The Marquis and I

by Ella Quinn

Charlotte chuckled lightly. “I imagine they would have.” She glanced around the room. “My, this is elegant.”

  It was. Now that they were in the parlor, he could see a balcony beyond a pair of French windows. She strode over to them, drew back the curtains, and stepped out. “Richmond is a lovely little town. I wonder if they have a market.”

  Standing behind her, he glanced down at the street below. “I will ask.”

  “Thank you.” Once again her smile made him want to drag her into his arms and never let go. “After all, we are in no hurry to return to Town.”

  Other than to marry. Yet, before then, he must make sure of her and their future. He looked around the parlor again. The door on one side of the parlor was slightly open, and he could hear her cousins talking in low voices. She would most likely be in the chamber on the opposite side of the parlor from the Mertons. He wondered where his room was located, and hoped it would not be too far away. Although, if Merton was as protective as Worthington appeared to be, it could be on the other side of the inn.

  “My lord?”

  Con turned around. His valet stood just outside the door, but not from the main corridor.

  Obviously, he had been paying so much attention to Charlotte he had failed to notice the smaller corridor located before the main door to the parlor. “Cunningham.”

  He bowed. “Your chamber is this way if you would like to wash before luncheon.”

  “My dear.” Con raised Charlotte’s hand, but this time turned her palm up, kissed the center of her palm, and closed her fingers around it. “I shall be back shortly.”

  Gently, she cupped his cheek with the same hand. “I will be here.”

  By Jupiter, he hated leaving her. Still, the chances were that he would not be able to find time to be alone with her until after dinner when her friend and cousin retired for the evening.

  He followed his valet past two doors and into a large bedchamber with one door on the right and the other on the left. As in many older houses, all the rooms must be connected, so that if one opened all the doors it could make for an easy passage between parlors. The small corridor he had been taken through had to be an addition built when the inn bought the neighboring house.

  That meant that Charlotte’s bedchamber was one door down from his, with only a dressing room between them. Obviously, he had misjudged Merton’s intentions. The man meant to do what he could to help Con win Charlotte. Or not interfere with his courtship.

  If that was the case, he would not let his soon-to-be cousin down. A few days here, back to Town, and he would have his wedding shortly thereafter.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Burt couldn’t believe his luck. There she was. Right in front of him, looking down from that grand inn across the street. He’d stopped in Richmond to get a pint of beer before he finished traveling to the Dirty Duck, a hedge tavern between here and Twickenham. Not wanting to see his chief, he’d decided to leave a note for Miss Betsy at the Duck. Now he wouldn’t have to tell her he’d lost Lady Charlotte. He could just bring the mort to Miss Betsy.

  He flipped the barmaid a coin. “I’ll be needing a room for the night after all.”

  Reaching under the counter, she took out a key. “That’ll be a shilling. Up the stairs on the left. Dinner’s included. It’s on the street and small, but ye won’t have ta share it.” She leaned over provocatively. “Unless ye have a mind to.”

  As she expected, he looked down. Dark pink nipples drew his attention and his cock stood up. It had been a long time since he’d had a woman, and he deserved a reward for finding the rum mort. “Meet me after you finish here.”

  “Be me pleasure.” She smiled and he was glad to see she had most of her teeth.

  He picked up his bag. After he put it in his room, he’d scout around and find a good place to snatch Lady Charlotte.

  First he had to send a message to Miss Betsy that he’d have the gentry mort by tomorrow. He took out the small traveling desk he used, penned the note, then went back down to the taproom.

  “I need someone to carry this to Twickenham.”

  The same woman who’d served him earlier, signaled to a lad of about twelve. “Eddy here can take it.” She strolled over to him, her hips swaying. “Who’s it to?”

  “Me employer,” he said, using the posh word. “I need to tell her I stopped here to pick up a package she wanted.”

  There wasn’t any point in making the woman jealous. Burt was looking forward to tonight.

