To Marry A Marquess (A Regency Romance)

by Teresa McCarthy

  "You're wrong."

  He turned to light a fire in the hearth. The rising flames illuminated the room. Before he knew what she was about, she came from behind and tossed the papers into the fire.

  Drake slipped his hands gently on her shoulders. "Victoria—"

  She jerked away, the rage still lingering in her eyes. "Don't touch me!"

  "I've heard those words before, and it never ceases to amaze me that you change your mind as quick as Beau Brummell changes cravats. But enough of this foolishness."

  Her eyes shot daggers at him. "You would not want to be caught in a compromising position, my lord. Or does everything seem all right, now that I am to inherit a good deal of money?"

  "You led me to believe you would marry me," he said softly. "This changes nothing."

  "I must have been daft."

  "No." His eyes found hers, and his heart turned over seeing the pain in her eyes. "I think not."

  She lifted her chin and started for the door.

  He stalked toward her. "Victoria, you will many me."

  She spun around. "Why? So you can do the honorable thing for your father and grandmother?"

  "No," he said calmly, quickly slipping an arm around her waist. "This is why." Her eyes grew round, but she didn't pull away from him. He leaned forward and lowered his mouth to hers.

  "So, I see ye have found her!"

  Drake groaned. "William?"

  "I told ye she was crying." William sliced his sword through the air, parting the two. "It was the villain again."

  Drake glared at Victoria as the image of Wendover came to mind. Her nearness had taken his breath away ... and his brain. "Yes, what are you hiding, Victoria?"

  The lines around her face tensed. "I should have asked you the same question earlier, my lord."

  "I am speaking of the villain," Drake said with an edge to his voice.

  "Oh, have you looked in the mirror lately?"

  "Are you addressing me, madam?"

  "You?" she said sarcastically.

  Oblivious to the tension between the two, William began swinging his sword ferociously about the room. "That villain wants the treasure! I know it!"

  "Come to think of it," Drake replied, "I believe William may be right. The villain wants something."

  William grinned and planted himself next to Drake.

  Drake glanced back at Victoria waiting for her explanation. "Could it be your money? Why don't you tell us about Wendover. I saw those marks on your neck the other day."

  "Marks?" William let out a cry of outrage. "Marks? What marks, Vicki?"

  "It's nothing, William." Victoria glowered at Drake.

  The boy stepped back to show her his sword. "Did he hurt you, Vicki? 'Cause if he did, I'll tear him to shreds."

  The weapon went flying through the air as William danced about the room. "I'll slice him in two."

  Drake hopped back a step as William took a flying leap and jumped on top of the desk. "I'll make mincemeat out of him. Why, the next time I see him, I'll take his neck and—"

  "William!" Victoria cried. "Stop it at once!"

  The sword came to a halt, clattering to the floor. "Awwww, Vicki."

  Drake hid his smile. "Off to bed with you. Tomorrow we will talk more about pirates and villains."

  William jumped off the desk. "Truly?"

  "Truly." Drake patted his head to move him along.

  "Did you hear that, Vicki?"

  Victoria smiled. "Yes, and William?"

  "Huh?"

  "You forgot this." She held up his sword.

  "Oh!" He chuckled and retrieved his weapon. "One cannot be without a sword when Wendover is about. He scares the bloomin'—"

  "William!" Victoria took a step toward him.

  The boy glanced mischievously up at Drake before he started for the library doors. "Never mind."

  Her lips grimly set, Victoria slipped her hand into the boy's and started for the doors. "I'll see that you make it to bed, young man."

  William looked over his shoulder at Drake. "The princess is leaving with me because she likes kissing me better than you."

  Drake lifted a brow. "I daresay, I'll have to remedy that situation very soon then."

  But to Drake's astonishment it was not William who snorted with disgust, but Victoria.

  Chapter Fifteen

  "Lady Victoria's birthday party will be a wonderful surprise for her tonight," Stanby said, turning toward Mrs. Dorling outside the Percy Hall drawing room.

  The older lady had arrived the previous day to care for William, as the boy seemed to be a handful to all involved.

