A Marquis to Marry

by Amelia Grey

  “Excuse us, gentlemen,” Susannah said and slid her arm around her mother’s arm.

  “Madame, before you go,” Captain Spyglass said, “I would very much like to call on you and talk to you about the pearls you are wearing. I collect pearls.”

  “And I buy jewels for the prince,” Mr. Winston said, elbowing in front of the pirate. “I know Prinny would be interested in your exquisite necklace.”

  Race stepped between Susannah’s mother and the men. “Take your mother to your carriage.”

  Susannah immediately started walking toward the door with Mrs. Princeton on one side and her mother on the other. Morgan and Blake followed her.

  “I have always wanted to see the Talbot pearls,” Captain Spyglass said to Race with a smoldering glow in his eyes. “I don’t suppose you would agree to let me have just a glimpse of them before I leave London, would you, my lord?”

  Race looked at the man with contempt in his eyes. “Not a chance in hell, Captain.” Race cut his eyes around to Winston. “That goes for you, too. Stay away from the duchess’s house or I’ll see to it that both your bodies are found at the bottom of the Thames.”

  Winston gasped.

  Spyglass laughed.

  Race strode out of the ballroom and into the night air, his mind whirling with possibilities. Was the reason Susannah hadn’t told him she loved him was because she knew all along where his grandmother’s pearls were? She must have known her mother had them. But she looked as shocked as he was to see her mother. If Susannah didn’t steal them, who did and how did Mrs. Parker get them?

  No matter what the true answer was, he was certain that, right now, Susannah was wondering how she was going to explain it to him. Whatever the answer, he was not going to turn his back on Susannah again. He loved her, and he intended to marry her.

  It was a wet ride to Susannah’s house, but they made it inside without incident. Susannah had one of her servants stoke the fire in her sitting room, to take the chill off the dampness, and then pass a glass of sherry to everyone, except Henrietta and Sir Randolph, who had not yet arrived. Susannah had made her mother comfortable on the settee with a blanket tucked around her legs. Her face was ashen, and Race noticed she cupped her glass with both hands to hold it steady enough to take a sip. It was obvious to him that the woman was not well.

  After proper introductions were made, Susannah turned to Race with somber eyes and said, “May I explain?”

  “Please do, Duchess,” Morgan answered for Race. “Because right now someone in this room is looking guilty of theft.”

  “Enough, Morgan,” Race told him.

  Susannah walked over and stood in front of Race. “More than a week ago, I wrote to my mother and asked her to send the fake pearls she is wearing to me.”

  “Wait a minute,” Race interrupted. “Those aren’t real?”

  “Yes. Fearing I must be in some kind of trouble, she decided to leave her sick bed and bring them to me.”

  “Let me tell him, dearest,” her mother said in a soft voice as she lifted the strands in her hands. “Yes, my lord, these are nothing but glass beads expertly made to look like pearls.” With shaky hands, she held them up for his close inspection. “As best I understand it, the Talbot pearls were pawned by one of Lord Talbot’s daughters after his death. They ended up in the hands of a wealthy merchant. My father bought them from that merchant for my mother at a great cost. My mother had such fear they would be stolen that she had a jeweler make a copy to look as much like the real ones as possible. These.” She fingered the pearls as her mind seemed to drift back in time.

  “Go on, Mrs. Parker,” Race said.

  “Unfortunately, the real ones were eventually stolen from my mother, anyway, by a trusted servant who knew the difference between the fake and the genuine. The servant was never seen or heard from again. No doubt he sold them to whoever bought them for your grandmother or, who knows, they could have changed hands several times before Lady Elder obtained them.”

  Race turned confused eyes to Susannah. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

  Susannah’s stomach was jumpy. She would rather have been alone with Race to explain all this to him, but she couldn’t very well ask his cousins to leave.

  Taking a deep breath, she said, “At first, there was no reason to tell you. We were not on the best of terms with each other when I asked her to send them to me. And later when we, ah, well…” she said, stumbling over her words.

