You Can't Always Get the Marquess You Want

by Alexandra Hawkins

  “But, Mama—”

  “Not another word on the subject.” Her measured stare swept over all three of her children. “Have I made myself clear?”

  Mathias winced as his sisters glowered at each other. His mother was correct. Rainbault was a rogue and not a worthy suitor for any of his sisters. He would have to warn Rainbault of Mercy’s lofty ambitions. Over the years, his friend had done nothing more than casually tease the girls as if they were his sisters, but Mercy had clearly developed an affection for the gentleman. He met his mother’s mildly disapproving gaze and noted the increased color in his mother’s cheeks. “Too much sun, perhaps?”

  “You are your father’s son,” his mother replied. “You are capable of charming and annoying females of all ages with little effort. I almost pity the young ladies who capture your interest this season.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Almost?”

  “Well, I am your mother,” she said dryly. “For the sake of my future grandchildren, it would be best if you marry their mother.”

  “You will forgive me if it takes a few years to find this paragon,” he said, always appreciative of his mother’s wit. “If you need to play matchmaker, you might consider finding a good woman for Thorn. He seems a bit lost without his twin brother.”

  Her expression softened with concern at the mention of their cousins. “Eight months have passed since I received a letter from Gideon. I pray he has been more dedicated in his correspondence with his brother.”

  “I doubt it,” he confessed. “Thorn doesn’t complain, but I swear his temperament darkens with each passing year. In fact, I—”

  A lady wearing a French cambric round dress with a blue and white checked pelisse scattered his thoughts. Her leghorn bonnet prevented him from seeing her face, but there was something familiar about her, he mused. If they were not at the mercy of the traffic, the carriage would already have passed her and her companions, and he would have been able to solve the mystery of her identity.

  The lady obliged his curiosity by glancing over her shoulder, and he realized it was Lady Tempest. She was not alone. Their small party consisted of her chaperone, another lady, and a footman. He watched as two gentlemen and another lady caught up to them. Lady Tempest embraced the young woman and was genuinely pleased by the interruption.

  Who the devil were those two fellows?

  “Mathias,” his mother softly called. When his gaze switched back to hers, she smiled. “You were saying?”

  “What? I do beg your pardon,” he said, resisting the urge to glance in the direction of Lady Tempest and her party. “I have forgotten what I was going to say.”

  “Chance was staring at the ladies,” Honora tattled, noting the direction of his gaze. “Though, I must say his taste is improving. Whoever they are, they have paid a small fortune for those dresses.”

  “I was not staring,” he mildly protested at his mother’s questioning glance. “Not precisely. I thought one of the gentlemen chatting with the ladies seemed familiar. Perhaps someone I encountered at one of my clubs.”

  When his mother and sisters turned to take a closer look at the gentleman he claimed to know, Mathias groaned. He doubted his mother would recognize Lady Tempest, but he had no desire to put his assumptions to the test.

  “Close your mouth, Honora,” Mathias snapped. “Do you want to swallow a fly?” He tapped his walking stick against the bench to gain the coachman’s attention. “Any way around this tangle, or should we disembark?”

  Even as he asked the question, the coachman signaled the horses to move forward. “We should be fine now, milord. Don’t ye worry.”

  He discreetly glanced at Lady Tempest as their carriage rolled by her and her friends, but she was unaware of his presence. After the kiss they had shared in the Oxtons’ gardens, he had been considering how he might see her again without gaining the scrutiny of her brother or the rest of her family.

  Mathias smiled at his mother.

  Or mine.

  Not that Lady Tempest had been particularly encouraging when she strolled away from him with Lord Vanewright at her side.

  Still, the lady had kissed him and she had enjoyed it.

  If given the opportunity, he would do it again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You have a new admirer,” Harriet whispered in her ear.

  Tempest grinned as she accepted the small paper-wrapped package that contained several pairs of gloves and a fan she had impulsively purchased. Lady Harriet Caspwell was a year older than Tempest and a distant cousin. She also considered herself an expert on gentlemen, since she had been raised with four older brothers and had recently become betrothed to Lord Medeley.