  "Is everything underway?" she asked the hovering giant.

  Stanby smiled. "His lordship is going to ask for a waltz."

  "A waltz!" Mrs. Dorling clasped her hands together in delight. "My, Lord Drakefield is a rather sly one, is he not?" Her eyes twinkled with mirth.

  "I would say he is more like his father than any of the other sons," Stanby replied with pride.

  Mrs. Dorling raised an inquisitive brow and Stanby winked.

  "When they see what they want, they don't give up," he said suggestively.

  "Oh, my." Mrs. Dorling's cheeks turned pink with giddiness as she brought her hands to her face. "Truly?"

  "Indeed." Stanby took a step closer. "And it seems that same quality has rubbed off a bit on me." He hovered over the small woman and set his hands on her shoulders.

  Mrs. Dorling giggled. She had been a widow for twenty years. "Oh, my, Stanby. You are …quite wicked."

  The giant man took her hand and slowly led her into the drawing room. Hiding behind the doors, he picked her off her feet and fastened his lips to hers. "Ah, my love, where have you been all my life?"

  "Oh, Stanby. You are so very strong." He kissed her again.

  William popped out from behind the sofa. "Oh, Stanby," he mimicked in a high-pitched voice. "You are so very strong."

  "Zeus!" Stanby cried.

  "What is all this?" the boy said in disgust. "I tell you, a pirate's life is a life without peace! Does everybody have the kissing bug?"

  Stanby lowered the woman in his hands, his gaze penetrating William's face like an English cannonball directed at Napoleon's nose. The little boy gulped. Mrs. Dorling turned beet red and flew out of the room, flapping a hand to her large bosom as if she could not breathe. "Oh, my, my, my."

  Stanby took in a deep breath, gritting his teeth as he spoke. "Pirate's life, indeed!"

  "Worry not, old boy," William replied coolly, his hand flicking in the air as if he were twenty instead of six. "I won't say a thing. No one believes what I say anyway. Villains and treasures. Everyone thinks I make it all up."

  He walked out of the room with a mute Margueretta trailing behind him, her owl-like eyes growing wider.

  Stanby clenched his teeth in frustration. "Indeed!"

  "Did you say something, Stanby?" Drake appeared in the hall, his expression blank as he took in his butler’s face which seemed rather flushed. "Are you ill?"

  "Not ill, my lord. I am ready to drown a discourteous imp."

  "A what?"

  "I said, I am steady, but frown at my discourteous limp."

  Drake watched Stanby sweep out of the room and down the hall. Why, the man was not limping at all!

  Later that day, Drake rode his horse back to the stables and turned toward his groom. "Parks, did I see my grandmother's carriage heading over the road?"

  "I believe so, my lord."

  As he dismounted, Drake shook his head, thinking that perhaps one of the guests for the party needed to return to London. Yet he was surprised that they had not used their own carriage or his father's coach for the drive. The birthday party was a surprise for Victoria, and the guests were staying in either the village or the duke's home. It was probably one of his grandmother's friends.

  "William, what are you doing?" Drake noticed the boy's frown as he stood outside the stable, throwing sticks at the ground.

  The boy l
ooked up. "Nothing."

  "Nothing? Somehow, I believe you are only telling me a half-truth."

  William kicked a pebble. "Botheration! At least you listen sometimes. I will tell you because you are a brother pirate."

  It took every bit of effort for Drake to keep a straight face. "And we pirates stick together?"

  William nodded and took a confident step forward. "Well then, you can see how things be, matie. Tonight is Vicki's birthday party, but if you're still planning to have it, you might want to know about her surprise, too."

  "Drake, a word with you!" James came striding toward them.

  Drake patted William's head. "Go on and play, lad."

  "But I have important information about the princess."

  "Tell me later."

  "Never," William said as he stomped ahead of them. "Never. Never. Never."

  Drake turned to James. "What's so important?"

  "The subject concerns Wendover and it's not pretty."

  "What?"

  "Fox has discovered the man owes a great sum from White's betting books. The handsome earl may make the ladies swoon, but the man is not allowed inside the club until he pays up."

