The Making of a Marquess Read online

  Her steady breathing puffed over his chest, and he reached down and idly scratched. She chuckled. “Such a man.”

  “Guilty.” Turning his head, he kissed her sweaty forehead. She’d worked hard for her orgasm, and he’d done everything he could to take her there. Not like before. This would be a bedding to remember, for her as well. Except when he’d hurt her.

  That was the second time he’d taken a virgin. With Mary, they had barely noticed, so this time had shocked him as much as it had Dorothea. Strange, considering Mary’s delicacy versus the statuesque Dorothea.

  He’d nearly pulled out, but her determination had driven him on. That and her magical body. Voluptuous, her touch urging him on, the heat and liquid warmth of her body pulling him in. But he couldn’t quite define what had driven him to madness. He’d lost himself in her, completely.

  “Tired,” she mumbled against his shoulder. “Meant to talk, but...”

  “We’ll have plenty of time for that. I’ll have to go to my own room, but I’ll wait until you sleep.”

  The grumble she made pulled him in further. He kissed her forehead. “Sleep now, sweetheart.”

  Chapter 17

  The sharp gasp woke Dorothea. She sat up. A man stood in the doorway of her room. Her involuntary squeak as she dived beneath the covers woke her lover.

  The male groan next to her shocked her into dropping the sheet she’d pulled up to cover herself. Her thoughts froze.

  “Oh, Lord.” He sat up to join her and flipped a hand at the man. “I want discretion, Rougier.”

  The tall, thin man bowed. “I will ensure you are not disturbed, sir, madam. I beg your pardon. Considering recent events, I was concerned for my lord’s safety so I came to find him.”

  He left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Dorothea turned on Ben. “Why didn’t you order him not to tell anyone?”

  “It would make no difference. If he spoke about this in the servants’ hall, that disobedience would undermine what authority I have in this house. He was probably curious as well as concerned. After all, his employment depends on my being alive. Consider this a test. If he speaks, he’s gone. If he doesn’t, he stays.” He tugged her back down, the light in his eyes kindling. She had completely forgotten that she was naked, but she recalled it now. “The staff here belong to Louis, apart from the ones the guests have brought with them. If Rougier does tell anyone, I’ll dismiss him without a character. I did not have to say that—he will understand.”

  “Except Schultz.” The butler had been here long enough to remember Ben.

  “Except Schultz, and a few others. This house should hold fifty servants, including gardeners. It did in my father’s day, but there are only twenty now.” He stirred, rubbing against her, and she came to life. Eagerly, she reached up for his kiss, and he gave it.

  “Good morning, sweetheart. I’m sorry I didn’t leave when I said I would. I honestly meant to go.”

  “But you’re tired.”

  “And I wanted to care for you. Yes, I was tired, too. However, here I am and here I’ll stay.”

  “What?” She was startled enough to pull back.

  “Why hide it? That would be ridiculous now. I don’t want to go around hugger-mugger, ruffling up an unused bed.”

  Heat tinged the tips of her ears. “I don’t know...”

  “It happens more often than people care to admit, anticipating the wedding.” He pulled her back. “Now sleep, and I swear that this time I’ll get up. I’ll order you tea, toast, and a bath. You’ll ache a little after what we did last night.”

  “We shouldn’t have.” What was she thinking? She buried her face against the strong column of his neck, unable to cope with the events of last night and this morning.

  “Yes, we should. You were magnificent, sweetheart. We will marry the Monday after the banns have been called. Do you hear me?”

  She nodded. “We have to go to church.”

  “Yes, we do. And it’s usual to walk.”

  Oh Lord, yes it was. He was right, she did feel uncomfortable in the place between her legs.

  “Of course,” she said, as if the prospect did not concern her in the least. But she couldn’t deny she felt stiff. And how was she to sit for hours in church, knowing the congregation knew what she’d been doing?