  “In that case, Eddy”—she kept her eyes on Burt as she spoke—“better get going so she won’t be expecting you.”

  He handed the lad the letter and a penny. After the last several days, his life was good again, and he was looking forward to his payment.

  * * *

  It was late afternoon when Betsy Bell strolled into the entrance of the White Swan in Twickenham to collect her post. She stood at the desk for a few minutes before the landlord appeared.

  “Good afternoon to ye, Mrs. Bottoms.”

  She inclined her head slightly, a perfect imitation of what she’d seen real ladies do. “And good morning to you, Mr. Griffen. Will you see if I have any letters, please?”

  “Two of them. One just got delivered by hand a few hours ago. If you’ll just give me a bit I’ll get them for ye.”

  “Certainly.” Betsy glanced around, pleased with what she saw. No one but her would have thought a girl from St. Giles would end up in a nice village like Twickenham. She’d known she’d make herself a better life, and she had. A snug little house she owned, as well as a maid and a cook who came in three times a week, and a coach and coachman. All her neighbors were gentry. Not the rich kind, but still gentry.

  A lot of hard work had gone into getting here, and not only on her back. When her father had sold her to her first nunnery when she was thirteen, she hadn’t been able to read or write. She knew enough numbers to make sure she wasn’t cheated, and she’d found an old lady to teach her the rest.

  Now, sixteen years later, she was being treated like a lady, and pretty soon she’d have enough to retire on. Once the war was over, she thought she might fancy Italy. Some of the gents Betsy had been with said it was warm all the time there and cheap to live in. But she’d miss her house. She could visit and see how she liked it.

  No, it wouldn’t be long now, and she’d have everything she wanted.

  “Here ye be.” Mr. Griffen handed her two letters.

  “Thank you.” As expected, the missive sent from the Dove had her own handwriting on it. That package would bring her a pretty penny. The stupid girl should have accepted what the gent had offered, but then Betsy wouldn’t be making so much money off her. And it’d been a quick job. Seems the girl was only in London for a few days.

  The other letter was written by Burt. With any luck he’d found Lady Charlotte. She stopped herself from frowning and gave the landlord a polite smile. “I shall see you in a few days, Mr. Griffen.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Betsy strode as quickly as was proper to the cottage she’d bought in an area not far from the church. She’d even attended the services a time or two. Smirking, she imagined the looks on the faces of Mrs. Hall and Mrs. Eccles, the ladies living on either side of her, if they knew a common whore had drunk tea with them.

  She laughed to herself, but, on second thought, it wouldn’t be very funny at all. They’d chase her out of her house and the village. Not only for being a whore, but for acting better than she should.

  Her maid opened the door for her. “Shall I bring tea, ma’am?”

  “Yes, please.” One day she’d have an indoor male servant. The problem now was that they were more expensive and damned government put a tax on them too. “I shall be in my parlor.”

  The girl bobbed a curtsey. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Sitting down at her desk, Betsy pulled out a sheet of plain foolscap. Her pen had already been sharpened, and she dipped it into the ink.

  My dear sir,

 
The package you ordered will be delivered tomorrow. Meet me at the Dirty Duck off the main road between Richmond and Twickenham at ten o’clock in the morning.

  Payment must be rendered in coin before you receive the package.

  Yr. Servant

  B.

  She sprinkled sand on the paper and dusted it off before folding it, writing the address, and applying the sealing wax.

  Next, she opened the letter from Burt.

  Dear Ma’am,

  I found the package. I’ll deliver it tomorrow morning at the Duck.

  Yr. Servant

  B.

  She could scarcely believe her good fortune.

  Once again she wrote a note directing the second gentleman to meet her tomorrow at nine thirty in the morning. That was pushing her luck. It was early for a nob, but it would not do for the two men to meet, and she couldn’t take the chance of any of the Duck’s regular customers seeing her there. Not only that, but the next young lady should arrive at the Hare and Hound no later than this evening or tomorrow morning.

