Marianne & the Marquis

by Anne Herries

  She smiled at him as she took her place at his side, listening and responding to the Vicar’s words, but truly aware only of the man at her side. In no time at all the Vicar had pronounced them man and wife and they were walking outside to the sound of joyful bells.

  ‘You look beautiful, my darling,’ Drew whispered as they were showered with rose petals and good wishes from the villagers who had gathered outside to press tokens and flowers on the bride. ‘I missed you.’

  ‘Did you?’ She looked into his eyes and her heart raced as she saw the smouldering passion. ‘I love you so much, Drew.’

  ‘Keep saying that to me,’ he whispered as he took her hand and they ran for the carriage. ‘Tell me it every day, for I shall never tire of hearing it.’

  ‘I will,’ she promised.

  When they were alone in the carriage he kissed her, tenderly at first and then with a deepening passion that made her body feel as if it would melt in the heat of their mutual desire.

  ‘I have some presents for your mama and sisters,’ he told her after he released her. ‘Also both your aunts and Wainwright. They should have been delivered by the time we get back. I hope they will like them.’

  ‘Oh, Drew,’ she said, her throat tight. ‘How good it is of you to think of them.’ He had already showered her with numerous gifts of jewellery, lace and costly trinkets, but to bring presents for her family was something that pleased her even more.

  ‘They are my family now,’ he said and something in his voice made her look at him.

  ‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘They are your family now.’ She could only guess at what that must mean to him.

  The reception was a small one by the standards of society, but Lady Edgeworthy’s house overflowed with happy guests. Drew’s elderly cousin had come and presented them both with generous gifts. He told Marianne of his pleasure in his cousin’s marriage and said that he hoped to visit them at Marlbeck one day.

  Marianne could not have been happier than to welcome him to their extended family, for Drew seemed at home amongst her sisters and aunts, and even Lady Wainwright was seen to smile on him with approval.

  ‘I never expected you to marry so well,’ she told Marianne and touched the magnificent diamond star brooch at her throat, which had been his gift to her. ‘Marlbeck is a generous man. I believe you have done well for yourself.’

  ‘I am in love with him, Aunt,’ Marianne told her serenely. ‘I married him for that reason alone.’

  ‘Well!’ Lady Wainwright looked slightly annoyed, but said no more as she sailed off in Lord Harcourt’s direction to harangue him about something the government had done, with which she heartily disagreed.

  The afternoon sped by and then Marianne was changing into her travelling gown, saying goodbye to her sisters and her mama, and accompanying Drew out to the coach that was waiting to take them on the first stage of their honeymoon. She gave him her hand and he helped her into the coach, watching her as she enthusiastically waved farewell to everyone who had come out to see her leave. When she could no longer see them, she turned to see the enigmatic look in his eyes and raised her brows.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I was just thinking how much my life has changed in a few short weeks. I had settled for second best and then you came and turned it all upside down.’

  ‘I am not sure what you mean?’

  ‘I was thinking of making a marriage of convenience simply to secure an heir for the title, but that all became lost when I kissed you. I knew that it had to be you or no one.’

  Marianne dimpled at him. ‘We shall be alone in Italy, Drew,’ she said. ‘My family are very possessive, but they will not be with us on our honeymoon.’

  ‘Oh, I do not resent them,’ Drew said. ‘I enjoy seeing you all together—and being part of your family. It is just that I feel I have somehow got caught up in a whirlwind.’

  Marianne saw that his eyes were filled with laughter. ‘Yes, I have a similar feeling,’ she confessed. ‘We have not known each other long, Drew. I hope you will not regret making me your wife.’

  ‘Oh, no, I shall not regret it,’ he said. ‘Not for one instant, I promise. There was a time when life seemed empty. I do not think it will feel that way in the future. But you never had the chance for a Season in town. I hope that one day you will not wish that you had waited.’

  ‘I shall never feel that way,’ Marianne promised him. ‘I love you, my dearest husband, and I always shall.’

  ‘And I think…’ Drew said, reaching out to draw her closer. His hand moved over the softness of her full breasts, caressing them gently through the thin silk of her gown, as he placed a kiss at the pulse spot just at the base of her throat. ‘I believe that this hunger, this tenderness, this aching need I feel whenever I see or touch you, must be this thing you call love.’

  ‘Yes, of course it is,’ Marianne said and lifted her face for his kiss. His finger smoothed the line where her dress dipped, showing the sweetness of her creamy flesh. She knew that he longed for the moment when they were alone in their bed, as she did. ‘What else could it be?’

  Gazing down into her eyes, seeing the innocence, the trust and belief reflected there, he knew that he would strive all his life to keep her faith in him as bright and shiny as it was on their wedding day.

  As their lips touched, she felt herself drowning in the overwhelming surge of love and need that united them as one. His kiss promised so much, and she knew that she would find her heaven in his arms that night.