  A flash of recognition crossed her troubled mind. That was why couples had a honeymoon after their marriage, or one of the reasons at any rate. So the wife could accustom herself to her new status, to people knowing she shared her bed with a man.

  Except she wasn’t married. But lying here, in his arms, she couldn’t be sorry, only regret others would know. “Is that why Laurence and Ann moved rooms? They didn’t have a rattling window at all, did they?”

  “I haven’t checked.” He stroked her back, as if soothing a disturbed cat. “But yes, I believe they wanted to give us some privacy.”

  The truth lay between them, unspoken. They were not married, and someone was trying to kill Ben. But in that case, Dorothea could only be glad she had taken this opportunity. To have never experienced the pleasures of Ben’s lovemaking would have been a tragedy.

  He was right. She wouldn’t regret it.

  He rolled up onto one elbow, depositing her gently on her back. “I know what you’re thinking. Today, I’m writing a new will. You will be the beneficiary of all the property I can give to you, and I’ll leave it with the trustees of Childers’s Bank. That way you’ll have complete control over it.”

  She clutched his shoulders, forcing him to meet her gaze. “You can’t do that!”

  “Yes, I can. The title is more difficult, but I have enough independent income to assure your security. And in case you aren’t perfectly sure, we could have made a child last night.”

  “But you won’t take risks looking for who pushed the cherub and who aimed a shot at you?” She didn’t want to contemplate the would-be assassin succeeding. She refused to consider it. Surely fate wouldn’t be so cruel? She couldn’t lose him now.

  Despite what he said last night, she doubted anyone would want to kill her, but she had not protested too much, because she’d wanted him to stay.

  “I can’t go that far, but I will promise you I won’t take stupid risks. We’ll find whoever is doing this, if we haven’t already.”

  She stroked his chest, loving that she had the right to do so. “But we know, don’t we?”

  Catching her hand, he stopped her caresses and put his hand over hers. His heart beat against her palm. “It’s Louis. I just need to prove it. If I set a guard around him and have him watched, he can do little harm.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “And I’ve signed and helped compose enough legal documents to ensure this one will stand up to rigorous questioning. It’s only insurance, sweetheart, to guarantee you are acknowledged. This is my fortune and I can leave it where I may. I choose you.”

  Put like that, she could only accept he meant it. One way or another, she would be a wealthy woman. But without Ben?

  She would be a very impoverished wealthy woman.

  * * * *

  Every morning since she’d arrived at Cressbrook, Dorothea had taken a short stroll in the garden to blow away the cobwebs of the night. A habitual early riser, she usually had the area to herself, and so disappointment filled her when she spied a woman approaching her. Lady Honoria, wearing a broad-brimmed hat and bearing a parasol, had an easy smile. Her signature golden locks were tucked away under a lace and linen cap, which was why Dorothea had not recognized her immediately.

  “Good morning.” She shook back the ruffles of her elbow-length sleeves and shielded her eyes as she looked up. “A pleasant day, but it promises to scorch later. I thought I’d have my constitutional before it becomes hot. Much more pleasant to spend time in the coolest part of the house when the sun is at its height.”
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  “Indeed.” A politeness that meant nothing, but Dorothea could trade pleasantries until the sun went down, if she needed to. “A strange summer, with the sun and showers, but I daresay the gardeners are pleased.”

  This woman could be behind the attacks on Ben. She could even have committed one of them. While aware, Dorothea refused to back down.

  “I daresay,” Lady Honoria said without much interest. “Do you mean to keep the gardens as they are?”

  They strolled along the paths, the scent of the late roses swirling around them. Not many blooms were left now, but there were always the stubborn few overblown blossoms. The plants could use some pruning, but Louis and Lady Honoria had severely reduced the number of gardeners available to tend the sprawling park and gardens. “We will do what is required.”

  “You only needed to add ‘God willing’ and you’d have been the perfect marchioness to follow the Puritan Anne. You know they were staunch supporters of Oliver Cromwell and his herd of commoners?”

