The Marquis’ Mistake
Book 2 of the Charrington series
Giselle Marks
©Giselle Marks 2016
Acknowledgements
Artwork and layout by Sarah Waldock
Author bio Giselle Marks
Giselle Marks is an English writer, poet and novelist, born in London, who has been writing most of her life. Currently Giselle lives in the beautiful Isle of Man. Her family is grown, contented and expanding. She spends most of her time writing.
Her historical romances ‘The Fencing Master’s Daughter’ and ‘The Purchased Peer’ have been receiving good reviews. Together with her fellow writer and cover artist Sarah J. Waldock, Giselle wrote and illustrated ‘Fae Tales’ an anthology of fae and mythic tales updated to modern times and intended for teenagers and adults. All three books are available. The ‘Princess of Zenina,’ is the first in the sci-fi / fantasy Zeninan Saga and is recently published. She has also completed another Regency romance, ‘A Compromised Rake’ and the first of a Regency gypsy series, ‘Jessica’s Tale – Book One, The Gypsy Countess series,’ although she is considering alternate titles. She is currently two thirds through an episodic fantasy book which may become a series, which is currently named ‘Wishing Well Cottage.’
Other long- term projects include a possible book of her poetry. Her poems have been published in Female First and she has entered two of their contests, scoring a win and a commendation. Within the Isle of Man her poetry has been included in the local Lit Fest poetry trail and in ’Manx Reflections’ a local poetry anthology. Giselle has had short stories published in a number of anthologies.
@GiselleMarks1
http://ginafiserova.wix.com/gisellemarks
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7304857.Giselle_Marks
The Marquis’ Mistake
By Giselle Marks
Chapter One – June 1814
The hotel was silent as Alicia Lambert awoke. The snores of her maid Sally, echoed contentedly through the room. She could hear no other movement. Her stomach cramped sharply. What little food Alicia had managed to snatch during that day’s journey was severely disagreeing with her. Travel from Staffordshire closely confined in a sweltering stuffy Mail-coach had been hideous. On arrival at Cambridge in late afternoon they were utterly exhausted, having travelled since before dawn. The coach finally rattled into the post house, to find every room already taken.
Several hours later they wearily located a hotel with a single vacant room. Alicia’s decision to flee to her aunt, Lady Maud, in Aylesbury had been sudden. The speed and secrecy of their departure allowed no opportunity to reserve rooms. Without fore-knowledge of a racing meeting held that day in Newmarket, they had not expected the town to be full, as the colleges were in summer recess. Visitors to the races had preferred to stay in Cambridge’s rowdier hostelries than in the Quaker influenced Newmarket.
Alicia was relieved when they were finally respectfully shown by a young maid to a small but slightly musty chamber on the first floor. The maid servant had set up a truckle bed for Sally and lit a fire to warm the chill from their bones. The weather was unusually cold for the month of June.
At least it had not rained. Their coach driver insisted they had made good time, although it had seemed interminable. Falling asleep in the inn had been difficult as a riotous party was continuing downstairs. Raucous laughing and drunken revelry below unsettled her. Now in the dark of the night the hotel was quiet and Alicia hoped its denizens were sleeping off their excesses and had succumbed to their potations. Reluctantly Alicia climbed from the high bed and lit a candle. Finding her half boots she buttoned them and threw her pelisse over her night rail. She crept out of the room to seek the necessary situated in the yard at the rear of the hotel.
Returning through the darkened back corridors of the hotel she mistakenly turned left instead of right towards her room. A small man in dark livery ushered her to a room.
“This way, ma’am,” he said bowing her into a room. Alicia was pleased to find her room, and thought absently the little man’s manners were far more polished than she expected in a provincial town’s hotel servant.
Sebastian Vernon, Marquis of Farndon following the death of his much loved brother Peter was awake and expecting company. The night before, he had met up with his former school friend, Stephen, Lord McKinlay at Brooks. His plans had been to drive to his father’s country seat on the following day. It had taken Lord Stephen little persuasion to slightly divert his friend to attend the races and to stay overnight in Cambridge, where they had both studied.
Sebastian and Stephen enjoyed the day together watching the races and came away with plumper pockets. Accompanied by a group of likeminded spirits they had celebrated their good fortune and Sebastian’s thirtieth birthday in Cambridge. Sebastian looked much younger than his thirty years.
The birthday party had broken up late with their comrades staggering off to seek their own beds, Sebastian used to drinking in diplomatic circles had remained relatively sober. He had remarked to Lord Stephen when they were alone.
“The only thing missing from this evening had been female company to season the dish,” he immediately regretted the remark.
“Of course, you’ve been travelling for some time and at the Foreign Office. You must be missing female company. I’ll arrange for a local girl to be sent up.”
“Please don’t bother, that is really not necessary, Stephen. I am quite capable of finding myself a woman if I want one,” he demurred, but Lord Stephen was having none of it.
“There’s a local girl who is rather special, she’s bound to warm even your jaded tastes. I’ll send her over as a birthday present, Seb.”
