Compromising the Marquess Read online

  “Good morning, Lady Felicity,” she said in that melodious voice of hers. “I am Leah Elliott.”

  “Then you must be Sir Percy’s niece. He told us you would be coming to stay. How lovely to meet you.” Typically, Flick linked her arm through Miss Elliott’s as though she had known her for her entire life. “You and I must be of a similar age,” she said boldly.

  “I am one-and-twenty.”

  “Then you are just one year ahead of me.” Felicity sighed. “Oh, how I wish I was of age. Then my three dreadful brothers wouldn’t try to govern every move I make.”

  Gabriel made a scoffing sound at the back of his throat, echoing Hal’s own thoughts. The day had yet to dawn when any of them could make Flick do something she didn’t wish to.

  “I’m sure they only have your best interests at heart.”

  “Well, I’m not sure of any such thing,” she said with a toss of her curls. “Such a fuss they make over the slightest little thing.”

  “You are fortunate to have relatives who care so much about your welfare.”

  “That’s easy for you to say.” Flick clapped a hand over her month. “Listen to me, talking without thinking. Hal will have it that it’s my biggest fault. I tend to forget myself, you see, and my tongue runs away with me.”

  Leah smiled. “Think nothing of it.”

  “You have lost your dear mama and papa, is it not so, Miss Elliott, and are now quite alone in the world, but for your uncle, Sir Percy?”

  “Yes, but my sister and I are reconciled to our loss. It was several years ago now.”

  “Even so.” Flick appeared to notice that the other ladies had stopped talking amongst themselves and were following the girls’ conversation with avid interest. “However, I long to get to know you and your sister. It will be delightful to have girls closer to my own age in the locality. May I call upon you?”

  Hal expected that such a request, coming from a lady of Flick’s status, would overwhelm Miss Elliott. Once again she surprised him with her calm civility.

  “We’d be honoured,” she said simply.

  “Good, and you must both come to dinner here as soon as it can be arranged.”

  “Well, I’m not sure if—”

  “Nonsense, I insist. She must come, must she not, Gabriel?”

  Gabe inclined his head. “We’d be delighted to see you and your sister as soon as Flick can make the arrangements.”

  Oh, Lord. Hal expelled a long breath, all out of patience with his impulsive sister. The last thing he wanted was two church mice at his table, too frightened to open their mouths. They’d probably be unaware which fork to use, how to pass a dish of peas, which side to place their bread.

  “Good, well, that’s settled then.” Gabriel stood up but it was a moment or two before Mrs. Wilkinson followed his example.

  “Be sure to advise the marquess of our concerns, young man,” she said, wagging a finger beneath Gabriel’s nose. “Otherwise, it won’t be me that calls next time, but my husband.” She pulled herself up to her full insubstantial height. “There, what do you say to that?”

  Thank heavens for small mercies.

  Gabriel rang the bell, Potter appeared with stately alacrity and showed the ladies out. As soon as the coast was clear, Hal emerged from his hiding place.

  “God’s teeth, Hal!” Gabriel ran a hand through his hair. “How do you cope with them?”

  Hal laughed. “By avoiding them at all costs.”

  “And leaving them to me.”

  Hal elevated a brow. “You did say that you wanted to take on more responsibility here at the Hall.”

  “Yes, but dealing with that harridan wasn’t quite what I had in mind.”

  Hal helped himself to a measure of brandy from the decanter on the sideboard. “Rough with the smooth, little brother. Unfortunately one can’t pick and choose.”

  Gabriel grunted. “You appear to do so.”

  “I thought Miss Elliott has possibilities,” Flick remarked.

  Hal pulled the local newspaper from his sister’s grasp. “That isn’t for your eyes.”

  Flick pouted. “How else am I supposed to learn about Mrs. Fitzherbert’s latest doings with the prince regent?”

  “You’re not. Whoever writes all that gossip deserves to be clapped in irons.”

  Flick merely laughed and retrieved the paper from where Hal had thrown it. “What a charmingly old-fashioned view. I adore gossip.”

