To Marry A Marquess (A Regency Romance)

by Teresa McCarthy

  Her family was to return home today. They would not have known of her absence since they had been staying in the country near the Duke of Glenshire's Estate for the past two weeks. Victoria had asked to be excused from the journey because of a slight cold, and though Phoebe had planned on canceling their outing in the country, Victoria had insisted that the lady do nothing of the sort.

  After much cajoling, Phoebe reluctantly agreed to travel without her niece, but only on the promise that if Victoria became worse, she would send a letter by special messenger immediately. Mrs. Dorling, their housekeeper, was the sole person who knew about Victoria's absence. Although the elder woman did not like the idea of Victoria's flimsy excuse to visit a sick friend, she told Victoria she would say nothing to Lady Phoebe, since the poor lady had enough to worry about.

  Sighing, Victoria placed her drink on the rosewood sideboard and fished inside her pocket for the ruby ring. She would never sell it, and she dared not show it to anybody. She could never claim to be a countess. People might believe she killed Nightham. Her family would never survive the scandal. And who knew if she had been legally married to the earl in the first place?

  Nightham's death had been reported in the papers, but the news had been scant at best. The pirate must have paid a good sum for the story to be hushed.

  Sheer panic rippled through her veins at the thought of that man. It was a miracle she had escaped him. After she had descended the tree, she had made a mad dash to the stables and discovered a driver heading back to London with his master's coach. A few blinks of her lashes, and she had a lift back to Town.

  She would have been a good wife to Nightham, she told herself. Her family had needed money. What else could she have done? There was no man to provide for Aunt Phoebe. Little William needed proper schooling. And Sarah deserved a proper dowry. But now, all seemed lost.

  Where were the papers to prove her marriage - if there was a marriage in the first place? And should she seek answers from a solicitor and risk the chance of being thrown into Newgate for Nightham's murder? Or was it best to stay quiet?

  Her head had been spinning with questions since Nightham's death. But at the moment, keeping quiet seemed the best alternative until she decided what to do. Tears burned the back of her eyes as she thought about the earl. She could not outwardly mourn him because everyone would know of her predicament and accuse her of murder. She had only made things worse by her impulsive actions.

  Her stomach tightened in dread as she thought about her family's situation. It had been two months earlier when she had come across her aunt's ledger. She had met Nightham at a ball days later. Aunt Phoebe rarely accepted invitations to balls because they reminded her too much of Uncle Henry. Phoebe kept to the fringe of Society, living in a small world of close-knit friends and cozy soirees, but it seemed that the ball had been one of her exceptions.

  "Hellooooo! Anyone here?"

  Victoria quickly dropped the ring back into her pocket and wiped the tears from her eyes as William's voice reverberated throughout the house. Her family was home.

  She smiled when she caught sight of the boy taking a flying leap in the hall and landing on his bottom with a pronounced thud.

  "Whew! That was fun, Mama. Can I do it again? Can I?" The boy jumped up, ready to partake in another jump, when Aunt Phoebe held him back.

  Victoria laughed, watching her little cousin wiggle like a worm on a hook, trying to disengage himself from his mother’s strong arm.

  "Enough, William," Phoebe exclaimed. "I declare, you smell like a dead fish. Take off those wet things this minute. You’ve tracked mud everywhere. Look at those stairs, young man."

  Aunt Phoebe looked stern, but beneath that taut expression was a heart as soft as cotton.

  "William, I'm warning you," Phoebe replied. "Not another step or you will spend the rest of today and tomorrow in your room. Do you understand, young man?"

  "Yes, Mother." His bottom lip formed into a large shovel while his blue eyes twinkled with mischief. Before Phoebe had a chance to grab him again, he jumped out of her arms and bounded into the drawing room.

  "Vicki," he cried. "Did you miss me?"

  Victoria grinned as her cousin's muddy shoes thumped across the rug. Unruly golden locks peeked out from a dark blue cap. She pulled him into her arms, swinging him around full circle, then set him down.

  "Well, William." Her wary gaze took in the boy's devilish smile. "What gift have you brought back for me this time?"