  “I’ve read some history of the family, yes,” Dorothea answered cautiously. The marquess of a hundred years ago had made a considerable fortune for the family, most of which Louis had spent in a way his ancestor would not have appreciated.

  “We cannot have the title spoiled in such a way again, don’t you agree?”

  Ah, so that was where she was going. “What way would that be?”

  The breeze strengthened to a gusty wind, and Lady Honoria had to grab her hat. The straw flapped up and threatened to fly away, despite the broad pink satin bow securing it to her head. “Oh, dealing with tradesmen. The title can never go into trade.”

  Ben was in trade.

  “My grandmother was,” Dorothea reminded her. Not that Lady Honoria needed reminding. No doubt she’d researched Dorothea’s family.

  “Perhaps, since dear Benedict was engaged in trade for the last seven years, that was what appealed to him in you.” Lady Honoria spared Dorothea a haughty smile. “You must see that a title as venerable as Belstead cannot succumb to a common streak. The third marquess was an aberration, but at least he was wellborn.”

  “Every aristocratic family owes its origins to a man who got his hands dirty.” Dorothea shouldn’t get so riled, but anger simmered under an exterior she was struggling to keep calm. “Whether he pored over account books or fought in a war, that is usually how titles begin. And unless there is investment, there can be no great house.”

  Although she’d planned to say much more, Dorothea clamped her mouth shut. What was the point? She would never win such an argument against a woman like Lady Honoria Thorpe, a duke’s daughter, no less, and fully aware of it every moment of the day.

  “Oh, you are so naïve, bless you!”

  Dorothea gritted her teeth.

  Lady Honoria sailed on. “You know, of course, that the—unpleasantness was over me. They both wanted me, though only one could have me.”

  “Hence the duel. Yes, I know that.”

  Lady Honoria winced at her blunt speaking. “Indeed, although ladies are supposed to be unaware.”

  “We’d have to be stupid not to know about duels. It’s one thing to be vague for the newspapers, but another to be genuinely ignorant of such a deplorable event.”

  Lady Honoria preened, rippling her shoulders. “At the time, they were the two most eligible bachelors in London. But such a tragedy, that Benedict ran off. He should have stayed, then none of this would have happened.”

  “None of what?” Why should she allow Lady Honoria to wriggle off the hook? She was evidently building up to something, so Dorothea was determined to make her as honest as possible. “We are the only people here. Don’t be afraid to speak the truth.”

  “Goodness, you’re quite formidable! I understand why Ben is attracted to you. You’re a novelty next to the women he usually pursues.” Lady Honoria pursed her lips. “But then, you would have seen him in London, would you not? You must be aware that he prefers the delicate, gentle female. You’re a novelty. He will soon tire of you.” She laid her hand on Dorothea’s arm in a confiding way, and leaned in, lowering her voice. “Naturally you are aware of his first wife. I never met the poor woman, but I understand she was gentle and sweet, and tiny.”

  Staring down at Honoria was no compensation for Dorothea, whose heart sank to the soles of her sturdy shoes. Ben had made her feel like a beautiful woman, so why did this example of femininity make her feel large and clumsy?

  She let the feeling wash through her; then it was gone. The memories of constant humiliation and cruelty had their numbing effect, until she grew older and truly didn’t care. Now she could use the other’s reaction against her.

  Learning to cover the response didn’t mean it didn’t still happen. Dorothea didn’t want to run and hide from the cruelty of others, but by now, the unnecessary unkindness made her angry. These days she didn’t care—truly, and if she’d needed proof it stood next to her, in the exquisitely beautiful Lady Honoria. Let her say what she would. This time Dorothea would listen.

  After this—no more. “But he has promised to marry me,” she prompted.