  “Pray tell me your gentleman does not possess a fickle heart,” she teased, knowing the young earl was wholly smitten with his lady. If Harriet’s mother had not insisted on their being wed at St. George’s, Tempest was certain the couple would have headed north to Gretna Green the second her cousin had accepted his offer of marriage.

  Confident in herself and the gentleman who loved her, Harriet gave her a playful nudge as they headed toward the open doorway where Lord Medeley, his sister, and Lord Chandler waited for them.

  “You know I speak of the viscount. He sees no one but you, Cousin.”

  Tempest could not disagree when the gentleman they were discussing was indeed watching their approach. The same age as she, Anthony Warren, Viscount Chandler, was the Earl of Eyre’s heir. Her father did not have a high opinion of Lord Eyre, and dismissed the son as too young and weak for his daughter. She doubted a year had altered her father’s opinion, but the viscount was a handsome devil, and his interest was flattering.

  “Poor Lady Joan,” Harriet murmured with pity lacing her voice. “It is obvious that she adores Lord Chandler, and feels intimidated by your presence.”

  “I have been nothing but kind to her,” Tempest protested.

  “She fears you will steal her beloved viscount from her. It is the only reason why she did not join us. It is rather pathetic how she simpers and guards him like a faithful hound.”

  “Be kind, Harriet,” Tempest replied, pasting a smile on her face so their waiting companions would not deduce that they were being discussed. “You have found your true love and he returns your affection. Not all of us are so fortunate.”

  “If you are referring to you and Rinehart, your argument has no merit,” her cousin argued, forcing her words through her clenched teeth as she smiled at her earl.

  “How so?”

  Without looking at her, Harriet tipped her chin high. “Your father was the one who was in love with Rinehart.”

  It was such an outrageous statement, Tempest burst out laughing.

  “Care to share the jest?” Lord Chandler said, easily transferring her small package from her hands to his. His uninvited courtesy earned him a frown from Joan.

  Tempest glanced at her cousin, which caused both ladies to giggle. She shook her head. “My cousin likes to tease those she loves. Lord Medeley, you have my sympathies.”

  The twenty-eight-year-old earl was not as handsome as the viscount, but there was love and kindness in his vivid blue eyes when his gaze settled on Harriet. “I look forward to the time when I can listen to her laughter each day. Perhaps we should elope, my love.”

  While Harriet explained yet again how disappointed her family would be if they ran off to be married in Scotland, Tempest shared a commiserating glance with Lord Chandler. There was nothing so wonderful or annoying as a young couple in love.

  The viscount tucked the package under his arm so he could offer his elbow. “Where shall we go next, Lady Tempest? I am yours to command.”

  “I wish to visit the bookseller’s shop,” a very disgruntled Lady Joan murmured behind them.

  The wooden walkway was congested with pedestrians, and there was barely enough room for a strolling couple; otherwise, Tempest would have encouraged Lady Joan to walk beside them.

  “How fortuitous! I would like
to visit the bookseller, too,” Tempest said, turning back and smiling at the dour Lady Joan.

  Something akin to hatred burned in the other woman’s eyes. Tempest glanced away. She had no reason to dislike Harriet’s future sister-in-law, but the lady’s friendly demeanor had chilled the moment she realized that she had competition for the viscount’s affections.

  “An appreciation for the written word,” Lord Chandler said, oblivious to the tension between Tempest and Lady Joan. It only increased at his next observation. “Just one more thing we have in common.”

  * * *

  With an air of impatience, Mathias slipped his pocket watch back into its pocket in his waistcoat. He stood outside the dressmaker’s shop while his mother and sisters admired the recent fashions and fabrics. Since his interest in a lady’s attire was limited to how quickly he could relieve her of her dress and underclothes, he announced that he would wait for them outdoors. His position also gave him the opportunity to observe Lady Tempest’s progress.