  Hal and Gabriel exchanged a look.

  “With regard to Miss Elliott,” Hal said. “Was it really necessary to invite her here?”

  “It’s all very well for you,” Flick said, casting the paper aside again. “You come and go as you please, getting up to I know not what. So does Robert, for that matter, and Gabriel’s having a grand old time of it at Cambridge. Whereas I—”

  “Will be going up to town for your second season. And,” Hal added, “you could have been comfortably married with an establishment of your own by now, had you deigned to consider any of the many suitable offers that came your way when you made your debut.”

  “Bah!” She flapped a hand. “They were all so stuffy.”

  “But rich enough to keep you in silk,” Gabriel pointed out.

  “Oh,” Flick said carelessly, “Hal can do that without my having to give anything in return.”

  “Felicity!” Gabriel said, shocked.

  Hal merely laughed. “Unless you bankrupt me with your extravagance first,” he said, unable to keep the affection he felt for the minx out of his tone.

  “Well, I fully intend to take up with Miss Elliott.” Flick’s smile was full of mischief. “I understand that her sister is quite the beauty.”

  “More than can be said for Miss Elliott,” Hal muttered.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Flick mused. “I thought her face possessed great strength of character. And I absolutely adore the colour of her hair.”

  “Such lofty considerations being sufficient for you to decide she’s worth knowing?”

  “Beggars can’t be choosers. There are few enough young ladies in the district whom you would consider suitable companions for me, and I get lonely.”

  Hal ruffled her curls. “You have Miss Archer to bear you company.”

  “Archie is more a friend than a governess nowadays, but it’s not at all the same thing.” Flick canted her head. “The Misses Elliott might be impecunious but their relationship to Sir Percy makes them a perfectly respectable connection.”

  “Oh, God!” Gabriel groaned. “If you invite the Elliotts, I suppose you’ll have to invite Sir Percy too. I don’t mind him but his wife is worse than Mrs. Wilkinson, if that’s possible. No wonder Miss Elliott insisted upon inhabiting the gatehouse.”

  Chapter Two

  “How did it go?” Meg asked.

  Leah removed her bonnet, cloak and gloves and handed them to their elderly housekeeper. “Actually it was quite amusing.”

  “Come into the parlour then. I have a fire going.”

  Leah frowned. “It isn’t cold, Meg. The expense—”

  “Miss Bethany was glad of the warmth.”

  “Of course.” Leah felt guilty for even bring the subject up. Her sister was far too thin, always felt the cold and seemed to catch a chill every time she was exposed to the slightest draft.

  “She will be anxious to hear all about your excursion.”

  “How is she today?” Leah asked. “She wasn’t up when I went out this morning.”

  “She has a little more colour in her cheeks, I’m happy to say.”

  “That’s good.”

  Bethany, reclining on a sofa, looked up when Leah entered the room. Pickle, Leah’s young black-and-white mongrel dog, lifted his head from his position in front of the fire and flapped his tail. Once his ears had received a good scratching, he was content to return to his slumbers.

  “Ah, there you are,” Beth said, smiling. “Did you know that Henry VIII ordered a Frenchman to behead Anne Boleyn because he was the m
ost skilled executioner around?” She grimaced, indicating the open book on her lap. “He must have cared for her a little, I suppose.”

  “A quick death, you mean.” Leah quirked a brow. “You’ve become very bloodthirsty. Wherever did you get that tome?”

  “Our uncle sent it down from the big house. He thought it might interest me.”

  “Well, clearly he was right about that.” Leah bent to kiss her sister’s brow, trying not to make it too obvious that she was examining her closely for signs of improvement.

  “How did you get on?” Beth asked.

  “Very interesting, and I shall tell you all about it directly.” Leah flung herself into the chair opposite Bethany’s sofa. “But first, tell me how you feel.”

  “I do wish you wouldn’t worry so much,” Beth scolded. “I feel very well indeed.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say so.”

