Make Me a Marchioness

by Blackwood, Gemma

A mixture of anger and surprise flashed in Edmund's eyes. He had obviously thought Harry was bluffing. "Julia –"

  "My name is Lady Julia Marsden," said Julia, with a voice that cracked like a whip. Charles saw every man's shoulders straighten in response to the absolute authority in her tone. The effect on Edmund was palpable.

  "Lady Julia? My little sister – my own heart – a Lady?"

  "That's right," said Julia. "And you will lower your eyes when you speak to me."

  Edmund waved his men back. "Julia, this is wonderful. This is more than we ever dreamed of!" He extended his hand towards her as though he fully expected her to take it. "Think of the fortune that's owed you! Think of the mess we'll make of London society! Together, Julia." His hand began to tremble. "Come, sweet sister, take my hand. I am still your brother. You cannot escape me."

  Julia's face crumpled. "Edmund, I must. I must leave you."

  "What are you talking about?" His smile barely wavered. "We have a fortune now, sister."

  "I have a fortune. And you will never see a penny of it." She tightened her grip around Charles's waist. "Gentlemen, please escort me out of here."

  "Not so fast," growled Mr Silver. Julia let out a shriek.

  "We have men outside, Mallory," said Charles calmly. "More men than you have here. Do you think it will be good for business, brawling with a couple of Dukes, a Marquess, and a Lord? You'll be finished the moment you lay a hand on us."

  Edmund dragged his hand back, slowly realising that Julia was not going to take it. "Let them go, Silver," he said hoarsely. "Let them go in peace."

  As Charles guided Julia towards the doorway, Edmund darted forwards and seized his arm. "Don't make the mistake of thinking this is over, Chiltern. I'll get you yet."

  Charles shrugged him off and hurried Julia outside.

  The footmen immediately surrounded them, standing in tight formation. Charles rubbed Julia's back. "We have a carriage not too far away, my love. Are you well? Can you walk?"

  Julia blinked in the sunlight. "I am better now than I have ever been."

  "Let's not celebrate prematurely," Harry cautioned her. "I don't take Mallory's threats lightly. He means to have his revenge on us, I don't doubt it."

  Julia let out a wicked grin. "I wouldn't concern yourself too much with him, cousin." She unclenched her hand, revealing a crumpled sheet of paper closely written with columns of numbers. "Once the Bow Street Runners get a look at the way my dear brother has been conducting his business, I doubt Edmund will be in any position to meddle with me again. Though I may deign to visit him in his prison cell."

  "You clever thing!" laughed Harry. "I must say, that was jolly brave of you, stealing it from right under his nose!"

  Julia looked up at Charles fondly. "I have learnt to be brave. I have had a good tutor."

  "Nonsense," smiled Charles, embarrassed and pleased. "Now, let's get you into the carriage without further delay. There's a hot bath waiting for you at Amberley House."

  "Your home," Harry reminded her, opening the carriage door himself. Julia sighed with happiness and let Charles lift her inside.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  The wedding of Lady Julia Marsden to the Marquess of Chiltern was the most talked-about event of the year. Of course, since it was only March, there had not been many events of note to which to compare it, but everyone agreed that there had not been such a stir through society for as long as anyone could remember.

  There was such a hurry to get to know the new Lady, in order to acquire an invitation to the wedding and be seen attending the prestigious event, that Julia hardly had time to visit the dressmakers and order her new wardrobe between the whirl of balls, tea parties, masquerades, and trips to the theatre. Her old clothes had been left in Edmund's house in Seven Dials for him to dispose of as he wished in the brief interval between Julia's departure and his arrest for fraud.

  A Marchioness required dresses much more extravagant than a mere governess, after all. Her wedding dress, in particular, would be a gorgeous confection of white silk overlaid with the finest Parisian lace.

  In the end, Charles and Julia managed to whittle the guest list down to those who mattered most – plus a few admirers and hangers-on. Annabelle was Julia's only bridesmaid, and when the day came, the majority of the excited babble in the drawing room of Amberley House came from Julia's relatives.