  “There you are,” his mother said cheerfully. The footman behind his sisters had his arms filled with several large boxes. “How bored are you?”

  “Not at all,” Mathias said, offering the duchess his arm. “Although I was thinking that our next stop should be the bookseller’s shop.”

  “When do you read?” Honora asked bluntly.

  “I have intellectual pursuits,” Mathias said, trying not to sound defensive when confronted with his sister’s disbelief. “I will admit that I have little patience for novels like that romantic drivel recently published by Lady Caroline Lamb. However, I do find a quiet moment to read on occasion.”

  “No one is certain who published Glenarvon,” the duchess said, striving to be diplomatic, though the three-volume tale had caused quite a stir among the members of the ton.

  As they crossed to the other side of the street, he said, “Mother, everyone knows who authored the damn books. Just as no one is surprised that the lady waited until Byron departed England before she dared to have it published.”

  Honora giggled. “I have enjoyed Lord Byron’s literary efforts. Perhaps I should read Glenarvon.”

  “No, you will not,” the duchess said sharply. Her lips trembled as she tried not to smile when her gaze locked with Mathias’s. “Always causing mischief, my boy. Come, Honora and Mercy. Let us see if we can find something less scandalous to read.”

  Her Grace and his sisters headed left while Mathias lingered near the entrance of the shop. He did not want to be obvious in his search for Lady Tempest, nor did he wish to alert the lady to his presence immediately.

  There.

  His breath caught in his throat as his mother and sisters approached Lady Tempest. The duchess was speaking quietly to Mercy, so there was no hesitation in her step as his mother and two sisters strolled by Norgrave’s daughter. Lady Tempest glanced up from the book in her hand, but there was nothing but mild curiosity in her gaze before she returned her attention to the open pages.

  She stood several yards away from two of her companions. On closer inspection, he recognized the gentleman. Lord Chandler. His head was tilted to one side as he listened to the lady standing next to him, but his attention was solely focused on Lady Tempest. Mathias wondered if she was aware that the viscount was in love with her. With some amusement, he noted that Chandler’s companion was aware of his attraction and she was not happy about it.

  The other couple had distanced themselves from their friends. The gentleman was Lord Medeley. Someone had placed a wager in the betting book that the earl and his betrothed, Lady Harriet Caspwell would not wed on the date set by the family. By their flirtatious glances, Mathias doubted the man desired to escape his matrimonial fate. He was so certain the marriage would take place, he intended to place his own wager on the couple the next time he visited the club.

  Keeping track of his family, Lady Tempest, and her friends, Mathias picked up a book and casually strolled about the shop. His course to the lady was indirect. He halted at each table and feigned interest in the various books, deliberately keeping his back to Lady Tempest so she would not recognize him until it was too late to avoid him. Nor did he wish his mother and sister to figure out that something other than his appreciation for the written word had lured him into the shop.

  Lady Tempest sensed his presence when he had finally positioned himself on the opposite side of the table of books she was inspecting. Her eyes flared in surprise and then narrowed in suspicion at his grin. Her swift glance in Lord Chandler’s direction caused Mathias’s eyes to narrow as well.

  Worried about Chandler, was she? Perhaps he should give her an excuse to worry about him.

  Mathias circled around the table until he and Lady Tempest were standing side by side.

  With a book gripped in one hand, he picked up another and inspected its spine. “Miss me, darling?”

  “What are you doing here?” Without giving him a chance to reply, she asked, “Were you following me?”

  “Not at all,” he denied, which was partially true. While he might have followed her into the bookseller’s shop, he had not expected to encounter her this afternoon. “I am escorting my mother and sisters on their shopping excursion.”

  Lady Tempest swayed and Mathias worried for a second that she might faint. “Good grief, your mother is here,” she whispered, obviously dismayed by the news.

  His entire body tensed as he prepared to grab her if she tried to run for the door. “Calm yourself, my dear lady. If you flee, you will only draw unwanted attention to us.”