  “When our relationship mended,” Race said.

  Susannah gave him a grateful smile. “Yes. I hadn’t heard from my mother and didn’t know if she would send them. I thought it best not to tell you about the fake pearls until I could show them to you. My plan was to do exactly what my mother did tonight. I would wear them with the hope of drawing out the real thief and make him wonder if he had the real pearls or the glass beads. It never dawned on me that anyone would think they were Bess of Hardwick’s pearls.”

  Susannah’s mother reached up and touched her arm affectionately. “Though Susannah worded her letters carefully, I sensed she needed my help. I decided to come to London without her knowledge. I had to stop often to rest, so it took me longer to get here than I had hoped. When I arrived tonight, she had already left for the evening. I asked her maid where she had gone and then dressed and followed her.”

  Morgan threw up his hands. “All of this is well and good, but we still don’t know where the real pearls are.”

  “No, but this was a clever idea,” Race said. “Mrs. Parker told Spyglass they were not Bess’s pearls. So perhaps whichever man has the real pearls will be looking for an expert to examine them first thing tomorrow morning to make sure they have the Talbot pearls, and Bickerman’s runners will be there to capture them.”

  “Your Grace?”

  Susannah turned to her companion. “Yes, Mrs. Princeton?”

  “Sir Randolph and the Duchess of Blakewell are here to see you.”

  “Show them in.”

  Sir Randolph and Henrietta walked in, and Susannah noticed at once that Sir Randolph was carrying a small satchel.

  Introductions were made, and Race took time to briefly tell them about the fake pearls.

  “I knew that,” Sir Randolph said.

  He reached into the satchel he carried and pulled out a black velvet drawstring bag. Susannah’s mother and Race gasped as they recognized the black bag. From inside, Sir Randolph drew out five long strands of pearls.

  “Those are the real pearls,” her mother said, reaching for them. “I would know them anywhere.”

  “Gibby?” Race questioned with denial etched in his face. “How did you get those?”

  “I stole them from you. I am the thief,” he answered.

  “Why? How? How did you get into my safe?”

  “As to how, I might be old, but I still have a few tricks up my sleeve. I was in the King’s army for several years. I learned a few things during that time.”

  Sir Randolph walked over to Race. “I meant only to take the pearls, but figured if I did that, you might know it was me, so I took everything else that was in your safe. It’s all in there,” he said placing the satchel on a chair. “As to why, I had to take the pearls; they belonged to your grandmother. I had to protect them for her. When the fourth person came knocking on your door, wanting them, I knew it was only a matter of time before someone tried to steal them from you so I decided to do it before anyone else had the chance.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Race asked.

  Sir Randolph’s smile was misshapen from swelling. “Now why would I have done something like that? You would have made me give them back to you.”

  “Gibby, do you know what I have been through trying to find out who took those pearls?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?” Race said angrily as he advanced on the battered man. “You know that I accused Susannah of taking them.”

  Gibby looked at Susannah. “I’m sorry about that, but there was
nothing I could do.”

  “I should wring your neck and finish what Prattle—”

  “Race,” Blake said and stepped in front of him.

  “It doesn’t matter now,” Morgan added. “The pearls are back in your possession. That’s all that matters.”

  “I’m afraid not,” Susannah’s mother said in a quiet voice from the settee. “There’s the matter that they rightfully belong to me. Susannah has documents proving my grandfather bought the Talbot pearls and where they were reported stolen. The pearls belong to me.”

  “I’m keeping the pearls, Mrs. Parker,” Race said without hesitating.

  Susannah’s mother’s eyes widened and she looked to Susannah for help.

  It had always been Susannah’s fear that if Race found the necklace he would keep it. “Mother, the marquis has promised me that he will look at our evidence, and I’m sure that once he does he will have a change of heart as to who they belong to.”