  The Marsden family had increased significantly in the past year. There had been scandals, weddings, babies, and even a duel. The youngest Marsden brother, William, had ventured up from Larksley. His wife, Celia, sat beside him, bobbing their baby on her knee. Next sat James Marsden and his wife, Emily, who had been instrumental in teaching Julia just how a Duke's daughter ought to comport herself in society. Alice and Captain Kirby sat behind them, Alice waving enthusiastically every time Julia caught her eye. In the front row, next to the Duke and Duchess of Rawly, Catherine and Harry sat hand in hand. The Dowager Duchess of Westbourne held baby George and explained to him in great detail all that was going on. Julia wondered how much of it she expected the little mite to understand.

  All these guests were taken in with just the swiftest of glances. There was only one person in the room Julia truly cared about, and he was standing next to her. For Charles's part, his eyes did not seem to have moved from Julia's face since the moment she stepped into the drawing room.

  She remembered that, once, he had told her she entranced him. Only now did she truly understand what he meant. Charles was gazing at her as though he had stepped into a fairy kingdom and was looking at its Queen. Julia doubted he had even noticed the exquisite white lace she'd spent so much time choosing for her dress.

  He'd loved her as a governess in plain muslin, and he loved her no more or less in a Lady's silk and lace.

  She put her hand in his and repeated the words as the vicar told her, feeling as though she were in a dream. Then, so swiftly that Julia had barely realised that it was happening, it was done.

  They were married.

  She was Marchioness of Chiltern, and Charles was her husband.

  She was so surprised that, even when he kissed her to raucous applause, she could hardly move.

  "Mama Julia!" cheered Annabelle, waving her little bouquet. They had debated for some time over the best way for Annabelle to address her. Lady Julia was far too formal, while a simple Mama seemed to erase Sarah's memory. But the moment they had told Annabelle of their upcoming marriage, the little girl had solved the problem at once by crying "Mama Julia!" and hugging her so tightly around the knees that Julia almost fell over.

  Next, it was time for the wedding breakfast. Julia was very grateful that Lady Celia and Lady Emily had both taken over the seating plan. She still had no idea whether a Duke's second brother sat above or below an Earl. And where on earth ought she to put Felicity? There was so much to learn about her new position in society that she was lucky to have generous friends to guide her.

  "But we are not friends," protested Celia from across the table, when Julia remarked as much. "We are all family. Why, the Marquess, Duchess Catherine, Lady Emily and I all have something in common – we have married a Marsden."

  "And all in the past year," remarked Catherine.

  "And not without some little trouble," said Emily, winking at her husband. The Marsden men all had the grace to look embarrassed.

  "I must say, it has been the strangest year of my life," said Julia, holding Charles's hand under the table. "I am very glad to hear it has been just as unusual for everyone else."

  "Unusual? Pah!" laughed Celia. "If you think we've had an interesting time, let me tell you what my brothers got up to in Scarcliffe Hall over the summer..."

  Julia was growing accustomed to the endless flow of gossip which greased the wheels of society. At present, she was too much a subject of gossip herself to really enjoy it, but she was a polite listener if nothing else.

  Charles gave her hand a squeeze. "Don't tell me you're losing your taste for scandal, wife of m
ine?"

  "I absolutely am," sighed Julia. "Charles, if you don't mind, I intend our lives together to be absolutely ordinary from this moment on. We will take walks in the garden, we will paint together, we will read the same novels, and all in all we will be thoroughly boring and disgracefully in love."

  "Hear, hear!" cried Harry, raising his glass. "I'll drink to that!"

  Julia blushed and hid her face in Charles's shoulder as her friends and family raised their glasses in a toast.

  "To being disgracefully in love!"

  Epilogue

  Christmas, 1821

  Charles paced around the upstairs sitting room, checking the warmth from the fire, pulling the curtains more securely closed against the cold, and adjusting the cushions on the sofa.

  It was vitally important that everything was perfect.

