‘She said she didn’t tell me because she didn’t want to make me feel any more guilty than I already did for not being there when they took her away to Mill House.’
‘And do you feel guilty for that? Even though you know none of it was your fault?’
He sighed and his big shoulders slumped. ‘It’s like an enormous sack of potatoes which I continually carry on my back and likely, according to my considerably much more rational mother, I use it to justify being an overbearing, self-righteous and controlling idiot.’
‘You are all those things sometimes, I cannot deny.’ They were part and parcel of his legendary Duff charm.
He nodded. ‘I would have picked you roses but the bushes have only just been planted and the damn things are only twigs.’ Then she saw tears swimming in those soulful brown eyes and all her residual anger at him melted in one fell swoop. ‘She tried to hang herself at Mill House. Twice.’ He held up two fingers just in case she couldn’t count. ‘Because in her confused state thanks to the drugs and the punishments, and because she never knew I tried to visit, she thought I had abandoned her and wanted all the pain to end.’
He swiped a tear away and Hope couldn’t stand it any more. She dropped the pillow and wrapped her arms around him. ‘None of that was your fault, Luke. You cannot take on the guilt for Cassius’s cruelty. You were only eighteen, powerless and all alone. He was the villain of the piece and both you and your mother were his unwitting victims.’
Whether he believed that yet or not, she couldn’t tell. Knowing Luke, he’d always blame himself as that was how he was made. A noble rescuer to his core, one who would likely have to pick a thousand roses before she knocked that stubborn habit out of him. ‘My mother is adamant she told nobody about those suicide attempts except for Dr Long Fox. Not you, not Clowance and certainly not me, so how the blasted papers got hold of it I have no clue.’
‘Somebody else must know.’
‘Again, a fact which my annoying, nagging and rational mother has bashed me over the head with. We spent the last hour going through that damning article and she pulled out several pertinent details which I, in my disturbed and heartbroken state, completely missed. Aside from omitting the insanity of childbirth, they knew scant details about her first, real illness and her subsequent treatment here in Cornwall.’ He counted them off on his fingers. ‘They also apparently knew nothing about her final and most intense bout of treatment at Brislington House, where she initially veered, as you know, between catatonic and nonsensical for a good year after I rescued her. However, they were incredibly knowledgeable about what happened in Mill House—privy to information that I never was. I was barred from the place by Cassius and was never able to receive any reports on my mother.’
‘Then the leak has to come from there or it can be traced to it. They must have sent reports to your brother as he paid the bills. Could they have gone to one of your managers? Could one of them, disgruntled by your interference, have leaked those reports to get you off their back? If we have learned one thing about Cassius in these last few months, it was that the man did like to delegate...’
‘Delegate!’ He slapped his forehead. ‘Of course he did. Cassius didn’t like to get his hands dirty and delegated all the responsibilities he had no patience for!’ He smiled for the first time, but it came without any of his charm and mischief. ‘Abigail leaked it! She told me once that she answered all his correspondence. Dealt with all the unsavoury issues he created, kept all his secrets and protected his reputation. I’ll lay money it was her. Her father lives in Salisbury and Mill House is in Wiltshire so I wouldn’t put it past her to have found that awful private madhouse in the first place!’
‘But without proof, those are quite serious accusations to put to her...’ Hope frowned as something sparked in her own memory. ‘Although it would certainly explain her horror when she tried to call and I informed her you had gone expressly to Cornwall to fetch your mother. She was visibly unsettled by the news. More unsettled than she was to learn that we were neighbours when she did her utmost to put me in my place as she staked her claim to you. I do recall feeling that was particularly odd at the time but put her hostility down to my being a Brookes instead of a blue blood. As you probably guessed, we sisters and she have never got on but she knows none of us suffers fools gladly so she usually gives us a wide berth.’
‘She wanted to marry me.’
‘What?’ Hope was appalled.
‘But calmed down about that when I promised to gift her the Mayfair house.’
‘You wanted to gift that witch one of your most valuable properties? Have you any idea how many of your hospitals that tiny piece of Berkeley Square alone could fund?’
He smiled and took her hand. ‘And perhaps that is exactly why she exposed my mother’s scandal and did her manipulative utmost to make it look like you were the culprit. She sees you as a threat, Hope. My clever, level-headed second pair of eyes who might have thwarted her if we married at the speed at which all the gossip columns suggested.’