  All in all, this was a good day’s work. Once she delivered her ladyship to the gent, and the next package was delivered, she would be able to retire sooner than she’d thought.

  She pulled out another piece of pressed paper, and wrote a note to her solicitor asking him how long it would take him to make arrangements for her to travel to Italy, and to lease her house while she was gone. Six months ought to do it.

  * * *

  Dinner was long over when Charlotte cast Dotty a pleading look. Could she not take Merton away and give Charlotte time with Constantine? She wanted their future settled, and that was impossible to do with her cousins present.

  Putting her fingers over her mouth, Dotty feigned a yawn. “My love, I require your assistance.”

  Merton slid her a smoldering glance. “In that case, we should retire.” He rose, holding out his hand to her. “My love.”

  A moment later their door snicked shut, and Charlotte let out the breath she had been holding. Now she simply needed to be bold and go up to Constantine and kiss him.

  The next thing she knew, she was in his arms. So much for having to be bold. “I thought they would never go to bed.”

  He lowered his mouth to hers and she opened, allowing him access, running her tongue along his as he explored her mouth. He tasted like wine and male, and she had never tasted anything as good as he did at this moment. She hoped this meant that he had the same thoughts as she did. After all, earlier today she’d done her best to let him know that her feelings for him had changed. That she now looked forward to being in his arms and his life.

  Throughout the past week and particularly today, she had been amazed at how often their views ran in tandem. She spread her fingers through his hair, enjoying his soft tresses as she explored his mouth as well. Would he be surprised that she had changed her mind about him? No. He couldn’t be. Charlotte had given him enough hints. She’d been right not to let him kiss her like this until she was sure she wanted him, because now, she did not wish to stop and she had every intention of making him hers.

  Finally, Con was alone with Charlotte for the first time since they’d left the Hare and Hound. He thought the Mertons would never retire and allow him to show her how much he wanted her. Wanted to marry her, make her his marchioness, helpmate, and the mother of his children.

  He pulled her into his arms, slightly surprised that she came willingly.

  “Charlotte.” She tilted her head, deepening their kiss. If only they could do this all night, but he had to make sure she was not simply overcome by her first experience with lust. He drew back, and wanted to preen when her lips followed. “I think we worked well together today.”

  “I agree,” she said, her voice low, seductive. “We seldom disagreed at all.”

  Damn. When had she turned from an innocent into a siren? She slid her arms around his neck, pressing her lush breasts against his chest for the first time. His breath hitched and his cock swelled.

  This was even more of a statement than she had made earlier when she’d kissed him. He bent his head again, touching his lips to hers. Perhaps talking could wait for a while. Her mouth opened, and he took full advantage, tasting her, drinking as if he’d been stranded in a desert. A soft moan escaped her lips and her tongue touched his, tentatively at first as she learned how to take control, then with more confidence as if she wanted everything he could give her.

  She felt so good, so soft and lovely. Slowly, so as not to frighten her, Con cupped one of Charlotte’s breasts and feathered her nipple with his thumb. Tilting her head, once again she deepened the kiss and pressed her body tighter against him. This time, he moved his hand to her bottom, pulling it against him. Her fingers tangled with the hair at the nape of his neck, scraping his skull.

  Was this her way of telling him she would marry him? Or was it the danger they’d been in while rescuing Miss Cloverly making itself known? He damn well better find out before this went too far.

  Charlotte tightened her hold, slipping her body up his as she did. God, she was going to be the death of him. His cock was harder than it had ever been, pressing against her, and damn he wanted her like he had never desired another woman.

  He’d wanted her since the first time they’d met, but this . . . this was more. Not merely a seduction. Although, at the moment, he had no idea who was seducing whom. This was the woman he wanted for the rest of his life.