  “You have exaggerated my symptoms because you want people to think that’s why we came here, I understand that very well, but really—”

  “It is why we came here.”

  “No, dearest,” Beth said, reaching across to touch her sister’s hand. “We came here because we could no longer afford to pay the rent in Wapping.”

  “That’s not precisely true.”

  “Yes, it precisely is.”

  Leah gave up the argument. Beth may have guessed correctly that they were not well placed, but Leah would never admit just how close to the brink they actually were, or Beth would never consent to seeing a doctor for fear of incurring more medical bills. As it was, Beth wouldn’t admit the inflammation of her lung was anything more than a minor ailment. It was considerably more than that since she couldn’t stand the slightest exertion without becoming seriously short of breath.

  The doctor had recommended removal from the grime of London, suggesting that sea air would be more beneficial to his patient’s well-being. Leah wouldn’t wish her sister ill, of course, but their temporary removal from London had been a perfect solution to an increasingly pressing financial situation.

  Sir Percy was applied to and didn’t disappoint. For her sister’s sake, Leah would even have put up with living under the same roof as their detested Aunt Augusta. Fortuitously, the offer of the gatehouse was a happy compromise that suited everyone.

  “Have it your way.” Leah smiled at Meg as she bustled into the room with a tray of tea. “Thank you,” she said, accepting a cup from her.

  “Come on then,” Beth said, blue eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Tell me everything. I’ve been dying of curiosity. What was the marquess like? Is he very fierce? Did he send Mrs. Wilkinson away with a good set-down?”

  “None of those things because unfortunately he wasn’t there.”

  “Oh, bother. I so wanted to hear about him. Where have you been all this time then?”

  “We saw the youngest brother instead. Lord Gabriel. Mrs. Wilkinson tells me that he’s one-and-twenty and about to finish his final year at Cambridge.”

  “He must be very clever then, but is he handsome? Is what we’ve heard about the family’s good looks true?”

  “I met his sister as well. She was charming and put me quite at my ease. She intends to call on us, so you will be able to judge for yourself. But to answer your question, Lord Gabriel is tall, with thick blond hair and brown eyes. He had a hard time of it, dealing with Mrs. Wilkinson—”

  “Anyone would,” Meg decreed, grimacing.

  “Lady Felicity is also blonde. She’s very pretty and perfectly charming. You won’t be able to help liking her.”

  “That’s good.” Beth pondered for a moment. “I wonder why she wishes to know us, though. I mean, Forster Hall is very grand, whereas we...” She cast her hands round the small room, her words trailing away.

  “Why wouldn’t she?” Meg argued stoutly. “Her father was just an ordinary landowner, before the king elevated him to a marquisate.”

  “Hardly that,” Leah said, smiling. “He was the younger brother of the Duke of Dawlish and the current marquess is the duke’s heir.”

  “How can he be a marquess and heir to a dukedom?” Beth asked, frowning.

  “Sir Percy explained it to me. It seems his father was just plain Lord Forster when he was younger but very political. During the Gordon Riots—”

  “I read about those.” Beth shuddered. “It was a terrible time of unrest.”

  Beth liked to pretend that she didn’t have a quick mind but that was quite untrue. And she had a great love of history.

  “Indeed it was. Our military forces were stretched too thin to deal with civil unrest of that magnitude. They were deployed in the American War of Independence and in conflicts with France and Spain. The riots damaged Britain’s reputation across Europe and our neighbours saw our constitutional monarchy as inherently unstable.”

  “Those French devils would have seen to that,” Meg said.

  “Lord Forster conducted diplomatic missions across Europe, specifically in Austria to challenge the strong coalition the French had built, at the same time doing much to repudiate those rumours about our monarchy.”

  “Then he deserved to become a marquess,” Beth said, nodding decisively. “He was a patriot and a hero.”

  “Well,” Meg said, “whatever previous generations of Forsters might have got up to, I still maintain that you’re quite their social equals. Your mama was from a good family and your father was extremely well-read.”