  Drake watched William hurry away. What the devil was the boy so fired up about? "I know about his debts."

  "You do?"

  "Yes. But I don't know where he is. At least he won't be at the party tonight. I was hoping to comer him in the library." And pummel his brains.

  James frowned. "There's something you are not telling me.

  Drake looked off in the distance. "Wilkins was here."

  "And?"

  "He had surprising information about Victoria that I believe Wendover may have had an interest in."

  Drake gave his brother the details of the findings and James looked back, stunned.

  "So you're telling me that Lady Victoria is eighty thousand pounds richer as of today and our dear departed Nightham was a crook. And now Wendover wants her money, too?"

  Drake's jaw went rigid with rage as he thought about the information Wilkins sent him yesterday. "I believe so. In addition, Wilkins informed me by letter that Wendover has had two previous heiresses for wives who died under mysterious circumstances."

  "And the man suddenly popped back into Victoria's life," James said grimly. "Devious man."

  "Not only does he have debts at White's, but he's been spending time in Brighton and Bath trying to swindle many a wealthy gentleman. Seems his luck keeps running out. My guess is while in a drunken stupor he might have said something to Nightham about Victoria or the other way around. Somehow they both discovered her trust before she did."

  Drake recalled the pain in Victoria's eyes and felt a stab of guilt. "Confound it, James. I'd like to strangle them both if I could."

  "By Jove, Fox was right after all. You love her!"

  Drake stiffened. "Love has nothing to do with it."

  "But of course you love her. She is nothing like Honoria."

  "Now, you're beginning to sound like our grandmother."

  James grinned. "The lady has you coiled and twisted like one of those curls hanging from her head."

  "If you wish to live out the day, James, make your way back to the house. Now!"

  James scooted back a step, his eyes sparkling. "Ah, I shall depart and leave you to your daydreams. Adieu, Romeo."

  After his talk with James, Drake walked into Percy Hall, knowing his feeling for Victoria was more than the boyish crush he had felt for Honoria. But love her?

  She was different from most of the beauties he knew in the ton. Victoria cared for others more than herself. She was devoted to her family. She had qualities hard to find in London Society where appearance and money were the world.

  Moreover, Drake knew Victoria was not immune to his touch. The birthday party this evening would be just the thing to prepare her for his announcement of their engagement. Though she had avoided him the past two days, he hoped her temper had cooled enough for her to at least have a dance with him. However, he had a few last minute details to work out with his grandmother.

  "Drake!" William called from the floor below him. "I have to talk to you! Pirate to pirate!"

  "Not now, William."

  "But—"

  "William, I distinctly said, not now."

  "Humph!" The small boy sat on the bottom step and took out his second in command. "They never listen to me, Whitie. Never. At the party tonight, I'll show them all."

  Sparkling chandeliers shimmered upon the dance floor. The orchestra played a sweet concerto as Drake strolled into the ballroom holding a glass of wine in his hands. It would be at least an hour before the guests appeared.

  "Drake," Sarah said, stopping him. "Have you seen Victoria?"

  "No, I was rather hoping she would be with you."

  Sarah lifted her shoulders and laughed. "Oh, I imagine she's still getting dressed. Aunt Phoebe told her yesterday that we were having a little party tonight with a few close friends. I have tried to avoid her for the past few days in fear I might tell her about our little surprise. There’s not much we don't confide in each other."

  "Nothing?" Drake lifted his brow. How interesting? He wondered if Victoria had mentioned anything about the inn.

  Sarah's eyes twinkled. "Almost nothing."

  They suddenly directed their gazes toward William, dressed in a dark blue jacket and pants, standing behind the damask curtains at the end of the room.

  "The boy looks rather uncomfortable in his outfit," Drake said, a smile on his lips.

  "William wished Victoria a happy birthday," Sarah said with a chuckle. "But he almost told her everything before I had to wrap my hand around his mouth and drag him from her bedchamber. She has been sleeping all afternoon and she gave the maid the evening off to celebrate her birthday. I suspect she's having to use your grandmother's abigail this evening."