  When he was satisfied, he surveyed the room one last time with an air of satisfaction. Shining green holly adorned the mantelpiece, red berries glistening in the firelight. Candles burnt on every surface, giving the room a peaceful glow. There was snow falling outside, and in the silence he fancied he could hear its soft patter onto the frozen ground.

  In the upper rooms of Harding Hall, however, everything was warm and comfortable and cosy.

  "Alright," he said, calling softly through the half-open doorway. "You can come in. It's quite ready for you."

  He ran forwards to lend Julia a hand, but she waved him off with a smile. "Honestly, Charles! I'm not an invalid!"

  He bit down on his retort. As far as he was concerned, Julia should not have stirred from her bed until the New Year. But barely a day of rest had gone by, and she was already complaining and longing to be up and about.

  Charles settled Julia underneath a blanket and fussed with pillows behind her head and under her feet until she had to push him off, laughing. "I'm perfectly comfortable! You have done a wonderful job. Now, please, let me sit here in peace."

  "Is there anything more you need? A book, perhaps? I've sent Sally to bring up a tray of tea and mince pies."

  Julia touched his cheek. Despite all her protests, he knew she was grateful for the attention. "Thank you, Charles. I had begun to feel I was missing out on the Christmas season."

  "Not on my watch." He bent forwards and kissed her forehead tenderly. "Now, what can I get you?"

  "Nothing at all. Only send in..." Julia paused, the words still new and strange on her lips. "Send in the children."

  The children. No phrase, no mere string of syllables, had ever warmed Charles's heart more. He tip-toed from the room, careful not to slam the door and disturb his resting wife, and made his way down the corridor into the nursery.

  "Miss Kelsey? Please bring the children through to our private sitting room."

  "What perfect timing, my lord," said Miss Kelsey, leaning over the cradle. "The little Viscount is just waking up."

  Charles picked up his son himself, inhaling deeply to take in as much as possible of that soft baby smell. He hardly remembered Annabelle's babyhood. It had been a time of grief and confusion that had passed him by in a blur.

  He meant to savour every moment of baby Henry.

  A thunder of approaching footsteps was all the warning Charles had to avoid being knocked down by a rather excitable Annabelle. "Mama Julia! Mama Julia!"

  She shoved the door open and launched herself onto the sofa like a cannonball. Charles followed as quickly as he dared with the baby in his arms, wincing. "Annabelle, please! Julia needs to rest!"

  "Don't be such a stick in the mud, Charles," Julia teased him, wrapping her arms around the wriggling seven-year-old, who was really growing a little too big to fit in her lap. "I haven't suddenly turned into porcelain."

  "The doctor ordered rest, Julia. Annabelle, come here. You must sit quietly or you will have to go back to Miss Kelsey."

  "Yes, Papa," said Annabelle, assuming a straight-backed pose straight out of a book on decorum. Julia laughed merrily and opened her arms for the baby.

  Charles loved to watch her face soften as she gazed on the tiny features of her son. In truth, he was not the most handsome baby – not yet, at least. His face was a little squashed, and he had been an alarming shade of reddish-purple for almost all of his day-long life.

  Charles already loved him as profoundly and mysteriously as he loved his daughter. He knew that Annabelle meant the world to Julia, but now that she had a child of her own, too, he was glad that she could experience the wonder of a baby for herself.

  "Are we quite settled on the name?" Julia mused, gently stroking Henry's cheek. "You know I wanted him to be a little Charles."

  "I thought you liked Henry?" Charles protested. It had been his idea.

  "Of course I like it! Henry Harding, Viscount Yeovil. It suits him." She kissed Henry's downy forehead. "Perhaps a little brother Charles will come along."

  "Little brother?" Charles sat down beside her with a thump. "You mean you want to do this all over again?"

  Julia smiled indulgently. "Was it very difficult for you to go through, my darling?"

  "I'm not concerned for myself!"

  Julia shifted the baby into the crook of her elbow, freeing a hand to caress Charles's arm. "I'm perfectly fine, Charles. You don't need to worry about me. And I've always dreamed of a large family."