  William, known for carrying around tiny creatures of one sort or the other, especially after a trip from the country, thumped his chest with his fist and peered up at her with two of the most innocent blue eyes in the world. "Moi?"

  Victoria raised a finely arched brow. At six, the boy was smarter than most ten-year-olds. "Yes, you."

  "Oh, Victoria, you missed a marvelous time."

  Phoebe walked into the room. She pulled off her gloves and straightened her lavender traveling outfit, giving William a stern eye at the mud he had dragged in.

  Victoria smiled.

  At forty-years-old, her Aunt Phoebe was still a beautiful woman. Her blond hair, swept high on her head, posed not a streak of gray. Her bubbly personality only added to the beauty of her slender form and her wonderful heart. Though the lady swooned a little too often, the males that swarmed around her seemed to enjoy that feminine eccentricity.

  "I should have insisted that you come along with us, my dear." Phoebe gave Victoria a squeezing hug and stepped back, her eyes narrowing in concern. "The minute I left, I knew I should not have left you alone with that cold."

  "But I'm quite fine, as you can very well see," Victoria said, hiding her pain.

  "Pshaw! Nothing can become something if one does not take care of oneself. I was just telling Sarah that we should have insisted you come along. You talked me into it, you know. And you do not look fine. What are those dark circles under your eyes?"

  Victoria smiled. "You are a worrier, Aunt Phoebe. I am in the best of health. But I do admit, I missed you all terribly."

  "Depend upon it, my girl. I will never leave you alone again. I know you are very capable, and I am certain Mrs. Dorling cared for you like a mother, but I did worry, you know."

  Victoria took her aunt's hand in hers. "I recovered faster than William could hop across that rug."

  William giggled. "Want to see me do it again?"

  Phoebe eyed the child with a disapproving glare. "No thank you, William. We have seen enough of your hopping for an entire year." She turned back to Victoria and gave her a wink. "Nevertheless, we did so many things in the country. Why, we even dined with His Grace, the Duke of Glenshire."

  "Indeed, we had such a grand time."

  Eighteen-year-old Sarah, her brown curls bouncing about her heart-shaped face, smiled as she passed through the doors and enveloped Victoria in a loving embrace. "We missed you terribly, and I won't hear of you staying home the next time we venture into the country, even if you do have the sniffles."

  "Next time, I promise to go with you." If I am not in Newgate, Victoria thought with dread.

  Sarah gave an amusing nod toward her aunt. "I daresay, we will be traveling there soon, if Aunt Phoebe can help it."

  Victoria lifted an inquisitive brow. "Ah, do I see a handsome man throwing his amorous advances in your direction?" She touched her finger to her aunt's shoulder.

  "Now, girls." Phoebe's cheeks grew red. "The situation is nothing like that."

  "Like what?" William protested, pulling on his cousin's violet skirt. "Who is throwing arms and ants at Mama?"

  Phoebe's eyes widened. The girls giggled.

  "Amorous advances, silly." Sarah patted his curly blond head and scooted him off toward their housekeeper and part-time nanny, Mrs. Dorling. "And it would be best if you had no more information than that."

  The plump lady smiled as she stood by the open doors waiting for William. The boy squirmed in Mrs. Dorling's arms when he caught the wink his mother gave the
housekeeper.

  "Let-me-go, I say! Botheration! I do not want a horrid bath!"

  Mrs. Dorling grabbed his flying arms. "'Tis not a bath, William. You are to be a pirate in your own wee boat. A captain must be clean as a whistle when he meets up with his crew."

  William looked up, eyes wide. "Why the blazes did you not say that in the first place?"

  Phoebe glowered at her son. "William, your language, please. Go upstairs and a tray will be sent up before you go to bed."

  William frowned, then looked at Mrs. Dorling. "Very well. Take me to your ship, my lady." He skipped passed the drawing room doors, but before his head disappeared from view, he managed to lean back and throw in the last word. "And you silly girls think I don't know what amors advances are, do you?"

  Mrs. Dorling tugged, but William would not hear of it until he finished what he wanted to say. "Botheration! You think me an idiot? That means old Georgie's going to marry Mama!"