‘You’ll still need proof to clip her spiteful wings.’ The thought of it all made Hope’s blood boil.
‘I’ll get it. My solicitor holds all the accounts and he’ll have kept all the correspondence pertaining to them. He’s annoyingly thorough about paperwork. But in the meantime...’ He cupped her cheek and stared deep into her eyes. ‘Are we all right, Hope? As I have no idea how I am supposed to navigate my strange new world without you by my side to stop me from thinking I always know best, when clearly I know nothing.’
‘You knew how to get Mr Cooper to see sense and how to convince him it had all been his idea in the first place.’
‘Ah...you know about that, do you?’
She took his hands, revelling in their warmth and strength and well-meant stubbornness. ‘Can we make a pact you and I? No matter what it is and no matter what else we have promised to others, can we solemnly pledge never to keep any more secrets between us, Luke?’
‘I’ll agree on one condition.’
‘Which is?’
He kissed her and smiled wolfishly against her mouth. ‘That you allow me to unlace this stupid dress you’re trapped in while you strip me out of these cold wet clothes before I catch my death.’ He didn’t wait for an answer as his fingers went straight to the task. ‘Besides, I’m pretty sure there are a few spots I haven’t kissed, so I shall need to remedy that now or I won’t sleep. And because I have a lot of flesh to cover and a thorough job will likely take me several hours, you’d best get naked immediately, Hope, so I can properly make amends for being such a straw-brained clod.’
‘You’re incorrigible.’
‘That I am—but you love me for it.’ His lips nuzzled the most sensitive spot of her neck and she knew she was already lost.
She sighed and surrendered to the pleasure.
‘That I do, Lord Trouble.’
With all her full-to-bursting but no longer pessimistic heart.
* * *
What a week it has been, Dear Reader, and it is still only Tuesday! Yesterday Mayfair witnessed not one but two separate bouts of fisticuffs. The first occurred in Hatchard’s, when two tenacious matrons came to blows over the last copy of Phantasma left on the shelves. Mr Hatchard himself couldn’t separate the two, and despite assuring them that more copies of the lauded new novel by Hope Brookes-Duff would arrive on the morrow, a constable had to be called to bring order and peace to Piccadilly!
But then the poor chap was called again, to Berkeley Square, to assist in the eviction of the disgraced A., Marchioness of T., who had to be practically peeled from the railings while her belongings were unceremoniously loaded on to a cart by her burly brother-in-law.
Rumours abound that he, along with his indomitable mother, intends to turn the luxurious mansion into a hospital for the insane despite uproar from their well-heeled neighbours.
And, if that wasn’t enough scandal from that entertaining family, while they all celebrated tonight’s eagerly anticipated opening of soprano Miss C. of Bloomsbury in the Theatre Royal’s The Marriage of Figaro at Vauxhall Gardens later last night, the Viscountess E., sister to the Marchioness of T. and the above-mentioned Miss C., went into labour. We are delighted to hear that the first grandchild of the B. family from Bloomsbury is doing well and that the proud father is already quite besotted with his little girl.
However, the persistent rumour that Miss C. of Bloomsbury has vowed to compete with her talented elder sisters by topping them both with the grand and lofty title of Duchess has yet to be corroborated...
Whispers from Behind the Fan
January 1815
* * * * *
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ISBN-13: 9780369710970
The Marquess Next Door
Copyright © 2021 by Susan Merritt
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
For questions and comments about the quality of this book, please contact us at [email protected].
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www.Harlequin.com
Favorite Harlequin Historical author Julia Justiss brings you a brand-new trilogy:
Heirs in Waiting
One day these Oxford gentlemen will inherit estates, titles and wealth.
But for now, they’re forging their own paths in life...and love!
With great titles will come great power and responsibility, for which they must prepare. But waiting in the wings isn’t easy for these daring gentlemen, so they’re forging ahead on their own paths, where they’ll encounter three exceptional women who would never be found at a ton ball...
Let’s meet them in
Book 1: The Bluestocking Duchess
Book 2: The Railway Countess
And coming soon
Book 3: The Explorer Baroness
Author Note
There is so much we take for granted in our modern world—listening to music, watching movies and TV all on our phones, having the opportunity to train for work in any field of endeavor. Which makes the limitations placed on Regency women almost incomprehensible to us.
