Only a Marquess Will Do: To Marry a Rogue, Book 4

by Gill, Tamara

  Albert let himself into the house, his staff well used to the strange times he came and went. He walked into the library and went directly to the latest book he had received from London about the life story of Moll Flanders, having left it on his desk before he'd set off to write this afternoon. An amusing and interesting account, with some bawdy tales that entertained him.

  With his books featuring scenes similar to those he found in Daniel Defoe's book, he hoped he at least sounded as true and accurate as this author. His career would be over should the public know the truth. That one of their favorite gothic romance authors who pens tales of intrigue, horror, and passionate encounters was as virginal as a debutante newly arrived in London. A marquess, too, even more humiliating. Lords ought to know how to romance a lady or rake about town.

  He was living a lie, at least portraying one. But then, he supposed his books were a work of fiction, and his characters had nothing to prove. But soon, he would need to search for a wife in earnest. Court her, as awkward and clumsy as he was when in verbal conversation with females. The thought made him frown. Next week he would see Lady Victoria, and his ineptitude would be even more noticeable. Her vivaciousness for life, her confidence shamed his introverted self. For years he had wanted the gumption to implement some of the things he'd found in the sketches with her, seduce her into marriage with him.

  A dream that was unlikely to come true. He required a wife who at least wished for a husband. Lady Victoria Worthingham, as much as he longed for the position to be filled by her, was the one woman in England sworn off ever marrying again. Everyone knew it, and so did he. Someone else would have to do.

  Chapter 2

  Dunsleigh, 1811

  The guests to their country ball and short house party arrived a week after the 1811 Season had come to an end. After their return, Victoria had the following day walked up to the family mausoleum and paid her respects to her papa, a man she missed more with each passing year, especially when she saw all that he missed by being gone. The many grandchildren being born, the happy marriages, the balls, and parties that she knew he loved so very much.

  Tonight was the formal dinner the night before the ball, where the guests could relax and enjoy a more intimate get together after their journeys to Surrey. There would be music and games, cards for the gentlemen, and of course, the guests could stroll the extensive grounds, or enjoy the billiards room or conservatory if they chose.

  It seemed all of London had descended on Dunsleigh for the ball, including a lot of the local gentry, some of whom rarely went up to London at all.

  Lord Melvin one of them. After dinner, Victoria stood beside Alice, discussing those who were in attendance. Her sister was positively glowing with a second pregnancy in as many years, and Callum, her adoring husband, kept vigil from across the room, speaking to her two brothers-in-law, the Earl of Muir and the Duke of Moore.

  "What do you think of Lord Melvin? He does seem most uncomfortable with Miss Fletcher, do you not think? Why," Victoria said, sipping her ratafia with amusement, "I do believe he is sweating. Look." She shook Alice's arm a little.

  Her sister cast a cursory glance, not wanting to be too obvious in their appraisal of him. "Oh dear, he's pulling at his cravat. What do you think Miss Fletcher has said to him to make him so uncomfortable?

  Something about the gentleman had always drawn Victoria. She supposed as a lover of animals, of dogs especially and horses, to see a man who looked as downtrodden and as uncomfortable as a puppy surrounded by wolves would make one feel bad for the man.

  Feel sorry for the unfortunate.

  As one of her brother's closest friends since school, they knew him well, and for many years. In the two years since she'd seen him last, his lordship appeared even more uneasy around company. As if society made him physically ill.

  She cringed when he fumbled for his handkerchief and dabbed at his brow. "He's nervous. Maybe he likes Miss Fletcher."

  Victoria narrowed her eyes at the idea of Lord Melvin seeking to court the young heiress. From the way Miss Fletcher controlled the narrative of their conversation, she couldn't help but think the poor man would never get a word in.

  But then he probably wouldn't get a word in with her either, so there was that. Even so, as she studied him, she couldn't help but think he'd like to bolt like one of her mares when let out of the stables after a few days. "Do you think I should save him and pull Miss Fletcher away for a turn about the room?"

  Alice cast her a cursory glance. "Why the interest in Lord Melvin?" She tipped her head to the side, regarding the gentleman. "I suppose he is quite sweet-looking. A little bookish perhaps, but that is nothing if he has other skills."

  Victoria snorted and covered her inappropriate lapse of ladylike manners by covering her mouth with her hand. She took several moments to stop chuckling. "I'm not even going to ask what you mean by that, Alice. But let me enlighten you, dear sister. I have seen you and your husband when you think you're alone, and so I can assume very well what 'skills' you mean."

  Alice did not bat an eyelash, nor did she blush. She simply grinned, sipping her wine. "I suppose what one does not know can be taught. Myself included. I was quite enlightened after marrying Callum."

  "And what are we to do should both the couples be clueless?" Not that she was or that she thought Lord Melvin would be so very naïve when it came to seduction and women. He was a man, after all. A marquess. He could not have been so secluded and innocent, no matter if he spent all of his time in the country. He probably had a gaggle of women willing and able to warm his bed in Hampshire.

  She narrowed her eyes at the thought. At that very moment, his lordship glanced away from Miss Fletcher, his attention colliding with hers. The fear, the uncomfortable mess he was just an instant before vanished, and a determined light entered his eyes that she’d never seen before. What did that mean?