  That was enough to start Lady Honoria off again. “Expediency. Benedict is a gentleman. Look how he fought an affair of honor and chose to keep my name out of the encounter. He is also a man who appreciates beauty. If I were single again...” She looked away and sighed. “But I cannot even think of that while my dear Louis is with us. However, be warned, if the worst ever happens, I might choose to demand of Ben what he asked of me seven years ago.” She smiled brightly at Dorothea. “You saw us together that morning. You must know how he feels about me. His passion for me has never faded.”

  If Ben had not been so frank with her, Dorothea might have taken her at her word. As it was, she knew better. But Honoria had not done.

  “He will not marry you, my dear, he is merely taking his pleasure in you, in default of me. Once I succumb, I will be all he needs. You should find a different man to marry. A bishop would appreciate your strength and your Puritan style. You’ll need more than that to hold Benedict.”

  Seemingly unaware of Dorothea’s stiffening, Honoria still kept hold of her arm. “Forgive me, my dear, but you did bid me speak freely. I am still enamored of him. Who would not be? Do not blame either of us if fate draws us together.”

  Dorothea had heard enough. She pulled her arm away. “You mistake me. If fate draws you together, it will be against my will, and be warned, I will demand satisfaction.”

  A smile quirked the woman’s lips. “Satisfaction? You would fight a duel for him?”

  Dorothea shrugged. “I shared my brother’s fencing lessons. I believe I can give a good enough account of myself.” Their parents had thought the lessons would help Dorothea become graceful. A shame that had not happened, but at least she’d gained a measure of poise and inner strength.

  So Lady Honoria wanted what she’d always hankered for—both men at her feet. And she had the arrogance to assume she would get it.

  She would have to climb over Dorothea’s dead body first.

  Chapter 18

  “I wondered where you’d got to.” Coming into the library, Ben leaned over Dorothea and gave her a kiss, which she returned with enthusiasm. During the two weeks since their first night together, they had slept in the same bed. Ben had overwhelmed her with passion, trying to give her all the confidence she needed to take the lead, to initiate what she wanted. But his attempts were far from altruistic. He had taken as much as he had given. In Dorothea, he had found his partner, his friend, his—

  No, not that.

  And nobody knew. Rougier had kept his silence and his position. He was dealing with Ben’s nightly absence from his room, and despite Ben’s brave words to Dorothea, the empty bed was getting ruffled.

  “I’m going through these.” She indicated the books. Since this was the main estate, copies of all the
household accounts for all the properties Ben owned as the marquess were kept here. “The muniments room was cold, so I had a footman bring them up.”

  He knew what she meant. The muniments room was below ground level, in a part of the building that never seemed to get the sun. The precious papers that went back for centuries were well protected from the damp and cold, but the person occupying the room was not. He would see to having everything moved somewhere else and to hell with tradition.

  He glanced at the carefully scripted columns of figures. “All these?”

  Numbers fascinated him. Rapidly, he assessed what she was studying and heaved a sigh. “They’re not good, are they?”

  “No.” She indicated an open folder, containing receipts and notes. “And they’ve not been kept up to date. These are the last month’s notes, and they haven’t been entered into the accounts yet.”

  “Do you suspect wrongdoing?” Had someone been embezzling?

  “Not precisely. Carelessness, certainly. But Schultz is watching, or so he tells me.”

  Pulling out the chair next to her, he took a seat at the broad table that ran down the center of the library. This used to be the dining table when feasts had been held in the great hall, in the days of knights and ladies. The library was very old. Although thanks to Louis it had a veneer of fashion, it held ancient, handwritten books as well as modern volumes covered in tooled leather and the Belstead arms.

  Bookcases interspersed the wide windows, which were covered with blinds to protect the precious volumes. The long table allowed large books to be spread out.

  “There’s much extravagance here, and worse.”

  “What’s worse?”

  “Dreadful waste. The cook is certainly making the best of her perquisites.” Precious tea leaves and leftovers could be sold at the kitchen door.