"The devil you say?" Stunned, George inadvertently tipped his hot tea onto his waistcoat and sprung from his seat. "In her bedchambers? In her nightdress and my son clad only in a pair of blasted breeches?"
He wiped his forehead with his hand, then lowered his voice. "Barechested and all?"
The dowager duchess feigned a small frown. "Victoria?"
"Not at all! I mean Drake! Pray, do not jest with me."
The dowager smiled to herself. George was getting upset. A very good sign, indeed. All in all, she thought her son was even more proper and stuffy than her dear departed husband, bless his soul. "Jonathan had his shirt on, but just barely."
George cleared his throat. "And William saw all this?"
The duchess nodded, delighted that her plan was working.
"Confound it, Mother! What will I do? The escapade with Nightham can be hushed. Of course, I will tell Phoebe all about it after we are married. I imagine Victoria discovered the dire straits her aunt was in and was only trying to help. But I don't know why Nightham would want a secret wedding."
"Well, George, I never liked him. The man was a sneaky little twit. And I am sure he had something up his sleeve with Victoria, too."
The duke halted. "You are speaking of a dead man, Mother. Have you no shame?"
"Fudge!" She shrugged, not at all about to apologize.
He began to pace the room, his hand whipping through his hair in agitation. "But then again, Phoebe is a delicate woman. Her constitution might not be able to handle a scandal with her niece. Yes, yes, I will tell her after we are married, of course. But this incident with little William as eyewitness ..."
He shook his head. "I will have to insist on a marriage immediately. Though I believe it was innocent enough, Drake will have to see the right of it."
He turned to her and wiped a hand across his forehead again. "I hate to say it. Mother, but your servants spread gossip like wildfire. This little incident will hit everyone's ears within a week. It cannot possibly be kept quiet like the incident at the inn."
Her gray eyes sparkled with triumph. "I thought you would see it my way, George, and now, it is up to you to see that this marriage is carried out."
"I don't have to tell you that my son is a stubborn mule when it comes to marriage and the like."
"No, but you are a duke, my dear. You can do anything." The dowager lifted the cup to her lips. It was working magnificently! Her heart did a little dance. In no time, she would see a bunch of great grandbabies crawling about the place and filling her life with joy.
"Dash it all, Mother. This is such a disagreeable mess, it will take nothing more than a miracle to fix it."
Drake's legs ate up the drawing room floor in large angry sweeps as he paced the room. "I cannot believe you are demanding that I marry her. It was an innocent encounter. That is all."
"I am only asking that you think about it," his father replied sternly. "Phoebe knows nothing of this."
The doors opened and then banged closed as the dowager duchess joined the meeting.
"Grandmother." Drake spun around. "So happy you could join us for this momentous occasion."
Her gray eyes locked with his. "Jonathan, I do believe I know what is best for you."
A strangled laugh erupted from his mouth. "Best for me?"
Drake picked up a crystal decanter full of brandy, pouring the amber liquid into a nearby glass. It was not even noon. He usually never drank in the early hours, but it seemed that he had been doing more of everything lately since a certain female came into his life. He had no notion what time it was either. Where was that blasted pocket watch?
The drink did little to settle the bitterness stuck in his throat. He strolled near the fire and threw his glass into the flames, causing tiny glass fragments to spit about the hearth.
He twisted around, his jaw taut. "I have no wish to have another marriage like I had with Honoria."
"Drake, be reasonable," the duke said, frowning. "Victoria will be ruined. Once the word spreads that you were seen in her bedchambers last night, holding her in a tight embrace, she will never be able to stand in Society again."
The duke glanced at his mother, then shifted his gaze back to Drake. "You can only imagine what people will say. You were half-naked."
"Hell's teeth, Father! I have no care what people will say! And I was clothed."
"Barely," his grandmother whispered as her skirts rustled against the rosewood end table. "You might not care, but Victoria would. No decent man will have her if a scandal broke."
Drake felt the blood rushing to his head. "Can you not see that she planned this entire incident?"
"I am certain that is not true," his grandmother replied.
"But she has nothing. She wants to marry wealth and I will not be her pawn." The words fell from Drake's mouth before he could stop them. He caught sight of the slightly opened door and strode across the room, slamming the door shut.
"Come now, son." The duke patted his shoulder. "Phoebe is without funds, and I am going to marry her. But tell me, do you really believe that nonsense about Victoria making you her pawn? William carries those creatures with him all the time. He is the one who planned this."
"No one heard about last night except William and Grandmother." Drake was determined to stand firm. "I don't recall observing any servants about. Did you?" he asked his grandmother.
The lady's gray eyes widened with indignation. "Indeed not. My servants are most discreet."
"Discreet?" he replied with a snort. Her servants were about as discreet as a howling dog in the middle of a church service. "That does not answer my question."
Was no one going to defend him in this? Would he be forced to marry the girl? "I repeat, I saw no servants."
"That is true, Mother," the duke replied, turning toward her. "If no one saw or heard what happened last night, then there may not be a problem. Yes, the more I think about it, the more I realize I should speak to William about this. Discreetly, that is. The boy will have to understand this type of thing sooner or later. And it seemed innocent enough." He cleared his throat. "I cannot have Phoebe upset right now."