  Alice cleared her throat, grinning over the top of her crystal glass. "Well, well, well, he certainly looks a lot more dashing when he sees you. I wonder...".

  Victoria moved her attention on to the dancers, feigning interest in them instead. "Do not be asinine, Alice. I'm not the least interested in Lord Melvin and nor is he in me."

  "I believe the same may not be said for his lordship."

  "What about a certain lordship?" their older sister Elizabeth, Countess Muir, asked, joining them and kissing them both in turn on their cheeks.

  Victoria clasped her sister's arm, having not seen her for several months since they resided most of the time at Muirdeen, their Scottish estate.

  Alice nodded in Lord Melvin's direction. "Victoria has sparked the interest of a certain marquess. Although instead of a rogue, which I'm sure you would agree with me make the best husbands, he seems more righteous."

  Elizabeth grinned at Victoria. "There is nothing wrong with righteousness. Henry wasn't a rogue, far from it, and he's simply delightful to be married to."

  "That is true, and really, I suppose Callum wasn't either. Not a rascal one in any case. So there may be hope for our Lord Melvin after all."

  Victoria stepped away from her sisters, pinning them with disapproving glares. "You forget my husband was the worst of men. Whoring his way around England and the continent. There is no 'our Lord Melvin,' and you must stop saying such things. I noticed his unease and merely commented on it. You're reading too much into my observations."

  Elizabeth tossed Alice a knowing smile. "Of course, dearest, but that does not mean all men are the same," she said, her voice cajoling.

  "I'm going to find Isolde. You two are impossible." Victoria strode off, locating Isolde beside her mama. Her sister’s husband—who doted on his wife to the point of nauseating regularity—winked at Victoria when she came up to them. She bussed his cheek and then her sister’s. "We need to disown our other two sisters, they're impossible."

  Their mother raised her brow, looking over to where Alice and Elizabeth talked and laughed amongst themselves. "What have they done to y
ou, dearest? Do you wish for me to speak to them?"

  Victoria shook her head, knowing her grievances with her siblings weren't so very bad. That they teased her over a man she herself was curious about did not help. She didn't like everyone knowing her secrets. She had not thought mentioning Lord Melvin's unease would cause such curiosity. Or the fact of seeing him with a woman would disarm her so very much. After the death of her husband, she had promised herself a life of doing whatever she wished. No more husbands to make fools of their wives. The desire to travel and a life of adventure awaited her. Having children and a spouse did not.

  "It is nothing, Mama. Do not trouble yourself."

  Her mama studied her a moment before one of her friends waved her over to join them and she excused herself.

  "Tell me you're staying at Dunsleigh for several weeks. I do not think I can stand being here with only Alice as a neighbor to keep me company."

  The disappointment on Isolde's face told Victoria that she was not staying long. "We are for home next week, my love. But you may come with us if you like. We should love to have you if you wished for a little diversion. Wiltshire is very lovely this time of year."

  "I best stay with mama. She'll be alone here should I go anywhere, and with Josh abroad, I had better not go too far away. But thank you, maybe Mama and I can both come and see you for a week or two before Christmas."

  "That would be lovely," Isolde said.

  Happy with this plan, Victoria spoke to guests as they socialized about the room. The evening was a success and in full swing by the time supper was served. Victoria stood at the threshold of the supper room doors, content to watch those who were hungry eating. She reached up and massaged her nape when a prickling of awareness skittered across her skin.

  She turned and found Lord Melvin several paces behind her. His unease at the crowded supper room visible on his pinched features. Victoria took pity on the man, going into the room and picking several favorite dishes of hers before quitting the space.

  "Lord Melvin, how good to see you tonight. I have some supper for you if you would like a repast."

  He gazed down at the plate of food, and it seemed to break the spell of inactivity that plagued him. "Oh, Lady Victoria, I thank you. You did not have to do such a service for me."

  "I'm a hostess here this evening with my mama, my lord. It is only right that each of our guests is cared for."

  He took the plate, his fingers grazing hers at the interchange, and Victoria started at the feel of his gloved fingers against hers. He was warm, with strong hands that made her feel a little odd. A little too curious for her liking.

  "It's crab cakes and lobster in jelly. They're my first choice at any ball. I hope you like them."

  His lips tilted into a half smile. Victoria sensed that when relaxed, this man would open up like a flower. Not that she viewed most men as plants, but with her at least, right now, the fear that lurked in his dark-blue orbs had dissipated.

  "I do thank you," he said again.

  She stayed with him with nowhere else to be for a time, content to wait for supper to end and the dancing to begin again. "I have not seen you tread the ballroom floor this evening. Do you not like to dance, my lord?" she asked him.

  He chewed and swallowed one of his crab cakes before answering, "I do enjoy dancing, and if you are not otherwise engaged, would you dance the next set with me?"

  "The next set is to open with a waltz. Do you waltz too, my lord?"

