When a Marquess Loves a Woman

by Vivienne Lorret

  Sensing a good deal of ribbing ahead of him, Max chuckled as he shrugged them both off and looked at the Duke of Vale standing across from him. “And I suppose, you’re out three?”

  Max glanced once more at the doorway, hoping to catch sight of Juliet coming down the stairs amidst the parade of trunk-toting servants. They had just finished their wedding breakfast, and she was now upstairs with the other wives, changing into her traveling clothes before their honeymoon.

  His wife was upstairs . . . The thought sent warm currents of jubilation zipping through him.

  “No, indeed,” Vale responded with a smug arch of his dark brows. “I have gained three due to pure logic.”

  Turning his attention back to the room, Max eyed Vale skeptically. “Surely you could not have come up with an equation for the possibility of an elopement.”

  “Correct. I do, however, have a greater resource than mathematics, and that is Ivy.” Vale offered a scholarly nod, as if this were a well-known fact. “She explained that a man who has patience enough to endure five years can certainly withstand three more weeks.”

  Max scoffed. “Then it was by pure chance that you won the wager, because patience abandoned me the moment the banns were read.”

  Locke and Wolford exchanged knowing looks and a grumble or two. Vale was seemingly pleased by the news. As for Max, even now his heart raced with anticipation as he looked at the clock on the mantel. While the long hand stated that Juliet had only been apart from him for ten minutes, to Max it felt as if ten days had passed. And if she didn’t appear soon, he would climb the stairs, toss her over his shoulder, and carry her out the door.

  In fact, the only reason he possessed enough sanity not to resort to a more primitive action was due to their frequent encounters. Calling hours, carriage rides, dinners, and parties had afforded them creative opportunities to indulge in intimacies. But those moments only whetted Max’s appetite for more. He wanted her with him when he awoke, when he drifted to sleep, and for all the moments in between.

  Yet there was also another reason he’d withstood these three interminably long weeks—his new wager with Juliet.

  “You made another wager with Lord Thayne?” Lilah asked from the tufted bench at the foot of Juliet’s bed. Adeline sat beside her, fixing the trim of Juliet’s hat. Ivy and Gemma stood near the jewelry armoire in search of a sapphire hatpin to match the wedding ring on her finger, but at the question, they all stopped and waited for an answer.

  Eager to leave the room so that she could be with Max, Juliet paused in the hurried buttoning of her pale blue pelisse to answer.

  “A small one, yes.” Yet the stakes were certainly nothing like their first wager or their second. “If he managed to wait out our betrothal without stealing me away to Gretna Green, then he would decide our honeymoon—the destination and duration. And if he’d failed, then I would.”

  Though the truth was, she never imagined he’d last a week, let alone three. And there were ample times when she’d been fully prepared to abscond with him. If not for their clever trysts, she never would have survived.

  Tucking a butterscotch-colored lock behind her ear, Adeline came to her with the silk-lined hat. “Do you know where he’s taking you?”

  Juliet shook her head, even as eager anticipation caused her pulse to flit from one place to another. Already, she could feel her skin turning warm and pink. Thankfully, her pelisse was now buttoned up all the way to her throat and hid the evidence. “I was hoping one of you might know. Surely Max hasn’t kept it a secret from everyone.”

  Her three married friends all shook their heads, each one in turn confessing that they had heard nothing from their husbands. In the next moment, however, Juliet learned about the wagers that had commenced between the gentlemen.

  “I confess,” Gemma said on a sigh, “that Ivy and I also . . . speculated on your actual wedding date.”

  “And I am pleased to say that Gemma has agreed”—Ivy flashed a triumphant smile—“to try one more Season before she gives up on the idea of marriage altogether.”

  “Though I don’t believe it will do much good . . . ” Gemma grumbled, lifting her myrtle green eyes to the ceiling.

  Lilah laughed in clear understanding. “You may be surprised at the difference one Season can make.”