  Victoria jerked her head toward Aunt Phoebe, who in turn rolled her eyes and sank onto the green sofa behind her. Sarah threw her hand to her mouth in surprise.

  "Georgie?" Victoria choked out, taking a seat in the wing chair opposite her aunt. She pursed her lips, struggling to hide the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth.

  "Georgie?" Sarah squeaked as she took a seat beside Phoebe. "I had not realized it had progressed that far. The Duke perhaps, but Georgie?" She lifted her light brows in question.

  "I have no notion how that boy of mine knows everything that happens almost before I do."

  Victoria was caught off guard by her aunt's flustered expression. Along with Sarah, she waited for Phoebe to explain the situation.

  Phoebe's face paled and she clasped her hands together in frustration. "You see, George ... I mean His Grace, the Duke of Glenshire, is quite smitten with me. And yes, he did ask me to marry him. William must have heard me speaking with the duke at the Dower House where we were visiting the past few weeks. Percy Hall, you know. But I did not call him Georgie!"

  "Did I miss something on the trip?" Sarah asked. "Or did you just pronounce that His Grace asked you to marry him?"

  Phoebe's cheeks turned pink. "Yes, he did." She then turned to Victoria, as if it were every day a woman was asked to marry a duke. "Dearest, you were introduced to His Grace at the ball given by his mother about two months ago in Grosvenor Square. His sons were not in attendance, and you never met the Dowager Duchess because she fell ill. Of course, there was that one blond gentleman, I never knew his name, but he paid particular attention to you, did he not?"

  Victoria gave her aunt a noncommittal smile. Oh, yes, she remembered that night all too well. She had met Lord Nightham at that ball, but she had never put two and two together, until now. It had been such a large extravaganza, everyone in London seemed to have attended. Had the duke known Nightham well? The earl's death had already been reported in the papers, but would there be a scandal? And what about the pirate?

  She stared at Phoebe, her mind surveying her options. Perhaps this duke was the answer to her prayers, as long as that pirate, whoever he was, had not divulged information about Victoria being in the village when Nightham had died. But if anyone discovered her secret, it would be very probable that the duke would never marry Phoebe.

  Victoria knew she would not be able to trust the duke with her secrets, even if he loved Phoebe. And it wasn't fair to tell Phoebe either. Perhaps after the duke married her aunt, then Victoria could reveal her past, but not before. However, hiding her past would be all but impossible if that pirate showed his face.

  "His Grace and I have known each other since we were children." Phoebe stood and walked toward the hearth. "It seems that time has rekindled an old flame." She told them of a few innocent excursions the two had taken into the village, and well, they seemed to get along very nicely indeed.

  "And he wants to marry you, Aunt Phoebe?" Victoria asked, raising a brow toward Sarah.

  "I have yet to make up my mind," Phoebe said. "It's only been a couple of years since Henry died."

  Tears sprang to the older lady's eyes, and Victoria ached with an inner pain for the woman that had loved her like a mother. Though Uncle Henry had gambled away the family's money, he had loved them all.

  "What type of man is this duke?" Victoria asked.

  Phoebe cleared her throat and smiled. "Oh, quite handsome, and the duke's mother is a dear."

  "I do seem to recall a bit about him," Victoria said, smiling. He was tall and handsome and something else, but she could not quite put her finger on it. "I assume he is wealthy, but I have to ask. One never knows these days. Dukes can be voracious gamblers. Does he have the means to support you and the children?"

  "Children?" Sarah rose from her seat in indignation, her brows furrowed above her glaring eyes. "Good heavens. I am no longer a child, Victoria. I am eighteen, only three years younger than you."

  "Forgive me." A soft smile touched Victoria's lips as she continued her interrogation. "But this is of the utmost importance, Aunt Phoebe. I need to be certain that the man could care for you properly. Is he truly kind? Will he watch over you like a husband should?"

  Can you trust him?

  "Indeed," Sarah said with a determined look, taking her seat. "Will he be a good husband?"

  "Girls!" Phoebe's hand shot up in outrage. "Though I love you both dearly, I believe that I am old enough to make my own decision. I will be the one to determine if the man is worthy to be called my husband. I have no wish to hear another word on this subject." She stared at the two girls, waiting for a reply.