Sebastian protested, but knew when Lord Stephen was in his cups there was no persuading him to change his mind. After bathing he donned a chocolate coloured silk banyan to await the lady with foreboding. Prescott, Sebastian’s valet had been sent downstairs to look out for the woman’s arrival and as Alicia became disoriented seeking her room, had ushered her into his Lord’s lair, shutting the door behind her.
The Marquis was seated drinking a glass of claret. He had been drinking for some hours and was beginning to feel the effects. Entering the room, Alicia discovered a devastatingly handsome tall blond man, with smiling deep brown eyes wearing only a silk banyan. Sebastian saw a tiny woman with sparkling green eyes and a waterfall of silky waist-length hair. Liking what he saw, he put down his glass and welcomed the lady. Stepping forward he took her in his arms, kissing her passionately while his hands explored her body. Dumbfounded to find a young man in what she had presumed was her room, Alicia began to respond to his practised kisses. Shocked at her own behaviour, she pushed him away, slapping his face.
Sebastian reeled back laughing. “You are certainly original” he told her. Shrugging off his robe, he asked her to undress. Alicia backed to the door staring in fascination at the naked young man now fully displayed. She gulped and tried to explain the appalling mistake.
“I was shown to the wrong room, sir. I must leave at once,” she stuttered out.
Sebastian still believed she was the lady he had been expecting. Lord Stephen’s taste had improved he concluded. This young lady was indeed special; an amusing conceit of his to send me up a demi-vierge, he thought.
“I was expecting you, this is the correct room, Miss.”
Sebastian gently picked her up and tossed her on the bed before joining her. Alicia pinned beneath the muscular body struggled. She kicked and pushed against him in desperation, but her efforts at escape were proving ineffective.
Sebastian feathered kisses upon the white skin of her throat as Alicia struggled beneath him. Her hair smelled sweetly of lavender. Sebastian was gr
atified to discover the curves of a pocket Venus under her drab pelisse as his hands roamed her body. Seriously frightened, Alicia’s pulse raced as Sebastian explored her full breasts through the linen of her night-rail. Cupping her firm buttocks he lifted her against the length of his body. His arousal throbbing hard against her stomach, she felt heat rushing through her as she reacted to his touch. Scents of fresh masculine musk under laid the clean smells of sandalwood and sweet wine nearly overpowering her senses. Alicia feared risking calling for assistance. If she was discovered in a gentleman’s bedroom, her reputation would be destroyed. But she knew she must get away before this powerful, beautiful man ravished her.
Sebastian hitched her skirts up and erotically stroked the smooth white skin of her thighs. She protested once more, so he kissed her again. Biting his lip sharply she scrambled out from under him as he yelped in pain. Immediately Sebastian grabbed her wrist to detain her.
“Please Sir, I was looking for my own room, my maid will be missing me. Let me go, I am a respectable woman.”
Sobering up he sat up. “Your maid? Weren’t you sent by Lord Stephen? You’re not my birthday present?”
“No sir, I’m not acquainted with any Lord Stephen. I’m staying overnight at this hotel on route to my aunt’s home. I missed my room and was pushed into this room. Please let me go!” Alicia was trembling with fear. Her face red with embarrassment, she tried not to stare at the all too male body sprawled on the bed.
“This isn’t one of Lord Stephen’s jests?” She shook her head. “I most sincerely offer you my apologies, Madam. You say you are a respectable, unmarried lady?”
“Yes Sir! Now please let me go!”
“I fear we will have to marry, for if word of this gets out, you’ll have lost your reputation in the eyes of society.”
“I’ve no intention of marrying a chance met, drunken libertine. If you let me go, no one need ever know. I certainly won’t tell anyone.”
“You had better wait then, while I see if the coast is clear…”
The Marquis got up, replacing his banyan. Carrying a candle he opened the door and checked the corridor. No one was about, so he handed Alicia the candle bowing as she left, but watching she got down the corridor safely without being further accosted.
Chapter Two
Sebastian refilled his glass ruefully rubbing his lip where he had been bitten. The young lady had been a pretty wench though not in the current style of beauty, he decided. Caressing her flesh beneath her clothing had greatly aroused him. Reluctantly he had let her go. Innocent and fresh, he desired the generous, feminine curves of her petite form. Regretting she had not been sent by Lord Stephen, because he had anticipated enjoying bedding her. There had been some fluttering, frightened response, despite her biting him; she would be a fire-cat when she was properly broken in.
Eventually reaching a level of physical detachment, he heard a rap on the door. Standing he opened it admitting a cloaked woman. Tall and slender with raven hair and subtly painted, this woman was his birthday gift. Looking her over he experienced disappointment, although undeniably beautiful, he had no real wish for her body. After his earlier unpaid for guest there was no contest. He berated himself for being churlish. Only if he pretended she was the other girl, could he imagine enjoying this woman. He doubted this accomplished harlot could make a show of innocence.
“I’m sorry, my dear,” he drawled, “but it has been a long day and I find I don’t wish to make use of your services. I understand you were paid by Lord Stephen, so if you will accept this small gratuity for your time and inconvenience, you may depart with my good wishes.”