  He turned a little pale. "You'll have to allow me to worry about you just a touch, Julia."

  "A smidgeon of worry," she allowed.

  "A soupçon." He locked his fingers through hers and pressed her hand to his lips. "But I can see that you are well, my dear, and motherhood suits you as perfectly as I thought it would. You are a wonder, Lady Julia."

  "You're not so terribly bad yourself, Lord Charles," Julia smiled.

  "And me!" piped up Annabelle, somewhat squashed between them. "I'm not bad, am I, Papa?"

  "You are the eighth wonder of the world," said Charles, tickling her stomach until she shrieked. "And your brother Henry is the ninth."

  Sally came in, carefully balancing a teapot and the finest china on a tray, together with a plate heaped up with mince pies. Annabelle gave a yell of delight and ran towards her, just slipping out from under Charles's hand.

  "Watch out, Sally!" he called. The maid executed a rather complicated dance to prevent Annabelle from tripping her over.

  "Tea and mince pies, my lord. Will you be needing anything else?"

  "Make sure you put a hot stone in the Marchioness's bed directly. She won't be up for too long."

  "Certainly, my lord." Sally bobbed a curtsey and left them to it.

  Charles let Annabelle serve up the tea and mince pies with only the slightest of interference when it came to the heavy teapot.

  "Very good, Annabelle," Julia praised her. "You have become quite the society lady."

  "May I hold the baby now?" Annabelle asked, making a cradle with her arms to show that she was ready.

  "Go and sit on your Papa's lap. I'll pass him to you when you're settled. Here, take care to hold up his head. There we are. Perfect."

  Annabelle stared at her brother wide-eyed. "He's so little!"

  "You were that little once," said Charles, supporting the arm that lifted Henry's head.

  "Was that when I had my other Mama?"

  "That's right," said Julia warmly. "Your first Mama, who carried you for nine months the way I did baby Henry, and who loved you very much."

  She caught Charles's eye over Annabelle's head. Charles had tried to hide his fears from Julia as the pregnancy progressed, but he knew she understood the strain it had placed on his heart. If he could have had his way, they would never have risked having children at all.

  But seeing the way she looked at Henry, he finally understood. Their family was worth the pain, was worth any risk. He was almost reconciled to the idea of going through the whole process again to keep expanding their little circle of love. Annabelle would certainly revel in a little sister, should one come along.

  Was he really daydreaming about more child
ren? Charles smiled wryly and dragged his thoughts back to the present moment. There was so much to enjoy here that it was folly to waste time thinking of the future.

  He had his little daughter sitting in his lap, as good as gold. Together, they held the sleepy form of his new-born son and heir.

  He had a loving wife who looked every bit as radiant as she had the day he met her, even in her tired state.

  And on top of all of these blessings, he had a comfortable home and the means to provide his growing family with every luxury their hearts desired.

  For the first time in years, Charles felt truly whole and content. He had finally laid the ghosts of his past to their peaceful rest.

  His life now belonged only to the joyful present.

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  Lady Celia Hartley has a problem. She must find a husband soon or risk being ruined forever. Just as she is beginning to give up hope, William Marsden asks her to dance. Young, handsome, and kind, he seems to be the perfect answer to her prayers. But before he can claim her as his own, they must deal with the consequences when the Earl of Scarcliffe discovers the true nature of his sister's situation...

  This is a short novella intended as a companion read to the Redeeming the Rakes series.

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  Click here to buy Redeeming the Rakes Book 1: The Duke Suggests a Scandal

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  PROLOGUE

  A gentle murmur of conversation resumed behind Harry, Duke of Westbourne, as he slipped outside and left his dinner party behind. He did not go to the library, as he had told his guests, but to the garden, where he made straight for the circle of rosebushes outside the drawing room windows. Cracks of light spilled out through the closed curtains, illuminating Catherine Sharp's frightened face.

  "Have you passed a pleasant evening?" asked Harry lightly. A small shiver passed over her – whether from cold or from fear he could not tell.