  "Do I dare ask you to excuse yourself and deliver her as soon as possible? I believe we should inform her who the guest of honor is before the guests arrive."

  Sarah's blue eyes twinkled. "Of course, I was meaning to leave and check on her. I should be but a minute."

  Five minutes later, Drake noted Sarah's return to the ballroom. She seemed distraught as she made a direct line to her aunt. He could not help but feel a faint twinge of foreboding.

  "Gone! Mercy me, I cannot believe it," Phoebe replied, swaying precariously toward Sarah.

  The duke immediately grabbed the older lady's elbow and escorted her to the nearest chair.

  "Is something amiss?" Drake demanded, making his way across the room.

  The duke turned, a frown settling across his face. "It seems Lady Victoria had business in London. She has left the premises."

  "Left the premises?" His voice rose above the music.

  Sarah dabbed a handkerchief to her wet face. "She left us this letter."

  "It is inconceivable that Victoria left by herself," Phoebe wailed. "Oh, to leave without a maid. What is to become of her? George, the danger that one comes across with highwaymen and such. A lady alone out there. Why on earth would she leave us?"

  The lady looked up at Drake as if he were the reason Victoria flew from the bosom of her family.

  The duke's raised brow suggested the same.

  Drake clenched his teeth and snatched the letter from Sarah's shaking hands. Danger, indeed. It was more likely danger from him than anyone else.

  Dear Aunt Phoebe,

  Please forgive me for my hasty departure, but I must leave for London. I cannot tell you my reasons. However, by now you must know that I have a trust worth 80,000 pounds, so you need not worry about my situation. I hope that I will return to you as soon as possible. Please do not seek me out. I am staying with a friend. I love you all, and tell Sarah and William not to worry.

  Your loving niece,

  Victoria

  "Not to worry," Drake mumbled sarcastically. He crumpled the paper in his hands. Why the blazes did she leave? Was she afraid of him? Had he been so
callous that she could not stay near him? Or had it something to do with Wendover? Bewilderment yielded quickly to a white-hot fury.

  "I tried to tell you!" William's voice blasted through the orchestra's melody. "But noooooo, you would not listen to me." The boy held his chin high and began to walk out of the ballroom.

  Drake grabbed the back of William's coat, dragging the boy backward. "What do you mean you tried to tell us?"

  "I tried to tell you that she was in trouble, but you ignored me. Remember?" His eyes welled with tears.

  Drake recalled the child's constant interruptions earlier that day. Guilt sank into his belly like a cold, hard ball. What kind of man was he that he couldn't listen to a six-year-old boy? Or that a woman would flee his side because she was afraid of him? What terrible thing was she hiding that she couldn't trust him?

  The women in London adored him. He was a prize on the marriage mart. Mamas of eligible misses scurried his way like dogs to a bone just for a word with him. But one lady was not impressed. Was it his pride that was hurt? Or did he hurt because he loved her? Or blast it all, was it the combination of the two?

  Chapter Sixteen

  When Victoria arrived in the West End of London at Nightham Manor, she was led to the drawing room by a lanky butler named Booster. Taking a seat on the worn sofa, she gazed nervously about the dimly lit room. The sparse candlelight confirmed her thoughts. Nightham and his family had been in desperate straits. Charles must have used everything he had, leaving his mother with nothing.

  Victoria's heart turned as she thought about the destitute lady being pushed onto the streets by Nightham's heir. She knew very well what that felt like.

  Anger began to build inside her at Nightham's treatment of his mother. But she intended to remedy that. She would use her inheritance to help the lady. Though she knew her marriage to Nightham was still unclear, she desperately hoped the countess would let her stay at Nightham Manor until her marital status and Wendover’s threats were resolved.

  She dare not return to the family townhouse. The danger of Lord Wendover returning was too great. She knew her family was probably devastated at her quick departure, and the thought of how the marquess would receive the news pressed heavily upon her conscience. Pride would force Lord Drakefield to look for her, for it certainly wouldn't be love.