“I believe every word that you have said,” she answered swiftly, perhaps a little worried that he would think her less than eager to accept what he had spoken. “And I am glad to hear what you say, Lord Sutcliffe. I confess that I have been confused, hurt, and sorrowful these last few days, but when Lady Landerbelt suggested that we find a way to hear the truth from your lips, I found myself beginning to hope.” Her free hand settled against his chest, just over his heart, and Timothy felt a surging within his own heart.
“What was it that you hoped for, Miss Burton?” he asked, as she smiled at him.
“Hope that you had come to love me, as you had said,” she answered quickly. “And that hope has been shown to be correct, and I am glad for it, Lord Sutcliffe. For it means that I have no fear when it comes to express my own heart towards you.”
Swallowing hard, Timothy looked down into her eyes and felt even more unworthy than before. He would always be grateful for Miss Burton, he knew, for each passing day would be a reminder to him that, somehow, through the darkness, through his guilt and foolishness, he had managed to find a happiness that he did not deserve in the least.
“I love you, Lord Sutcliffe,” Miss Burton whispered, his heart roaring to life as he let go of her hand to wrap his arms about her waist, as joy began to run through him, chasing away all other emotions. “I love you desperately. It did not leave me, not even when you told me the truth about your wager.” She laughed softly, her eyes dancing. “I think that must prove that what I feel is not about to disappear like a puff of smoke,” she finished, with a wry smile. “For even in the depths of my pain and sorrow, it lingered within my heart, even though I wanted it gone from me entirely.”
“Oh, Miss Burton,” he began, leaning forward to rest his forehead lightly upon her own. “You cannot know just how much I am grateful for you. To have your love is more than I deserve, and yet I will accept it, grateful to you for your forgiveness, your kindness, and your sweet, loving nature.” Closing his eyes, he drew in a long breath, taking her in, holding her close, and feeling his happiness soar towards the sky. “I swear to you that I will love you as a husband ought, with every fiber of my being and with every piece of my heart.”
“As shall I,” she whispered, her head tilting upwards towards his. “I love you, Lord Sutcliffe, and I do not think I shall tire of saying it.”
He began to lower his head, only to recall his wager with Lord Musgrave, causing him jerk his head away. Miss Burton started in surprise, looking up at him with wide eyes.
“The wager,” he reminded her, a little embarrassed. “I should very much like to kiss you now, but if I do so, then the wager will be won, and I have already determined that—”
To his utter astonishment, Miss Burton reached up on tiptoe and, before he could finish speaking, had pressed her lips to his. Timothy felt his whole body burn hot with the strength of feeling that took hold, unable to do anything other than wrap his arms around her, pull her close, and kiss her in return.
“You will not lose the wager,” Miss Burton whispered against his lips, making his eyes flare with surprise. “You do not need to lose the painting in order to prove to me what is in your heart, Lord Sutcliffe. I have already seen it; I already trust your words.” With a quiet giggle, she kissed him lightly again. “Lord Musgrave will not have your painting, and you shall come out the victor.”
“With you by my side, I have already won,” he told her, his heart holding so much love for her that it was difficult to find words to express it to her. “You are astonishing, wonderful, and quite, quite lovely—in every way.” He tugged her even closer, smiling softly at her as she laughed. “And I love you with all of my heart.”
THE END
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About the Author
Charlotte Fitzwilliam was raised in Manchester, England and graduated from University in London with a Masters of English, which focused on 18th Century and Romantic Studies. Her passion since young adulthood was reading and writing romantic regency stories.
Charlotte feels like she is living a dream life as she often brings coffee or tea to the country side. She sits beneath a tree with her laptop to dream and write about proud dukes and ladies in long dresses falling in love.
The Marquess Who Chose Me by Charlotte Fitzwilliam
Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
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Thank You!
About the Author
Dedication
To Rita Y.
You were such a giving and loving grandmother. You set such a Godly example to me of the kind of person I want to be. You will always remain in my heart.
Prologue
LADY JEWELIANA STOCKBRIDGE, daughter to the Earl of Knighton, sighed happily as the last of her four brothers set off on his honeymoon. He and his wife waved out of the window of their carriage, which was decked with white flowers to celebrate this wonderful occasion. Lady Jeweliana stood with her extended family on the half-circle driveway in front of their vast estate home as the maids and servants stood in a line dressed in their best black and white uniforms. All waived demurely as they watched the carriage vanish into the flower-covered trees that lined the rolling hills of the estate.