The dowager tightened her lips into a grim line. "If no one else knows besides Victoria and William, then you, of course, are correct in the fact that we have nothing to worry about. As long as it does not have a lasting imprint on the boy."
Drake breathed a sigh of relief. Lasting imprint? The only lasting imprint on that boy would be a good whack on the behind.
"But if there is one breath of scandal, it would be your duty to marry her, Jonathan."
Drake stiffened at his grandmother's comment.
"Drake," the duke added, "I fear, if the word is out, then you will have to do the right thing. You must think of everyone that will be affected by such gossip."
Drake stuffed a hand into his pocket. "I truly don't think the word is out. And if it is, then I will have to bow to your will and marry the woman."
"Indeed," the dowager said, "then all is settled." She hurried to the doors to retreat. "If there is any scandal at all, I have your word that you will many Victoria. Am I correct?"
"You have my word," Drake replied coolly.
However, the more he thought about it, the more he surmised that no one else had seen them. He was certain of it. And he had no desire to be forced into marriage. Choosing was one thing, forcing was quite another. And maybe Victoria's gentleness was indeed a ploy to lure him into her web. He had been wrong before.
"Very well," his grandmother replied and slipped past the threshold. "These doors need oiling, George. Would you see to that for me? I have other business to attend to."
Drake could only stare in awe at the quick way in which his grandmother had left the room, easily changing the subject from marriage to a squeaking door. Frustrated, he flipped his hand through his hair. "Hell's bells!" What a family!
The dowager duchess did a little dance down the hall, heading for the kitchen. There, she would find Cook
and any other servants who happened to be around. She would pour out her heart and soul about the sordid details of the events in Victoria's room the previous night. And though it was not considered appropriate for the lady of the house to consort with the servants, she had been doing things out of the ordinary for a lady in her station ever since she had entered into the duke's family.
She would see her eldest grandson happy, even if he hated her for a bit. Oh, maybe for a long while. But by tomorrow, every servant would know that Drake had been in Lady Victoria's bedchambers in the middle of the night. Bare-chested! It wouldn't be terrible, just compromising. By the time it reached London, they would be married, and no one would pay any attention to it.
Oh, the blessings of it all!
After her dreadful encounter with Lord Wendover, Victoria tried to compose herself as she slipped inside Percy Hall. She wiped her tear-blotched face with the back of her hand the best she could, all the time wondering if she could make it up the stairs without anyone seeing her. But upon her ascent, she overheard the conversation in the drawing room and stopped when Drake's angry voice reached her ears.
"Can you not see that she planned this entire incident?"
She?
Victoria bit her lip. Was he talking about her?
"I am certain that is not true," the duchess replied.
"But she has nothing! She wants to marry wealth and I will not be her pawn."
Victoria's heart plummeted to the floor. With a sob in her throat, she blindly groped for the banister and hurried to her bedchamber.
Three hours later, Drake found himself seated in his grandmother's library, wondering if there was a chance that Lady Victoria was as innocent as she seemed. Mayhap Nightham had found a sweet rose within those thorns. But why had they tried to marry by special license in a private ceremony away from home? Was it because her aunt would never have allowed it? Or was Victoria taking her family's entire responsibility upon her shoulders and marrying Nightham for their security?
His heart told him yes. The lady loved her family so much that she would have done anything in her power to see them properly cared for. The thought had previously occurred to him, but he had refused to examine it too closely. He wanted to throw her into the same category as Honoria. But Victoria was more than a pretty face. She adored William, the pest that he was. And she loved her aunt and Sarah to overflowing. She even adored his daughter. Honoria had loved no one but herself.
He frowned, tapping his finger on the desk. He wondered if she had loved Nightham with the same devotion. That thought didn't set well at all, because, confound it, he was feeling something for that woman, too.
There was a loud thump in the hall and he looked up. Probably William, he thought with a scowl. He ignored the noise and flicked open his pocket watch that he had finally found on the floor beside his bed. Somehow, it had fallen out of its stand.
Three o'clock. He flicked the timepiece closed and stared at the ink well on the corner of the desk. The letter he had sent to his solicitor might prove helpful. Wilkins always seemed to unearth the most trivial details about any matter, and now it seemed that Drake needed to know a little more about Nightham and Victoria. Perhaps all the pieces of the puzzle would finally fit together, and he would have some answers. It was obvious Victoria was not about to speak to him about it. Whether it was because her heart was broken or she was grieving, he knew not.
"I care not a wit if he wants his peace at the moment, Miles!"
Drake jerked his feet off the desk as Lord Foxcroft flung open the library doors, pushing past the dowager's butler.
"Stand up!" Fox demanded, stalking toward him.
"Something wrong?" Drake's eyes narrowed as he twirled an ivory letter opener in his hand.
"I said, stand up you scoundrel!" Fox drew a fist.
Drake set the opener down, his instincts rising into full alert. "And what brings you to visit at this humble hour?"
"This is not a visit." The viscount raised his clenched hand in the air.
"Oh, out with it man." Drake slowly rose. "The suspense is killing me."