  "I have been known to on occasion," he drawled, his voice dropping to a deep, husky purr that she did not think him capable of. Not with his nervousness that plagued him. The man was so very curious. A sense of anticipation thrummed down her spine, and she liked the idea of being in his arms. “Then the dance is yours, my lord. Come find me when you have finished your supper.” Would he falter or endure? Something told Victoria she was about to find out.

  Chapter 3

  By the time supper had ended and the musicians set up for the commencement of the next set, Albert had all but lost his nerve. It was one thing to invite a woman out to dance, but it was quite another to follow through with the act.

  What if he stumbled and fell, pulled Lady Victoria down with him? What if he grew more nervous than he already was and sweated profusely? The idea of stepping on her toes, hurting her delicate feet was beyond reprehensible and unforgivable.

  She would never dance with him again, and he wanted her to dance with him, especially now. Now that she was out of mourning for her husband. The fool Armstrong had lost a prize when he tossed Lady Victoria over for a maid not long after their marriage. Whatever was the man thinking! Albert certainly did not know or understand such motives.

  He would never throw her over for anyone else. How could he, she was perfection personified.

  Like an angel, she materialized before him, holding out her hand, a mischievous light in her eyes. "Our dance, I believe, Lord Melvin."

  He led her out onto the floor, hoping his nervousness did not shine through. Women in general made him fumble like a fool, but Victoria more so than any. He didn't want her to view him as some simpleton. He wanted her to view him as so much more.

  Like a gentleman. A man.

  Albert pulled her into his arms as the music commenced. She was tall for a woman. Her eyes level with his chin. Her body was soft, womanly, and his, for a little time at least.

  She smelled divine, like jasmine and soap. Never had he ever smelled something so sweet before. Her fingers flexed on his shoulder, and she looked up to meet his gaze. "I do believe this is our first dance, my lord."

  How he wished it were more than that pitiful number. Albert had longed to ask her during the seasons he traveled to town to step out with him. He had wanted to have her in his arms more times than he could count, but his nerves never allowed him to speak the words necessary.

  He wasn't sure why he was the way he was, and as much as he tried to hide his anxieties from the ton, they were always there, beneath his skin and threatening to make him miss out on life.

  He supposed maybe his father's mistreatment of his family had something to do with it.

  "We missed you this Season in town, my lord. Do say you're to attend next year."

  He glanced down and met Lady Victoria's eyes. She was always so genuine and kind. Was it wishful thinking on his behalf that she would look at him more than a friend? If she gave him a chance to prove himself, he would not let her down.

  Not an easy conquest when she was determined never to marry again, or so the gossips tittered behind their fans.

  "I may attend. Will you be there, my lady, or has a gentleman now won your heart, and you're to be married?" Albert wasn't sure where the words came from, inappropriate and rude. He frowned, wishing he had a filter on his mouth at times. If he could have smacked himself about the head, he would have, knowing she wasn’t long out of mourning.

  Victoria laughed, easing a little of his tension. "No, I'm not engaged as I'm certain you already know. I'm home at Dunsleigh for the foreseeable future, until my brother returns home and helps me with my travels abroad. My sister is in a delicate state yet again you see, and I wish to be close to her. Josh will return from abroad before Christmas so it will be a jolly good time here. One that is sorely needed after the past two years we have endured."

  Albert understood her words but did not pry any further. The scandal her husband caused, the pain and embarrassment she must have withstood would have been enough to cripple him in society permanently. And yet, here she was, rising from the ashes like the strong, capable woman he knew her to be. How fortunate she was to have a supportive family. Other than his mama, there was no one else he could turn to, but a distant cousin he hardly knew. His father had passed, and he had no siblings.

  It was no wonder people concerned him so much. He wasn't used to them.

  "I shall like to see Penworth again. It has been almost a year."

  "Yes, by the time Josh returns home, he would have been away that l
ong. We're all so very excited to see him again." She looked up at him, her eyes wide and clear and direct. Always with the ability to pin someone to the ground with one look. "I forget you are friends with Josh. He has so many, but you were very close once. Still are, I hope."

  They were still close. He received a monthly letter from the duke, one person other than Victoria he was calm around. Not that he was so very calm around Victoria right at this moment. Having her in his arms made him want things he'd never imagined before.

  His gaze dipped to her lips, and he watched as she spoke of this and that, the ball and the guests, the food, and how late the night would be. All the while, all he could think about was if the pink, pouty flesh of her lips was as soft as it looked.

  With some alarm, he realized she had stopped speaking and was staring at his mouth as well. Her tongue flicked out, licking her lips, and his body grew taut.

  He read the question in hers, surprise even. Albert cleared his throat, breaking the spell between them. "With you home and Penworth due to return, may I invite you all over for dinner one evening at Rosedale? I admit my staff and their exemplary cooking abilities are poorly underutilized."

  She smiled, and the action made her appear more beautiful than she already was. Albert had always thought Victoria the prettiest of the Worthingham sisters, tall and bold, but also caring even though he suspected very few other than her family knew how kind she was.

  She certainly always took pity on him, made him feel welcome. A marquess or not, that wasn't something every one of his acquaintances fulfilled.

  "I do not believe I've ever been to your estate, my lord. I understand Rosedale is very beautiful."