  “But that hardly puts us on an equal footing.” Beth shared an amused glance with Leah.

  “I heard a very different account regarding the acquisition of the marquisate,” Meg said. “Rumour has it that old Lord Forster made himself indispensable at court, chose his allies wisely and was rewarded accordingly. Not that any land or riches came with the title, but he already had those in abundance. In fact, he used his wealth to buy himself favour, some would have it.” Meg frowned. “Of course, that was when the poor king was in possession of all his faculties, not like now.”

  “Rich gentlemen with the ear of the king make a lot of enemies,” Beth said. “I could recite any number of examples from recent history alone. I could also cite instances when rumours have deliberately been generated to occasion a rival’s fall from grace.”

  “I’m not sure you should repeat such rumours anyway, Meg,” Leah said gently.

  Meg merely sniffed. Employed by their parents before Leah was born, she’d been with the family ever since and felt free to speak her mind. She was quite one of the family and the girls had few secrets from her. Their only other help was Jonny, a young lad who had adopted them whilst they still resided in Whitechapel, carrying out all the heavy work in return for bed and board.

  “Besides,” Leah added, “Mrs. Wilkinson is firmly of the opinion that the current marquess does not follow in his father’s footsteps.”

  “Don’t believe everything that woman tells you,” Meg warned. “Just like Miss Beth’s historical figures, she probably has her own agenda.”

  “I think it very forward of Mrs. Wilkinson to express herself so freely to her betters,” Beth said. “I wonder the marquess puts up with it.”

  “Perhaps that’s why he avoids her,” Leah said. “Mrs. Wilkinson seems to think that being married to the vicar gives her some sort of divine right to speak her mind. From what I’ve heard of the marquess, he’s unlikely to tolerate being lectured to in such a fashion.”

  “Still, it’s a shame the marquess wasn’t there,” Beth said. “He’s quite a man of mystery, and very eligible by all accounts.”

  “I think he was there, actually,” Leah said, grinning.

  “Why do you say that?” Meg and Beth asked together.

  “Well, as I was waiting to get into Mrs. Wilkinson’s old carriage—what a squash that was, by the way. I felt quite sorry for the poor horse. Anyway, I was the last to get in. I happened to glance back at the house and saw a very tall blond man standing at the window, watching us.”

  “It must have been Gab
riel Forster. You said he was tall.”

  “No, this man had his hair in a queue. I saw that much quite clearly.” And I felt a very strange sensation trickle through me when our eyes locked.

  “The marquess is reputed to wear his hair in such a fashion,” Beth agreed, nodding. “Presumably he had the good sense to steer clear of Mrs. Wilkinson, as you should have done.”

  “I don’t think it was very gallant of him to leave his youngest brother to face her displeasure. He was quite unequal to dealing with her.”

  “Most people would be,” Meg said.

  “Fortunately, Lady Felicity defused the situation. Without her, I daresay we would all still be there, enduring Mrs. Wilkinson’s diatribe.”

  Meg hauled herself to her feet. “Well, I must be getting on.”

  “Can I help?” Leah asked.

  “No, Miss Leah, thanks all the same. You don’t need to concern yourself with the kitchen. Besides, your uncle’s been kind enough to send a housemaid down each morning, so we’re well organised.”

  “I’ll wager Aunt Augusta doesn’t know about that,” Leah said beneath her breath.

  “So, what did you really learn?” Beth asked as soon as the door closed behind Meg.

  “A few snippets of information that might be useful. It seems the Boar’s Head requires further investigation.” Leah chewed her lower lip as she thought about the plan that had been incubating inside her head since leaving the Hall.

  “Oh no, Leah, don’t do anything rash. I couldn’t bear it if you were found out.” Beth put on a stern voice but a giggle still escaped. “Just imagine Mrs. Wilkinson’s reaction if you were caught frequenting such an establishment.”

  The girls fell into one another’s arms, laughing until they cried.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t be there,” Leah said, wiping tears from her eyes. “Leon, however, might put in an appearance.”