  Her grip on his neck loosened, and one of her hands slid beneath his jacket, then down to the small of his back. Her fingers hovered just above his bottom, tantalizingly close to touching him as he touched her.

  Con’s blood heated as if fires blazed on his skin and in his veins. He wanted his hands on her naked body and her hands on his. Never would he have thought an innocent could make him so hot. He wanted nothing more than to lift her skirts and plunge into her, making her his forever.

  Then she’d have to wed him. Or hate him for the rest of their lives. Christ, he didn’t even know if she knew what she was doing or the effect she had on him.

  And he needed to know.

  Now.

  If she was not willing to commit to him, to them, this had to stop before it went any further.

  He eased back from their kiss, pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth, then over her jaw and down her neck as she sighed.

  “Charlotte, my love.”

  Constantine’s lips were pressed against Charlotte’s neck, muffling his speech, but still she heard him clearly. She fought down the excitement she felt at being called his love. Did he truly love her, or was that just a term of endearment?

  How would she know? “Yes?”

  “Does this mean we will marry?” His voice was a low growl. “Soon?”

  Opening her eyes, she looked up at him. An anxious look clouded his green eyes. As if he had as many questions as she did, and she smiled. “Yes, it does.”

  “Thank God!” The words sounded more like a groan, and his mouth came down hard on hers.

  She almost laughed when he swept her into his arms. He must love her. Why else would he risk her anger and her family’s?

  “Your chamber, is it over there?”

  “It is.” Or perhaps he just wanted her and wasn’t in love, and didn’t care about what she felt.

  He held her close as his long strides ate up the distance to her door. “Your maid?”

  “I told her she wouldn’t be needed.” Charlotte pulled his head down and kissed him. Her friends told her his kiss would tell her what she wanted to know, but she wasn’t quite sure. Yet, perhaps it was herself she didn’t quite trust. Although, she should. Despite everything, her initial impression of him had been correct. Constantine was kind, and caring, and wanted to help those less fortunate than he. He had simply not understood he was hurting others. And once he had realized his mistake, he did something about it.

  She knew she was right. All this questioning herself was just a slight bit of fear at the cha
nge she was about to make. And the fact that he had not told her he loved her.

  He juggled her as he lifted the latch and opened the door. Once in the room, he carefully lowered her and she could feel every inch of his muscular body slide against hers as her feet touched the carpet.

  A ridge as hard as steel—that must be the reason some referred to it as a sword—rode against her stomach, and she wanted to caress it, but that might be a little too bold at the moment. Instead she rubbed against it, grinning to herself when he groaned again, gathering her into his arms.

  This, being with Constantine, felt right. Earlier today was the first time she’d thought she wanted him forever; now she knew she would never let him go.

  He lifted his head, breaking the kiss. A smile played around his firm lips, but his eyes were warm with desire. “Are you seducing me, my love?”

  There was that word again, love. Did he love her? She wanted to ask, but fear stopped her. What would she do if he did not? Yet, she was sure she loved him. But could she love him if he did not love her as well? Wrinkling her nose, she concentrated on the question at hand. “I’m trying to.”

  “Why?” He gazed down at her with a look so intense she was almost speechless.

  “Because we shall be m-married?” She felt like a fool. Surely, this was the moment she should tell him she loved him.

  “Is that all?” Constantine’s fingers tightened, binding her closer to him. “Charlotte, when this first—drat it. That’s not what I want to say. Charlotte, I love you. I cannot imagine a life without you. If you do not feel the same—”

  Thank heaven! “I love you too.” She pressed her lips to his, more eagerly than before. “I want to spend the rest of my days with you.”

  He rested his forehead against hers. “Then let’s do this properly.” He held her shoulders out just enough that they could see each other’s faces. “Lady Charlotte, will you do me the honor of being my wife, the mother of our children, and my marchioness? Will you go to bed with me every night and wake up with me each morning? Will you grow old with me? And will you always tell me when I’m being an idiot?”