As if to illustrate the point, a shaft of morning sunlight suddenly lit the room, shining like a beacon upon a sideboard and clearly showing up two round circles in the dust. There could be no doubt that the marquis saw it. 'Have any items gone missing, Miss Beaumarsh?'

  'No.' Rosamund salved her conscience by telling herself this was not a lie, since she herself had removed the candlesticks this morning and given them to her grandfather's mistress. After all, the poor woman would get no other reward for her years of faithful service. She felt the marquis looking at her and added, 'But I will ask Royd.' She took another, larger sip from her glass. 'Perhaps you would like to see the body.'

  'The body?'

  'My grandfather,' she said. 'He is lying in state in the private chapel.'

  'Have you arranged the funeral?'

  'It is arranged for Wednesday, although I have not yet sent out the notices.'

  'You need do nothing more. I will send over my man today: you may safely leave everything to him. Poor child, it is no wonder you are looking so drawn.'

  She recoiled from his sympathy. 'I have advisers, sir.'

  'Oh, who?'

  'Mr Sykes, he is my grandfather's lawyer, and …'

  'And?'

  She threw him a look of dislike.

  'Is that not enough? Besides, I do not have to answer to you.'

  'Oh yes you do. Lord Northby entrusted you to my care.'

  'That is not necessary: I am of age.'

  'You told me when we last met that you have no one to turn to.'

  'I did? How uncharitable of you to remember.'

  'You think this an occasion for levity, Miss Beaumarsh?'

  'Would you rather I collapsed in hysterics?'

  Lord Ullenwood did not look pleased. He frowned at her for a moment, then stood and walked to the window.

  'You also said – if you will pardon my uncharitable memory, Miss Beaumarsh – you said that you would seek a way to keep yourself.'

  'Yes.' She frowned down at her hands, clasped tightly around her glass. 'Since then I have thought about it a little more, and what I should really like is to be involved in business, or – or politics: to be clerk or secretary to some gentleman of consequence.' She fixed him with a hopeful gaze. 'Perhaps you could introduce me to such a gentleman, Lord Ullenwood. My education was very good, including a fair understanding of Latin and Greek, and I read widely. I consider myself a very rational being, I am sure I would be equal to the task.'

  The marquis closed his lips firmly upon the retort that sprang to mind. Instead he said gently, 'No doubt you would be equal to it, Miss Beaumarsh, but in general men have a fear of intelligent women, and distrust them when they become involved in either business or politics. You would be better advised to look for a post as a companion or governess.'

  Her eyebrows went up.

  'No doubt you have an aged female relative who requires someone to fetch and carry for her. Or better still, you know of a family with a nursery full of children: such a situation could keep me employed for many years.'

  'I have no knowledge of any such positions,' he retorted. 'The idea of you being employed in either situation is quite hideous.'

  'Then we are in agreement, my lord. But that is not the point. I must do something.'

  'Very well then,' he said. 'You had best marry me.'

  CHAPTER THREE

  If Rosamund had not been sitting down at that moment, she thought she might have fainted. Certainly the world seemed to tilt alarmingly for a few moments and she could only stare up at Lord Ullenwood, wondering if she had heard him correctly.

  'You look horrified at the prospect Miss Beaumarsh. Am I so repulsive?'

  Hot colour flooded her cheeks.

  'Horrified? No, not that, but.' She took a breath. 'I had not expected this, my lord. Can you – do you really want to marry me?'

  She watched as he began to pace about the room, a slight frown furrowing his brow as he sought for words.

  'Miss Beaumarsh, I must marry someone. My family expect it, nay, they demand it of me. My wealth means that I have no need to hang out for a rich bride and since I have no one else in mind …'

  Her lip curled. 'Very flattering my lord.'

  He stopped in front of her and stood, staring down into her face.

  'Let us have the word with no bark on it. At the present time, I am the target for every match-making mother, and in pursuit of a rich son-in-law some of them will go to any lengths. It is quite fatiguing to be for ever evading their tricks and stratagems. Not only that, but my family tell me it is my duty to marry and produce an heir. You called your grandfather a petty tyrant, Miss Beaumarsh, but my aunts are equally merciless in their efforts to marry me off and are constantly parading eligible females before me. You, madam, have no home, no guardian and no prospects. If you marry me, you will have the first two and no need to concern yourself about the future. It will be a marriage of convenience, concluded for purely logical reasons. There will be no need for us to live in each other's pockets. We will, of course, be expected to be seen together occasionally, but once you have provided me with an heir we can each go our own way, as long as there is discretion.'

  Rosamund looked down at her hands. One of the biggest prizes on the Marriage Mart was standing before her, offering to make her his bride. She considered the advantages. He was very rich, and considered handsome. If one liked dark eyes that seemed to be able to look into one's soul and hair as black as a raven's wing. Disadvantages: he was arrogant, but her grandfather had been the same, so that did not overly concern her. She could think of only one serious disadvantage.

  She said in a small voice, 'What if you should fall in love, my lord?'

  He gave a harsh laugh. 'The women I favour are not the sort to become Lady Ullenwood. And at my age I am unlikely to succumb to a grand passion.'

  'So stricken in years as you are,' she murmured, and earned another searching look from the marquis.

  'At one-and-thirty I consider myself beyond the age for such nonsense,' he said stiffly. 'Now, what do you say?'

  Rosamund decided to try to stand up. Her legs felt normal so she walked over to the window, looking out at the neglected water garden. She wondered if the grounds of Lord Ullenwood's houses would be in good order. She guessed they would be immaculate.

  'Would I have the running of your household, sir?'

  'Of course.'

  She turned. 'And if, for instance, I wanted to plant a garden?'

  He looked surprised. 'That might not be pos
sible at the town house, but all my other properties have sizeable gardens, including Leverhill, my family home in Wiltshire. I am sure if you wanted to make changes that could be discussed. Although I would never agree to you cutting down all my trees, or moving a village to suit your whim.'

  'I would never do such a thing. But I must have a role. I must be active.'

  'Then my steward will welcome you with open arms.'

  He smiled and Rosamund was taken aback by the transformation. She had heard Lord Ullenwood described as being dangerously attractive: now for the first time she thought that perhaps it was not just his wealth that made him so. She struggled to concentrate on what he was saying to her.

  'Miss Beaumarsh, many couples begin marriage with no more knowledge of each other than this. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?'

  She drew a long breath.

  'Thank you my lord, but I think not. It has never been my wish to be a rich man's wife, an ornament to be dressed and put on display with his other possessions. I do not believe that women are only fit to be wives and mothers. Rousseau is wrong about that!'

  'Ah, he said softly. 'I see the influence of the Wollstonecraft woman at work here.'

  She put up her chin and regarded him with a hint of defiance.

  'And what of it?'

  'Nothing. I believe the lady put forward some sound and reasoned arguments for greater freedom for your sex.'

  'Then you must see why I would like to make my own way in the world,' she said eagerly. She gave a little sigh. 'I have considered earning my living from my pen, in the manner of Miss Burney, or the learned Miss Elizabeth Carter, but I do not have the talent for it. However, I have been well educated and see no reason why I should not be of use to some busy man.'

  'Miss Beaumarsh, what you seek is impossible, unless you mean to marry such a man.'

  She waved an impatient hand. 'I do not see the need to marry. I could be his private secretary, attend political dinners, write his speeches – '