  They both nodded in grim embarrassment at their questions. With another warning glare, Phoebe strode across the Aubusson rug, her skirts rustling past the door.

  "We will be returning to the country next month. Elizabeth, I mean, Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess, has invited us. There will be a formal invitation coming soon."

  Phoebe glanced over her shoulder. "I will see you both at supper, and we will say no more about—"

  She was interrupted by a shrill shriek exploding from upstairs. Victoria and Sarah shot from their seats.

  Phoebe shook her head in dismay. "Nothing to worry about. William seems to be at it again. Depend upon it, he has brought some creature home for Mrs. Dorling. I truly thought I had checked every pocket on that boy, but goodness knows how many hiding places he has for those vexing little creatures."

  She shook her head once again and climbed the stairs, heading in the opposite direction of the screams.

  Half-giggling, half-grimacing, Victoria and Sarah scurried up the stairs toward William's chambers. As soon as they opened the door, a wave of rose scented bath water slapped them in the face.

  "Watch out there ye landlubbers," the boy yelled.

  William stood naked, except for the towel wrapped around his torso, which was slipping down his white little belly. One hand held the towel, the other pointed toward the ceiling. One pink foot was stationed on the floor, the other was planted on top of the exhausted Mrs. Dorling who was bent over on hands and knees.

  Yowling, William took a flying leap toward the bed. "There is treasure about, and I be the only pirate who will find it."

  Sarah took a firm step forward. "William Joseph, come here immediately."

  "Fear not, princess." His voice thundered across the room. "Your father, the king, has not come to save you. You best go below before my crew becomes restless."

  Victoria stalked across the wet floor. "For goodness sakes, William. You are quite impossible." She shot him a quick smile, which instantly made him retreat back a step.

  "Leave me alone, princess. I am your captain."

  Victoria grabbed hold of his arm. "But now you have become our prisoner, little pirate."

  Sarah came up beside them. "You will do as we say or you will walk the plank."

  Victoria chuckled when Mrs. Dorling threw her the boy's nightshirt and cap.

  William groaned. "This is not part of the game, Vicki." The shirt fle
w over his head, followed by a smacking kiss on the cheek by Victoria. "Yuck! I'm a pirate! Girls and landlubbers do not help pirates dress and they don't kiss them!"

  "Game or not little brother," Sarah added, buttoning his shirt and giving him another loud kiss. "It's time you go to bed and stop playing pirate. And next time, the boat goes outside."

  "Next time?" Mrs. Dorling's voice rang out, her expression weary. "Believe me, there will be no next time."

  At the dining table later that evening, Victoria noticed that the ornate silver candelabrum that usually sat in the center of the rosewood sideboard was missing. Her stomach coiled in dread as she glanced about the room, noting that a few other pieces were gone as well. More missing silver. How much time did they have left before they were put on the streets?

  "William needs a man," Sarah said in exasperation as she opened her white linen napkin and waited for Phoebe to join them. "But I declare, not any man will do. He needs a man who would make a good father. Every time I turn around that rapscallion is in some type of trouble. In the country, it was all Aunt and I could do to keep him civil. I shudder to think about visiting there again with him."

  Victoria recognized the concern in her cousin's eyes and felt the same herself. "What about this duke? You must have more information than his looks. Will he cast William out of the house to some school up north, far away from Phoebe?"

  "Oh, no. He is nothing like that. His Grace is fifty-years-old, and his wife died years ago. He has three sons. I met Anthony who's sixteen, and now away at school. I suspect the older two are just as handsome. Then there is the Dowager Duchess, the grandmother. Quite a nice lady, but you know, Victoria, I felt as though she could see straight through me, noting every one of my flaws, inside and out."

  Victoria blinked. Hopefully, her cousin was wrong.

  "But there is also the duke's granddaughter."

  "Granddaughter? Truly? How old is she?"

  "I will tell you how old, young lady." Phoebe stepped through the doors and took her seat at the head of the table. "The girl is four, and the child of the duke's eldest. The mother was killed in a tragic accident, leaving a grieving husband behind. Her carriage slipped off a cliff."