  “It’s true. Sometimes love simply stumbles through your door,” Adeline added with a shrug.

  Juliet couldn’t agree more. “One thing is for certain—love always happens when you least expect it.”

  She reached for the kid gloves waiting on her vanity. While putting them on, however, she found herself distracted by the lovely cabochon ring on her left hand. The same ring that Max had kept for her for five years.

  “Madame,” Marguerite said from the doorway. “The carriage is packed. You are ready for your honeymoon.”

  Her skin heated once more, her heart beating wildly. She was ready to spend the rest of her life with Max. She just wondered why it had taken her so long to figure it out.

  “Marguerite,” Lilah began, stepping toward her, “did Lord Thayne happen to mention where he was taking Juliet?”

  With a sly grin, her maid nodded. “Oui, Lady Locke.”

  This gained Juliet’s attention, as well as everyone else’s. “Would you care to elaborate?”

  “All I will say is that Lord Thayne’s valet and I will not be following your carriage until tomorrow.” Then that saucy minx simply curtsied and left them all to speculate.

  “You won’t be traveling far today,” Ivy said as they all moved through the doorway, one by one.

  Another palpitation fluttered beneath her breast as her hand curved over the banister. Hmm . . . just what had her new husband planned? She was only steps away from finding out . . .

  “Oh, my dear, Juliet,” Marjorie said, rushing out of Zinnia’s chamber, her arms open. Her eyes shimmered with moisture, and her face glowed with her smile. “My daughter, at last.”

  Juliet returned her embrace, a wealth of tenderness overflowing inside of her. Not only for Marjorie but for everyone with her today. They were all precious to her—a true family. “It seemed to take me forever to find my way here.”

  Marjorie pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Never fear. The rest of your life can begin on any day.”

  Emerging from the doorway ahead of Zinnia, the Dowager Duchess of Vale cast a pointed look to her niece. “I completely agree, and one must always be prepared.”

  In response, Gemma crossed her arms. “As I have said before, Aunt Edith, I doubt there is a match for me.”

  Juliet, Ivy, Lilah, and Adeline all inhaled sharply, knowing better than to present a challenge to a trio of women who believed themselves to be matchmakers. At the breakfast this morning, Edith, Marjorie, and Zinnia had taken full credit for every happy union in the room. Juliet, however, hadn’t felt guided into her match but more like she’d unwrapped it, bit by bit. Nevertheless, too content to argue, she had raised her own glass in the toast.

  Now, however, the trio in question exchanged a look and then a nod. Poor Gemma. She would have not one but three women determined to find her a husband.

  “And speaking of husbands,” Juliet said with immeasurable pleasure, “mine is waiting below. So I will leave you to your discussion and bid you each a fond farewell.”

  Zinnia embraced her, tears welling in her eyes. “Promise you will write.”

  “Often,” she promised. “And when we are settled in Lancashire, you must come and stay with us.”

  After Zinnia agreed, and Juliet pecked nearly every cheek in the hall, she finally swept down the stairs.

  “Where are you taking me, Max?” Juliet asked from beneath the dark silk he’d tied around her eyes in the carriage.

  It took every ounce of willpower to fight the temptation to kiss those pouting pink lips.

  Soon . . . he promised himself and continued to guide her along the garden path to the doors of their townhouse. “You will see.”

  She huffed
playfully. “Says the man who isn’t currently blindfolded.”

  He stopped abruptly for effect. “Wait a moment. I thought I was the one wearing the blindfold, and you were leading me. I wonder where we could be.”

  “Max—”

  Before she could scold him or swat at him, he bent down and swept her into his arms, laughing when she gasped and clung to him. He relished the feel of her in his embrace, the warmth of her body, the supple curves beneath his hands. Holding her close, he pressed his lips to her hair as he found the door latch and carried her over the threshold.

  After he closed the door behind them, she lifted her head and breathed deeply. Then, with a smug grin, she said, “I know where we are. You have brought me to our townhouse.”