“OH, MAMA,” Lady Jeweliana signed, her mind filled with what her own wedding might one day be like. “Shall it be my turn now?” Lady Jeweliana smiled, and her deep blue eyes looked up into her mother’s similar eyes with affectionate fun.
HER MOTHER, the Countess of Knighton, laughed and shook her head. “You are ten years old, Jeweliana. Give it a few more years, and then you shall have your Season.” Her mother took a strand of Lady Jeweliana’s chestnut hair, which was similar to her own, in her fingers in a loving and cheerful manner.
LADY JEWELIANA SIGHED AGAIN, her hands pressed at her heart dramatically. She had always been the baby of the family, more of an unexpected baby than anything else, she was quite sure, but yet that had not stopped her from growing close to her brothers. They were a good few years older than she, with the eldest now married with a child of his own, and now they all had their own lives and their own homes to look out for. In time, her eldest brother would inherit her father’s title and move into the estate she now resided in, but Jeweliana was quite sure that was a great many years away. For the moment, everything seemed just so delightful that she could not even allow herself to think of any kind of sadness.
“WHEN CAN I go to London, Mama?” Lady Jeweliana asked, wistfully, as her mother took her arm and turned them both around to go back into their manor. “Will it be soon?” “YOU WILL BE PRESENTED in a few years’ time,” her mother replied, with a broad smile as she patted her daughter’s hand. “There is a great deal for you to learn before then, however. You must learn how to be the most wonderful young lady London has ever known, with all the airs and graces expected of an earl’s daughter. Your painting, your dancing, your manners, and speech must all be g
iven the greatest of attentions over the next few years. Then, you will be ready to be presented and have a Season all of your own.” JEWELIANA SMILED HAPPILY, her mind filled with dreams as to what that day might bring.
“HOWEVER,” her mother continued, with a slight hitch in her voice. “Your father and I think it best that we find a suitable husband for you, Jeweliana. It is different for a lady, you see. Gentlemen of the ton can be cruel and misleading, and it is best that you are protected from all that.” That took the smile from Jeweliana’s face at once. “An arrangement, Mama?”
“AN ARRANGEMENT, YES,” her mother replied, as they entered the drawing room. “It is best you know these things now, Jeweliana, so that you are prepared. You will have your Season, of course, for that will be the time to get to know your betrothed, and come to the end of it, you will announce your engagement, and all will be well.” “BUT I DO NOT WANT to have my husband chosen for me,” Lady Jeweliana complained, her chest growing tight with emotion. “I want to be allowed to choose my own, just as my brothers have done. Why should I be treated differently from them?” HER MOTHER LAUGHED and shook her head, patting Jeweliana on the shoulder. “My dear child, you are young and very naïve when it comes to the ways of the world. You shall have to learn that gentlemen are not treated in the same way that ladies are. Gentlemen are allowed to choose their own bride, and it is up to a lady to prove that she is a cut above the rest. However, that leaves a great many young ladies heartbroken and despairing, and I would not have that for you. No, you will be settled and happy, and all will be well.” HOWEVER, the ten-year-old Jeweliana was not at all soothed by such a pronouncement, stamping her foot as she folded her arms and glared at her mother. “No, Mama, I will not allow you and father to treat me so differently. I will make my own match.” THE COUNTESS ARCHED one eyebrow and regarded her daughter carefully. “Goodness, you are a stubborn child. That will have to go from your character at once.”
“I AM DETERMINED,” Lady Jeweliana replied, firmly. “I will not have my life dictated for me, not when my brothers are allowed to have such freedoms. That is not fair.” Lady Jeweliana protested.
“NO, IT IS NOT,” the countess agreed.
WITH A GASP, Jeweliana spun around to see none other than her father, the Earl of Knighton, step into the room. He shot a quick glance towards his wife who lifted one shoulder in a delicate shrug, a small smile playing about her mouth.
“YOU MAKE A VERY GOOD ARGUMENT, my dear Jeweliana,” her father said softly, with no trace of anger in his eyes. “However, your mother and I only wish the best for you.” SITTING down and promising herself not to stamp her foot in such a childish way again, Jeweliana regarded her father carefully. He was fair and wise, and she respected him a great deal – but yet her determination not to be so differently treated continued to surge through her, spiking each of her words. “I wish to choose my own husband, Papa.” “SO I UNDERSTAND,” he said, calmly. “But I cannot allow that. There are too many nefarious gentlemen within society, Jeweliana, something that you are as yet entirely unaware of.” TEARS HURRIED into Jeweliana’s eyes. “So, I am to have no choice?”