  “No, I won’t” Race said as he walked over to stand by Susannah. “They belong to the Raceworth family.” He looked over at Mrs. Parker and said, “With your permission, I’d like to marry your daughter.”

  Susannah gasped and felt her heart rising up to her throat. Race looked at her with loving eyes before gazing back at her mother.

  “The Talbot pearls will no longer be yours or mine. I will give them to Susannah on our wedding day, and then they will be hers.”

  Race took Susannah’s hand and kissed it. “I know I’m asking a lot of you to give up your title as duchess to marry me, but I promise to love you forever and never make you sorry you agreed.”

  Susannah was too astonished, too euphoric, to speak at first because he had asked her in front of everyone. “You want me to marry you?”

  He smiled. “As soon as I can make it happen.”

  “Yes,” she said without hesitation as she looked up into his glowing eyes. “I love you, Race, and I will gladly give up my title to marry you.”

  The room erupted into cheers and clapping from everyone, including Susannah’s mother.

  Race bent down and whispered into Susannah’s ear, “Leave your door unlocked, I will be coming through the yew again tonight.”

  “You can’t. My mother is here,” she whispered back to him.

  “Then I suggest you put her on the second floor with Mrs. Princeton. I will not be denied your bed tonight.”

  Race turned to Susannah’s mother and, with a smile, said, “Hide your eyes if you so desire, Mrs. Parker, because I’m about to kiss your daughter.”

  Without further warning, Race pulled Susannah into his arms and kissed her soundly on the lips.

  Susannah thrilled to his touch.

  The End

  Dear Readers,

  I hope you have enjoyed Race and Susannah’s story in A Marquis to Marry as much as I enjoyed writing it.

  While doing research for another book, I came across a scrap of information about the Talbot pearls and knew I wanted to write a story that included the famous necklace. History tells us that it was five strands of perfectly matched pearls, with each strand measuring thirty-two inches in length.

  Finding out what actually became of the pearls proved harder than I thought. I found very little written about them, and they weren’t found on any museum’s list. My information has led me to believe that the pearls were eventually pawned or sold by family members after Lord Talbot’s death.

  All quotes from Lord Chesterfield at the start of each chapter are taken verbatim from his letters. However, throughout the book I attributed quotes to him he didn’t say. I do this for entertainment, not to give credit where it isn’t due.

  I would like to thank organist extraordinaire Tommy Watts for help with the music terminology I used in this book and Susan Broadwater for help with researching the Talbot pearls.

  If you missed the first book in The Rogues’ Dynasty, A Duke to Die For, please check your favorite local or online bookstore. And watch for the exciting story of Morgan and Arianna in An Earl to Enchant, which will be published by Sourcebooks in spring 2010.

  I love to hear from readers. Please visit my website at ameliagrey.com or email me at ameliagrey@comcast.net.

  Happy Reading,

  Amelia Grey

  THE ROGUES ’ DYNASTY

  A Duke TO

  Die For

  A Marquis TO

  Marry

  AN Earl TO

  Enchant

  Available from Sourcebooks Casablanca

  From

  AN Earl TO

  Enchant

  MORE DOUBT ABOUT HER STIRRED AROUND HIM. COULD what he was thinking be possible? “Aren’t you Miss Francine Goodbody?”

  Her chin lifted defiantly as if an inner confidence surfaced. “Sir, I am not. I am Arianna Sweet, and I have never heard of anyone by the name of Saint.”

  A stab of disappointment struck him and Morgan swore softly under his breath. Her assertion that she was not the courtesan he expected sobered him more than he liked. A derisive chuckle passed his lips. This was almost laughable. A beautiful, tempting young woman finally arrived at his door, but obviously not the one he was expecting. What were the chances of that happening? What rotten luck.

  Spending his summer at Valleydale was not turning out to be one of his better ideas.

  Morgan fought to quell his annoyance over the realization that this delectable young lady was not Miss Goodbody, and she would not be spending the night in his bed beneath him.