  Later that night, as she lay pressed against him, limbs entwined, their hunger satiated for the moment, Marianne understood that she had been even luckier than she knew. He had loved her tenderly, sweetly, drawing her slowly along the path to the fulfilment of their mutual desire so that when he entered her the slight pain was as nothing and she was swept away on a tide of rising passion.

  ‘Nothing will ever part us now,’ he vowed. ‘I know that I have been fortunate beyond my deserts,’ Drew told her hoarsely as the desire rose hotly in him again. ‘I was alone, but now I have you and the world is no longer the empty place I thought it.’

  ‘I love you, Drew,’ she whispered. ‘I shall love you for all my life.’

  ‘And I love you,’ he said, accepting that it was true, for she had shown him the meaning of love and he knew that at last he could leave the loneliness of his past behind him.

  Afterword

  Marianne had gone and both sisters were already missing her. Lucy was sitting on the edge of Jo’s bed, listening as she read a page of her story aloud.

  ‘As Mary looked round the large comfortable parlour at the Vicarage, she knew that she had made the right choice,’ Jo read, a little frown creasing her brow. ‘Had she accepted the earl, she would now have been living in an empty, echoing house with no hope of finding any kind of fulfilment. At least as the wife of a good man like the Reverend Thornton she could look forward to filling her days with good works.’

  Jo laid the page down with a sigh and looked at her sister. ‘It isn’t very good, is it?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Lucy said truthfully. ‘I quite liked the earl—why didn’t you let her marry him instead?’

  ‘Because I thought it was too unlikely to be true,’ Jo said and laughed. ‘I wrote the story about a girl like us. I was thinking of Marianne, for I always believed that she would marry someone like Papa.’

  ‘Drew isn’t a bit like Papa,’ Lucy said and smiled. ‘In fact, I think he must be exactly opposite. But he is very nice. I like him and I think he will make Marianne happy, because he adores her.’

  ‘Yes, he does,’ Jo agreed. ‘You can see it in his eyes when he looks at her.’ She shook her head. ‘But he isn’t like most aristocrats—they are all so proud and they don’t care about people.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ Lucy asked. ‘You haven’t met very many. If you are speaking of Aunt Wainwright, then I must agree that she doesn’t care about anyone very much—but Aunt Bertha is so kind, and Uncle Wainwr
ight is really nice when you talk to him on his own.’ Lucy leaned forward to kiss her sister’s cheek. ‘I liked the earl. If you let Mary marry him instead of the Reverend, it would be much more exciting, don’t you think?’

  She smiled at Jo and left her in favour of her own bed, where, Jo imagined, she would curl up with one of her fairy stories. It was all very well for Lucy to say that Mary should have married the earl, and, indeed, Jo had developed a sneaking liking for him, despite the fact that he had done dreadful things and deserved to be cast into despair when he was spurned by the heroine—but life wasn’t all roses.

  Jo had seen so many cases of wives being cruelly treated by their husbands when she visited the village with her gifts of food and toys for the children. It had always seemed so unfair to her that the wealthy landowners should have so much while others had nothing. Her papa had been such a loving man, so kind and generous to others, though he had little to spare, and she had seen him as a hero, championing the cause of the poor.

  Lucy was right, though, Jo admitted as she blew out her candle and settled down to sleep. Marianne’s marquis was rather lovely, and she was glad that her sister was so happy.

  For herself, Jo thought that she would still rather remain unwed, though she wasn’t sure that her desire to become an author would come to anything. Her first story was certainly not the sweeping masterpiece she had hoped it might be.

  A sigh escaped her as she thought about the morning. It was her Aunt Wainwright’s intention to go straight to Bath from here. Lord Wainwright was to escort them there and stay one night, before returning home. He did not care much for taking the waters or insipid balls, as he called them, though he had given his niece twenty pounds for her pin money.

  ‘Don’t tell your aunt,’ he had told her with a wink. ‘Let her provide for you, Jo—but keep this in case you need it.’

  ‘Thank you, Uncle,’ Jo said and kissed his cheek. ‘I shall keep it for emergencies.’

  Having promised her aunt that she would go on this long-anticipated visit, Jo could not change her mind, even though she would have much preferred to stay here. Like Marianne, she enjoyed walking and it was lovely here, especially on the cliffs.

  Oh, well, the visit to Bath could not last for ever, and when it was over, she would be able to return here. Jo buried herself deep in the softness of her feather bed and closed her eyes. Before very long she was dreaming, and this time Mary had married the earl and Lucy was right—it was more exciting….

  IMPRINT: e-book HMB Series Specials

  ISBN: 9781460822159

  TITLE: MARIANNE AND THE MARQUIS

  First Australian Publication 2012

  Copyright © 2012 ANNE HERRIES

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilisation of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the permission of the publisher, Harlequin Mills & Boon®, Locked Bag 7002, Chatswood D.C. N.S.W., Australia 2067.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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