  Contrary to what Max had overheard between his mother and Lady Cosgrove over three weeks ago, Juliet never intended to sell the house. He knew this because when he’d threatened to purchase it from her and pay double the price, she’d laughed and confessed her entire scheme.

  “Did you believe that I would want to spend my wedding day traveling in a carriage?” he asked, carrying her down the hall and then through another doorway before placing her on her feet.

  “Hmm . . . ” She laid her hands over his heart and lifted her pert chin. “I did not know what to think. After all, you have not seemed at all eager today.”

  “Not eager?” He scoffed tenderly, skimming his hands down her back and drawing her closer. “How could you doubt it? For someone who knows me better than all others, I am surprised by this claim.”

  “But you have not kissed me once since we have become married.”

  Slipping her blindfold over her head, he framed her face with his hands. “Because I wanted this first kiss to be right here.”

  Darting a glance around the room, she smiled, her eyes beaming with love when they met his. “The library.”

  Now, he too drew in a breath, finding the familiar scents of leather and citrus blended with rose water and sandalwood. This was the comforting fragrance of their home and reminiscent of many happy memories. Not to mention all the new ones to come.

  He’d made certain that the laborers had restored this room to exactly the way it had been. Only now, a few more books were added, both his and hers, mingling together.

  “This is the first stop on our honeymoon tour of exceptional libraries.” Pausing between each word, he leaned in and brushed his lips across her brow, her petal-soft cheek, and both corners of her mouth before resting in the center.

  For a moment, they both went perfectly still, eyes drifting closed. There was no rush. They had a lifetime to linger. And, at long last, she was his.

  The End

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  The Panic of 1825 was one of the first major stock market crashes. At the conclusion of the Napoleonic Wars, a period of rapid expansion followed. People were looking to the future, wanting a little nest egg, and ready to forge ahead with new ideas that would make their country stronger than ever. Investments boomed. From large cities to small hamlets, banks were writing checks (which they may or may not have been able to cash) to bring the railroad their way. It was surely an exciting time. In fact, the criminals thought so, too.

  There were a number of swindlers who created “opportunities” for investment (such as the gold and silver mines of the fictitious Latin American territory of Poyais). This rush to riches and improvement created a bubble in the economy, filled with little more than false promises and hot air. Then one day, like one of Professor Faraday’s balloons, it burst.

  Once it was discovered that this territory never existed, let alone the abundant wealth investors would gain, panic ensued. People scrambled to the banks for their money all at once, the stock market crashed, and banks could no longer withstand the demands.

  The Panic and subsequent recession lasted to the early part of the following year. Afterward, the economy started to grow again, but more cautiously this time.

  Unfortunately, the fictional Juliet Granworth was not around to offer assistance. Otherwise, I’m certain she could have sorted out the whole mess much sooner.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I’ve been incredibly blessed to write eleven titles for the Impulse imprint. The amazing people at Avon have only enhanced this dream come true.

  I’m grateful to my editor, Nicole Fischer, for her easygoing nature and insightful notes in the margins. Many thanks to the entire art department for creating enticing covers and to the marketing and publicity teams for all their promotional endeavors.

  Thanks as well to my agent, Stefanie Lieberman, for encouraging me to discover fresh ideas.

  To the wonderful Lisa Filipe, your enthusiastic support has touched my heart.

  And to my readers, it is because of your generosity that Max and Juliet’s story became a reality. Thank you.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  USA Today bestselling author VIVIENNE LORRET loves romance novels, her pink laptop, her husband, and her two sons (not necessarily in that order . . . but there are days). Transforming copious amounts of tea into words, she is an Avon Impulse author of works including Tempting Mr. Weatherstone, The Wallflower Wedding series, The Rakes of Fallow Hall series, “The Duke’s Christmas Wish,” and the Season’s Original series.

  Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.