Icy contempt filled Fox's gaze. "You know my reason for coming."
"I do?"
Fox rounded the desk. "I am speaking of Lady Victoria."
Drake pursed his lips. Ah, he should have known the very reason when Fox broke into the room. Order was not one of Lady Victoria's fine points, whether she was around or not.
Drake's head suddenly snapped back at the sound of knuckles slicing skin. Though Fox barely cuffed him, the attack was a surprise. "What the devil is the matter with you?"
"With me?" Fox leered at him.
Drake exercised his jaw. "Try that again and you might not be able to stand for a week!"
"We will see about that."
Stunned, Drake could not believe the furor in Fox's eyes. "What the hell is the matter with you?"
"How could you not marry her?"
"Ah," Drake rubbed his face, finally seeing the light. So word had traveled fast about his after midnight rendezvous. "What did you hear?"
"Enough! Blast it, Drake! I heard enough!"
Drake sat back in his leather chair. "It was totally innocent, but then again, I don't have to explain my actions to you or anybody."
"I don't care if it was innocent or not! You compromised a lady!"
Drake stiffened. "You're daft."
"I warn you, Drake, a man can handle only so much, even if it is from his best friend."
"And what exactly do you mean by that?"
"I mean exactly what I say. I'm willing to marry her as soon as possible. I can obtain a special license at the snap of my fingers. The gossip will die down soon enough."
Drake clenched his hands at his side. How could Fox believe for one minute that he. Fox, was going to many Victoria? "You are willing? Well, my friend, no wish to put you out!"
"I don't see you offering for her hand. And the way I see it, you don't want her. I, in turn, have wanted her from the first time I saw her. She needs a man that will provide for her and protect her. I am a viscount. She will have everything she needs by marrying me."
There was a dangerous edge to Fox's voice that Drake had never heard before. But whether Drake liked it or not, he had wanted Victoria the first time he had seen her, too. But now, the yearning went much deeper than that. He knew the heart that lay within the beautiful lady, and he wanted her more than ever. He would not let Fox or any other man place one possessive finger on her.
"Glad you see things my way. I will go for the special license today." Fox turned.
"The devil you will!"
"Aha!" Fox spun around and sank into a nearby wing chair, folding his arms across his chest in a militant pose. "I was correct in the fact that you wanted her for yourself. Fine then. I suggest that we leave the decision up to the lady."
Drake scowled, knowing that at the moment he was not certain Victoria would want him. "Who else knows about last night?"
"Who?" Fox asked sarcastically.
He shot from the chair, his arms going wide. "Dash it! Everybody knows! And if we don't act swiftly, she will be shunned from the ton permanently. No one will call on her or her family. And need I remind you that your father is going to marry her aunt. Do you know the effect a scandal will have on your family? I have no wish to even think about it!"
"Enough," Drake snapped.
"I can see your hesitancy, Drake. Honoria soured your taste for marriage a long time ago. But let me tell you, any man would be lucky to have Victoria as his wife. I, for one, am going to try. I care not if she has a dowry. Not like you. You cannot forget your wife and her poor beginnings. In fact, as I seem to recall, I thought you vowed never to marry a pauper again. To put it in your own words, another poor woman might steal you blind. Besides, it would be best for all if Victoria married me."
"You listen, friend, and listen well." Drake's voice was cold and calculating. "I will make her my wife. And I will be obtaining the special license
, not you. We will be married as soon as possible. Here, at Percy Hall."
Fox shrugged, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets. "Do as you wish. We will see who wins the prize."
"Prize!" The voice boomed into the room before they knew what happened.
Fox paled.
Drake spun around, his heart stopping. "Victoria?"
Chapter Twelve
Victoria marched into the library, closing the doors behind her as her blue gown swirled angrily about her ankles.
She glared at the two men. "I have no wish to have the entire household know everything about my life. But since those doors were open the entire time you two were deciding about my future, there is not much that the servants don't know about me already. Is there?"
"But—"
Both men tried to speak at once. She cut them off, eyeing them as if they were ants about her feet.
"I cannot believe you two, throwing my name about like a billiard ball." She slapped a finger to her heaving chest. "I will decide whom I will marry. When I will marry. And where I will marry." Her fist hit the desk with a thump. "And, it will not be either of you two fops!"
The marquess edged himself onto the corner of the desk. "I beg to differ."
Victoria seethed. "What did you say?"
"I said I beg to differ."
Fox cleared his throat. "Drake, I don't believe this is the time to—"
"See here." The marquess unfolded his body off the desk and grabbed Fox by the elbow, directing him toward the doors. "It seems to me there are too many people discussing
this delicate matter."
"Too many people! By Jove, Drake, you're mad."
The marquess's eyes gave off a dangerous glint, and Victoria realized she had treaded into unsafe territory. She started inching herself toward the door, two steps behind the viscount.
Lord Drakefield opened the doors to the hall, blocking her passage. "Secure this into your thick head, Fox. Three's a crowd." He pushed the viscount over the threshold, slammed the doors shut, and turned the key in the lock.
To Marry A Marquess (A Regency Romance) Page 12