  She refused to look at him. Instead she shut the book she had been reading and selected another. “You need to come up with an excuse to leave the shop.”

  “The duchess has her heart set on purchasing a book. I cannot disappoint her by insisting that we depart immediately.”

  “I am not alone.” She moved away from him.

  Mathias took his time, but he slowly returned to her side. “Are you referring to Lord Chandler?” He turned, positioning himself so he was facing the opposite direction. “He is watching us.”

  “More reason for you to stay away from me,” she hissed under her breath.

  “When can we meet?” he abruptly asked.

  Mathias had entered the shop with no firm plans beyond gazing at Lady Tempest from across the room. If an opportunity presented itself, he had hoped to speak with her. The viscount’s presence and apparent interest in the lady had prodded him into more direct action.

  “We cannot,” was her flat reply. She moved on to the next table.

  A few minutes later, they stood back to back.

  “It is impossible,” she murmured.

  “Nonsense,” Mathias countered. He searched the shop for his mother and noted that she was watching him. There was a quizzical expression on her face. Acknowledging her perusal with a nod of his head, he smiled and raised his hand. “I enjoy challenges.”

  “Have you found anything of interest?” Lord Chandler inquired, his approach ending Mathias’s conversation with Lady Tempest.

  “I have not made up my mind,” she replied.

  Mathias walked away, unable to discern if the words were meant for him or a sincere response to viscount. He glanced down at the book in his hands and suddenly grinned when he noted the title. It was perfect, he thought as he sought out a shop clerk.

  Five minutes later, he returned to his mother and sisters. He gestured to the books in his mother’s hands. “Are you ready to leave?”

  “Yes, I believe so,” his mother said, handing the books to him. “I noticed you found a beautiful young lady to amuse you while you waited for me to come to a decision.”

  “Did I?” he said, sounding amused. “Why would I bother when I am escorting the most beautiful woman in the shop?”

  “And such a flatterer,” the duchess replied, pleased but not fooled by his deliberate attempt to distract her. “Once the clerk has added the books to our bill, we can depart.”

  * * *


  Tempest returned the book to the table as she discreetly observed Lord Fairlamb purchase the books for the Duchess of Blackbern. He had not made another attempt to speak with her again. Nor had he bothered to look in her direction. She should have been relieved that he had given up so easily. Lord Chandler had remained at Tempest’s side, much to her dismay. Not to mention Lady Joan’s. The two ladies stood in uncomfortable silence as the viscount took it upon himself to select a book for her. Her discomfort increased tenfold when a side glance revealed Lord Fairlamb’s mother and younger sisters had to walk past her to reach the door. Perhaps it was her fanciful imagination, but she felt the Duchess of Blackbern’s gaze slide over her. Seizing the nearest book, she opened it and practically buried her nose in the crease until she was certain Her Grace was gone.

  “You will ruin your pretty hazel eyes if you persist in holding the book so close,” Lord Chandler teased.

  “What? Of course,” Tempest said, lowering the book. It was then that she realized to her disappointment that Chance was no longer in the shop.

  Her cousin and Lord Medeley joined their little group.

  “I have found nothing that interests me,” Harriet announced. There was a healthy amount of color in her cheeks, which revealed that the lady had spent most of her time flirting with her future husband.

  “Shall I procure the book for you, Lady Tempest?”

  She stared down at the novel she held in her hands. Her unexpected encounter with Lord Fairlamb had distracted her, and she had yet to select a book. Since it had been her suggestion to visit the shop, it seemed foolish to leave without making a purchase. “It is kind of you to offer, Lord Chandler. However, it will take me only a moment to see to the matter.”

  Tempest separated from her friends and walked to the counter. She did not wish to encourage the viscount by allowing him to gift her with the book. Nor did she think Lady Joan would approve.

  The male clerk smiled at her approach. “Good afternoon, my lady. Shall I add this to your other purchase?”