“NO, I DID NOT SAY THAT,” her father replied, slowly, his eyes twinkling. “I will make you an offer, Jeweliana. When the time comes, you will have a Season all of your own and, with your mother’s direction, you will be allowed to dance and sing and generally make yourself as well-known as you please to as many people as you please. I am quite sure that you will make a wonderful impression, and, in time, you will have gentlemen of all titles and fortunes seeking to court you.” THINKING that this did not sound particularly terrible, Jeweliana nodded, her tears fading away.
“HOWEVER,” her father continued, coming to sit down beside his wife, “should none of the gentlemen be suitable, then, come the close of the Season, you will permit your mother and me to make an arrangement for you as regards your future.” FROWNING, Jeweliana considered this. “When you say that the gentlemen will not be suitable, you mean…”
HER FATHER CHUCKLED and shook his head. “You are still so young, Jeweliana, it may well be difficult for you to understand this, but there will be a great many young men seeking your dowry and your connection only.” “YOU MEAN, they will not care for me in my own regard?”
THE COUNTESS NODDED, her eyes bright. “Yes, that is it, Jeweliana. The gentlemen who wish to court you will be thoroughly scrutinized by either myself or your father before they are allowed to court you. If they pass our careful examination and are permitted to court you, then we would expect something of a more serious nature to pass between you by the Season’s end.” “A PROPOSAL,” her father said, somewhat bluntly as Jeweliana stared from one to the other. “Now, I know that you are young, child, and this may all seem somewhat difficult to comprehend and you may wish for some time to think on it but –”
JEWELIANA ROSE TO HER FEET, shaking her head. “No, father, I need no time to consider it. I accept your terms.” She held out her hand as she had seen her father do, and he laughingly took it, shaking it firmly.
HER MOTHER LAUGHED, her lips tipped in a wry expression. “My goodness, Jeweliana, you have a great deal to learn before you will be ready to go to London. A lady does not shake hands with a gentleman, not even her father.” JEWELIANA LIFTED HER CHIN, her heart glad about what she had achieved regardless of whether or not she was meant to shake hands. She would, at least, be allowed the opportunity to find a suitable husband for herself, although it appeared as though her parents held out very little hope in that regard. But surely the gentlemen of the ton could not be as wicked as they were making out? After all, her brothers were gentlemen, and they had behaved very well in London, according to her parents.
“I SHALL DO all I have to in order to be seen as a lady of quality without any kind of fault,” she declared, firmly. “I will practice and train and not complain for a single moment about it all! You shall see, Mama. I will find myself a suitable gentleman, one who will care for me and not only for my title. Of this, I am quite certain.”
HER MOTHER SMILED SOFTLY, reaching forward to take Jeweliana’s hand in her own. “Then I wish you the very best of luck, Jeweliana,” she said softly. “For I fear you will need it.”
1
NINE YEARS Later
“IT IS as though I am a wallflower already!”
“NONSENSE!” Jeweliana’s mother exclaimed, chiding her daughter gently. “You were delayed by a few years, yes, but that could not be helped. You know that your father was unwell, and I simply could not leave his side when he was so poorly. I know you are not all that selfish, Jeweliana, are you?” The countess lifted Lady Jeweliana’s chin with her gentle hand and looked into her eyes.
THE REBUKE MET ITS MARK. Jeweliana flushed and shook her head, turning away from her mother and looking out at the busy London streets. She had been formally introduced and was now ready and prepared to take part in all that London society had to offer, only to realize that most of the other young girls making their come-out were at least three years her junior.
“NO, Mama, I will try not to be selfish,” Jeweliana murmured, heat still curling up her spine. She was more than aware that to be so inconsiderate of her father was more than a little self-centered and felt herself all the more rebuked when she remembered how ill and pale he had been only last summer. Whatever it had been, it had taken two years for him to regain his strength and mental fortitude and her mother, of course, had been by his side almost every day without ceasing. There had been no talk of London or Jeweliana’s come out, and so Jeweliana had resigned herself to the fact that either she would go to London a little later than she had planned, or that she would end up being an old maid instead.
THANKFULLY, it was not the latter and, for that, she ought to be grateful.
“NOW,” her mother continued, her voice taking on something of a practical tone. “This is an afternoon garden party. You are to be on your very best behavior, and you are to consider this an introduction to London soci
ety. The ball tomorrow evening will be, of course, the more formal introduction where you can expect to dance with a great number of gentlemen, but for this afternoon, you will simply be formally introduced to a few, that is all. Expect conversation and plentiful enquiries as to your health, your father’s health, your mother’s health and whether or not you are enjoying London.” The smile in her mother’s voice made Jeweliana look over at her, dragging her gaze from the carriage window.
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