  BY VIVIENNE LORRET

  The Season’s Original Series

  “The Duke’s Christmas Wish” in All I Want for Christmas Is a Duke

  The Debutante Is Mine

  This Earl is on Fire

  When a Marquess Loves a Woman

  The Rakes of Fallow Hall Series

  The Elusive Lord Everhart

  The Devilish Mr. Danvers

  The Maddening Lord Montwood

  The Wallflower Wedding Series

  Tempting Mr. Weatherstone (novella)

  Daring Miss Danvers

  Winning Miss Wakefield

  Finding Miss McFarland

  Give in to your Impulses . . .

  Continue reading for excerpts from

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  Available now wherever ebooks are sold.

  INTERCEPTING DAISY

  A LOVE AND FOOTBALL NOVEL

  by Julie Brannagh

  MIXING TEMPTATION

  A SECOND SHOT NOVEL

  by Sara Jane Stone

  THE SOLDIER’S SCOUNDREL

  by Cat Sebastian

  MAKING THE PLAY

  A HIDDEN FALLS NOVEL

  by T. J. Kline

  An Excerpt from

  INTERCEPTING DAISY

  A Love and Football Novel

  By Julie Brannagh

  When Daisy Spencer wrote an erotic novella about the Seattle Sharks’ backup quarterback and her #1 crush, Grant Parker, she never expected it to become a runaway bestseller. If anyone discovers she wrote the sexy story, her days as a flight attendant for the Sharks would be over. But once she gets to know the real man behind the fantasy, her heart may be in more danger than her job.

  He could have hit the Stop button and kissed her in the elevator, but there was probably a security camera. He didn’t really care, but she might not like being the center of attention when the snip of video got leaked to the local press or put up on YouTube. He wasn’t letting her drive away without kissing her, though.

  She paused in front of her car as she turned to face him.

  “I had such a nice time. Thank you so much for dinner,” she said. She shuffled her feet a little. He’d observed her so many times while she did her job. She always seemed at ease, even during the turbulence they’d experienced on the last Sharks flight. Maybe she had the same butterflies in her stomach that he had in his.

  He moved a little closer to her and slid his arm around her waist. She tipped her head back to look into his eyes. He had to smile at the flush making its way over her cheeks as she licked her lips. Yes, Daisy wanted to kiss him too.

  He touched his forehead
to hers for a few seconds. Her skin was so soft. He could smell her perfume. He couldn’t identify the flowers in it if someone offered him a million dollars, but it was nice. The parking garage was not exactly the backdrop for romance. Next time, he’d say good-bye to her at her front door instead.

  “I had a great time too. I’m already looking forward to next Thursday,” he said.

  “Maybe we could go bungee jumping.”

  “Sounds perfect,” he said. He heard her laugh again. “Right after that, we’ll go zip-lining at Sharks Stadium.”

  He felt her shiver. He wasn’t sure if it was the fact she was wearing an almost sleeveless dress, the idea she’d be that far off of the ground and speeding along a relatively slender cable, or that she was as attracted to him as he was to her. He needed to make his move, and he’d better do it before someone came screeching around the corner in search of a parking spot. He reached up to take her face in his hands.

  “Maybe we should have a glass of wine in front of a roaring fire instead,” he whispered, and he watched her eyelids flutter as they closed. He touched his mouth to hers, adjusted a bit, and kissed her.

  She tasted like the wine they’d been drinking with a fresh, honeyed overlay that must have been all her. Her lips were soft and cool beneath his. He felt her arms slide around his waist as he deepened the kiss. He slid his tongue into her mouth, tasting her again. As he felt her tremble, he knew it had nothing to do with the cold. He pulled back a little and laid his cheek against her smoother one.

  He wanted to kiss her until they both were breathless. He wanted to spend the rest of the evening with her, and maybe tomorrow too. Mostly, he wanted to figure out how to entice a woman into falling in love with him, and he wondered if he’d been going about it all wrong. The woman who currently regarded him with a soft expression as she reached up to stroke his face deserved more than he’d offered to women before.

  “Thursday,” he said. “I’ll text you.”