  “Obviously I was expecting someone else. So tell me, what is it that brings you here on this rainy, late evening, Miss Sweet? If it was directions you wanted, I could have spoken to your driver.”

  “I came here to speak to Lady Elder. I realize she is not receiving at this unbelievably late hour, but do you think she would mind if I waited until she’s available to see me?”

  Morgan grunted another laugh. What madness was this woman up to? “Lady Elder is not here.”

  She stared at him with guarded surprise.

  “But she must be,” Miss Sweet challenged him. “This is Valleydale, is it not?”

  “Yes, Miss Sweet, it is. You are here, but she is not.”

  Her hand flew to her forehead in contemplation and Morgan thought he saw her fingers tremble. He saw vulnerability in her that he hadn’t seen before, and he was certain now she wasn’t acting.

  She looked up at him with imploring eyes and said, “I came all this way to see her. Tell me where she is, and I shall go there.”

  The throbbing in Morgan’s temples increased. Just who did this woman think she was? Unable to keep a hint of accusation out of his voice, he stepped closer to her and asked, “Are you issuing a demand to me, Miss Sweet?”

  Morgan realized he’d spoken more sharply than he intended, but this was more than frustrating, it was maddening.

  She seemed unruffled by his brusque behavior and remained steadfast. “No. Yes. Maybe it is a demand. You don’t understand. I must speak to her.”

  Of Lady Elder’s three grandsons, Morgan was the level-headed one. He had always been rational, sensible, and clear-minded. He never did anything without thinking through the consequences and he never lost control. He was determined this intriguing young lady was not going to get the best of him.

  She moistened her lips, giving them a little shine and color. Though she remained quiet, he could tell by her rigid stance and rapidly blinking eyes that she struggled to keep her composure. She lightly shook her head as if to clear her thoughts and to renew her strength. There was a determined edge to the set of her jaw and seriousness shimmered in her eyes that gave him a moment’s pause. But only a moment.

  Another time, Morgan might have been more indulgent with this captivating lady standing before him, but she had picked the wrong evening to arrive at his door with her odd request to see his grandmother.

  His head pounded and his stomach had begun to roil.

  “I can tell you that it won’t be possible at all to see her, and
I should know. I’m her grandson.”

  Alarm flashed in her eyes. Her gaze swept down his body as she took in his attire. “Oh, my lord, or is it Your Grace?” She immediately curtsied. “I’m sorry I mistook you for one of Lady Elder’s staff. I know that she has three grandsons, an earl, a marquis, and a duke. Forgive me, but I don’t know which you are.”

  Morgan glanced down at his clothing and silently cursed. Sometime during his long evening he had discarded his neckcloth and collar as well as his coat. She had no way of knowing he was the master of the house. It was no wonder she thought him a servant, and a sloppy one at that. Miss Sweet was nothing if not direct, he would give her that.

  He cleared his throat and said, “I am the Earl of Morgandale, and Lady Elder’s oldest grandson.”

  “My lord, do you mind if I wait for your grandmother to return? I really must—”

  Morgan held up his hand to stop her from further discussion. For a moment, he thought he saw her body tremble.

  Did she think him such a scoundrel that he wouldn’t offer her the hospitality of his house for the night before sending her on her way in the morning? That angered him. Given the lateness of the hour and the foul weather, he really had no choice but to offer her shelter for the evening.

  Damnation, he wasn’t an ogre, but his patience was already on a short tether before she had arrived. And it was damned frustrating that he was immensely attracted to her, since by all accounts she was not the woman he was expecting to share his bed tonight.

  “You will be waiting a long time, Miss Sweet,” he said grimly. “My grandmother died over a year ago.”

  A soft anguished gasp fluttered past her lips. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “That can’t be.”

  “I’m afraid it is,” he said, wondering why she was taking the news of his grandmother’s death so hard.

  Morgan watched the last bit of color drain from her beautiful face. Her green eyes blinked rapidly and then slowly.