Heroine Marcella Cranmore, daughter of an engineer, has enthusiasm and aptitude for mathematics. But university education was not permitted for women, who were considered incapable of benefiting from academic study. Although Marcella’s father has indulged her to assist him, she knows she will never be able to work as an engineer on her own or take over his business. Her best hope is to marry an engineer whom she might persuade to allow her to help him as she has her father.
Hero Crispin D’Aubignon, Viscount Dellamont, is fascinated with the new technology of railways, which puts him at odds with his father and most of his aristocratic fellows, who believe wealth has and should come from land. When these two unconventional individuals meet, sparks both physical and intellectual fly.
But a viscount belongs to a social world this tradesman’s daughter has no wish to enter, while a bitter childhood has left Crispin wary of commitment. Can these two iconoclasts remain true to themselves yet find a way to forge a future together?
I hope you will enjoy their journey.
The Railway Countess
Julia Justiss
Julia Justiss wrote her first ideas for Nancy Drew stories in her third-grade notebook and has been writing ever since. After publishing poetry in college, she turned to novels. Her Regency historicals have won or placed in contests by the Romance Writers of America, RT Book Reviews, National Readers’ Choice Awards and the Daphne du Maurier Award. She lives with her husband in Texas. For news and contests, visit juliajustiss.com.
Books by Julia Justiss
Harlequin Historical
Heirs in Waiting
The Bluestocking Duchess
The Railway Countess
The Cinderella Spinsters
The Awakening of Miss Henley
The Tempting of the Governess
The Enticing of Miss Standish
Sisters of Scandal
A Most Unsuitable Match
The Earl’s Inconvenient Wife
Hadley’s Hellions
Forbidden Nights with the Viscount
Stolen Encounters with the Duchess
Convenient Proposal to the Lady
Secret Lessons with the Rake
Visit the Author Profile page
at Harlequin.com for more titles.
To my darling granddaughters Anna, Samantha and Bennett.
May you fly as high as your wings will carry you.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
CHAPTER ONE
Bristol, England—March 1834
‘If it can be done, it will certainly be a magnificent achievement,’ Crispin d’Aubignon murmured to himself as he stood reviewing his notes outside the office of Richard Cranmore, the engineer surveying the final leg of the proposed Great Western Railway.
With the substantial return he’d earned on his investment in the Liverpool & Manchester, he was always looking for other promising railway ventures. If he received the answers he anticipated from the engineering assistant he would be consulting in just a few moments, he’d be ready to sink some money into this new scheme.
Review completed, he walked in to find the bare outer office deserted. Not surprising, since the firm’s main headquarters was back in London and this suite of rooms had been rented only for the duration of the local survey. But the front door had been left unlocked, which indicated there should be someone on the premises.
Proceeding towards the inner office, he called out, ‘Hello! Is anyone here?’
He’d been about to add his name and the reason for his visi
t when he reached the doorway and stopped short.
Seated behind the desk of the inner office was a woman. Not just a woman, he realised as she looked up at him enquiringly, but a young and very attractive one.
Though her gown wasn’t as outlandishly elaborate as those in the current fashion, he recognised the material as expensive and the cut and fit as expert. Glossy dark hair with glimmers of auburn glistened from the elaborate arrangement of curls pinned to her head, and the eyes turned up to him were a beautiful green, framed by long dark lashes. The pale skin of her face looked petal-soft, her nose aquiline and lovely. Lush lips and a temptingly curved figure produced an immediate jump in his pulse and a prickling awareness in the rest of his body.
No gently born woman worked, and offices employed only male clerks. So what sort of woman could she be? The chère amie of one of the engineers?
Before he could settle his rattled brain and produce speech, she said, ‘Can I help you?’
A little embarrassed to have been caught frankly staring at her, Crispin stammered, ‘Dellamont. I’m here to consult with a Mr Gilling?’
Surprise widened her eyes. ‘Lord Dellamont? Excuse me, but I was expecting someone...older. Most potential investors are,’ she explained. ‘Austin—Mr Gilling—should arrive shortly. Indeed, when I heard someone walk in, I thought it was him.’
She rose from behind the desk, her tiny waist emphasised by the wideness of her skirts. Though she was rather tall for a woman, the top of her head should just about reach his chin, Crispin thought. He could wrap both arms almost completely around that small frame, if he were to embrace her.
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