He offered a generous handful of guineas, but the female was determined to please the handsome gentleman. Draping her limbs around his body in a cloud of sweet perfume, pouting prettily she skilfully stimulated him. Detaching her fondling hands, gently he pushed her away. I must really be getting jaded when I prefer an innocent virgin to a well-trained courtesan, he thought. Perhaps my Father is right after all. Maybe it is time to settle down and find a bride.
“I’m sure I can find some way to please you, my lord,” the woman whispered huskily as her hands reached once more to caress him intimately.
“I knew you weren’t that tired…” she crooned as he automatically responded to her professional ministrations.
Pushing her practised hands away, he refastened his dressing gown sash, stepping back.
“No, my ‘too, too solid flesh’ gives the lie to that remark,” he said ruefully fully aware of his body’s response. “I did not intend to disparage your obvious charms and expertise, madam. But if you don’t want the money, stay one moment longer and I will have you thrown out.”
Putting the handful of coins on the sideboard beside the door, he opened it bowing sarcastically to the trollop. She grabbed the coins and with one backward looking flounce, fled into the night.
Sebastian sat back down and thought back to the last time Stephen had decided to arrange a woman for him. Lord Stephen was a practical joker who had on that memorable occasion when they had both first been on town, arranged for one particular house to send him something “Special.” The very young Sebastian had been chased around the chamber by the largest lady it had been his misfortune to meet, escaping only when the lady of the house herself had come to see what the ruckus was about and rescued him.
Madame had retired as the leading incomparable of the demi-monde a few years earlier when her former chère-ami gifted her with sufficient funds to set up her own house. The young men of the ton believed she had retired too soon. Regular offers of carte blanches still came her way should she wish to consider them. Occasionally she deigned to entertain a particularly good-looking young man for a phenomenal sum, so Sebastian was delighted to accept her invitation to her own boudoir. There was a certain cachet among the young gentlemen of the ton, as having been one of Miranda’s lovers. Lord Stephen left the establishment, before his slightly younger friend and enquired to his whereabouts.
“With Madame,” was the reply he received so Lord Stephen looked for Sebastian late the following afternoon to quiz him over his foray with “the Divine Miranda.” Sebastian rousted out of his own bed looked tired, but no less handsome. He was surprisingly tight-lipped about discussing his evening’s adventures.
“What did she charge you Sebby? Beyond the reach of my pockets is the Incomparable Miranda.”
“Oh God, Stephen I forgot to ask. She gave me back what you paid for that leviathan, but said nothing more. I shall have to send her a present and an apology.”
The diamond bracelet he sent with a fulsome apology and a request for his bill was charmingly returned with a perfumed note from the divine Miranda. The note said that Lord Sebastian was welcome to visit Miranda any time with no charge. An educational offer the young Sebastian made excellent use of.
The Duke of Langsdown had laughed on being cuttingly informed of his son’s debaucheries by one of his contemporaries. “The boy never overspends his allowance and I understand the lady is very particular in the company she keeps. I see no problem with his behaviour.”
Father and son did not discuss the matter. In the eyes of the ton Sebastian’s romance with the mature courtesan was discussed with some malice. Reports filtered back to the Duke.
He openly declared, “The gossip mongers are simply jealous of Sebastian’s success with the divine Miranda.”
When at twenty two Sebastian received a substantial inheritance from a great-aunt, the lovers parted company, but remained good friends. No other young man took his place in Miranda’s favours, but Sebastian set up a series of beautiful dancers and actresses in a house in Covent Garden until he received an unexpected invitation to visit the Foreign Office.
There his language skills were sought after rather than his amatory prowess. His temporary diplomatic assignment to at first Lisbon and thence to other parts soon became a more regularised appointment. His ability to deal practically with awkward individuals and tense s
ituations was much appreciated in London.
Chapter Three
Alicia recognising her way in relief, slipped back into her room without disturbing Sally. Hours seemed to pass before she managed to fall asleep again. Her heart raced from fear and she admitted anticipation. Having escaped from the gentleman’s chamber, her relief was less than her indignation at having been so intimately assaulted. Yet she found herself examining the incident in great detail. She deplored how she had revelled in his caresses, Alicia rebuked herself for behaving so foolishly in leaving her room alone. She had been lucky he had let her go. Many young bloods would not have been gentleman enough to let her leave without first debauching her, especially after drinking heavily.
Alicia now understood why her governess had warned her of the temptations of being kissed by young men. Only by biting him had she made him understand she was not a whore. A few seconds later and it would have been too late. The young man had been so strong she could not have resisted what he wanted to do to her. One thought admitted she had not wanted to resist. A thrill of eagerness swept through her and she scolded herself. I am no better than the woman who now occupies his bed. Alicia was dismayed her mind jealously dwelt on the handsome young man pleasuring the light-skirt he had been expecting. Desire scorched her as she remembered the perfection of the muscles cut into his body, like a marble statue of a young Greek God.
The young rake, for that is how Alicia decided to think of him, had been a perfect specimen of manhood. He had been all hard muscle glowing golden in the candlelight, beautiful in spite of his drunkenness. Her thoughts as she finally fell asleep were of his kisses’ sweetness and his gentle caresses, tempered by her ironic knowledge that such a handsome young man would never notice her in a normal setting.
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