How to Marry a Marquis

Chapter 16

As James walked Elizabeth home, he felt his life fall into focus. Since he had been forced out of the War Office, he had been floating more than actually living. He had been caught by malaise, knowing he had to move forward with his life but dissatisfied with the options that had presented themselves. He knew he needed to marry, but his response to the women in London had been almost uniformly lukewarm. He needed to take a more active interest in his lands and estates, but it was difficult to call Riverdale Castle home when he saw his father's shadow in every corner.

But in the space of a week, his life had assumed a new direction. For the first time in over a year, he wanted something.

He wanted someone.

He wanted Elizabeth.

He had been bewitched before this afternoon, enchanted and obsessed to the point where he'd decided he'd marry her. But something very strange and magical had occurred in the stable stall when he'd tried to comfort Elizabeth.

He'd found himself telling her things he'd held secret for years. And as the words had poured forth, he'd felt a hollow within him filling up. And he knew that he wasn't bewitched by Elizabeth. He wasn't enchanted, and he wasn't obsessed.

He needed her.

And he knew that he wouldn't find peace until he made her his, until he knew every inch of her body and every corner of her soul. If this was love, he gave himself up to it willingly.

But he could not abandon his responsibilities, and he would not break his promise to his aunt. He'd solve the mystery of this damned blackmailer. After all Agatha had done for him as a child, he'd solve this mystery for her.

Elizabeth loved Agatha. She would understand.

But that didn't mean that he would sit on his hands. He'd told Agatha that the best way to find the blackmailer was to wait for another note, and that was true, but he was tired of waiting.

He looked over at Elizabeth's face, took in those endless blue eyes and flawless skin, and made his decision. "I have to go to London tomorrow," he said abruptly.

Her head turned toward his in an instant. "London?" she echoed. "Why?"

"Some unpleasant family business," he replied, hating that he could not tell her the whole truth, but taking some comfort in the fact that his words were not precisely a lie.

"I see," she said slowly.

Of course she didn't see, he thought angrily. How could she? But he could not tell her. It was unlikely that Agatha's blackmailer might turn violent, but James could not completely discount that possibility. The only way to fully safeguard Elizabeth was to leave her in the dark.

"I'll be back soon," he said. "I hope within a week."

"You're not planning to pursue Fellport, are you?" she asked, worry creasing her brow. "Because if you are-"

He pressed his index finger gently against her soft lips. "I'm not planning to pursue Fellport."

Her expression remained uncertain. "If you attack him again, you will hang," she persisted. "Surely you know-"

James silenced her with a kiss that was brief and yet full of promise, "Don't worry over me," he murmured against the corner of her mouth. He drew back, taking both of her hands in his. "There are things I need to do, items I need to take care of before…"

His words trailed off, and he saw the silent question resting in her eyes. "We will be together," he vowed. "I promise you."

In the end, he had to kiss her one last time. “The future looks very bright," he whispered, the words soft and sweet against her lips. "Very bright indeed."

Elizabeth held those words close to her heart ten days later, when there was still no sign of James. She wasn't certain why she was so optimistic about the future; she was still a lady's companion and James was still an estate manager, and neither of them possessed a cent, but somehow she trusted in his abilities to make the future, as he had put it, bright.

Maybe he was expecting an inheritance from a distant relative. Maybe he knew one of the masters at Eton and could arrange for Lucas to attend at a reduced rate. Maybe…

Maybe maybe maybe. Life was full of maybes, but suddenly "maybe" held a lot more promise.

After so many years of shouldering responsibility, she felt almost giddy at abandoning her constant sense of worry. If James said he could solve her problems, she believed him. Maybe she was foolish, thinking a man could swoop into her life and make everything perfect. After all, her father hadn't exactly been a model of dependability and rectitude.

But surely she deserved a little bit of magic in her life. Now that she had found James, she couldn't bring herself to look for pitfalls and dangers. Her heart felt lighter than it had in years, and she refused to think that anything might steal that bliss away.

Lady Danbury confirmed that James had been granted a brief leave to visit his family. It was a singular boon for an estate manager, but Elizabeth assumed that James was given greater latitude and consideration due to his family's slight connection to the Danburys.

What was odd, however, was Lady Danbury's near-constant state of irritability. She may have given James time to tend to his business, but she clearly had not done so with great grace and charity. Elizabeth could not count the number of times she'd caught Lady D grumbling about his absence.

Lately, though, Lady Danbury had been too preoccupied with her upcoming masquerade ball to defame James. It was to be the largest ball held at Danbury House in years, and the entire staff-plus the fifty extra servants brought in just for the event-was buzzing with activity. Elizabeth could barely make it from the sitting room to the library (which was only three doors down) without tripping over someone or other, racing to Lady Danbury with questions about the guest list, or the menu, or the Chinese lanterns, or the costumes, or…

Yes, costumes. Plural. Much to Elizabeth's shock, Lady Danbury had arranged for two costumes. Queen Elizabeth for herself, and a shepherdess girl for Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was not amused.

"I am not going to carry that crook around with me all night," she swore.

"Crook, ha. That's nothing," Lady D chortled. "Just wait until you see the sheep."

"Whaaaat?"

"I'm only kidding. Good heavens, girl, you must develop a better sense of humor."

Elizabeth spluttered a great deal of nonsense before finally managing to get out, "I beg your pardon!"

Lady D waved her hand dismissively. "I know, I know. Now you're going to tell me that anyone who has survived five years working for me must be in possession of an excellent sense of humor."

"Something like that," Elizabeth muttered.

"Or perhaps that if you didn't have a stellar sense of humor you'd by now have been killed by the torture of serving as my companion."

Elizabeth blinked. "Lady Danbury, I think you might be developing a sense of humor yourself."

"Euf. At my age one has to have a sense of humor. It's the only way to make it through the day."

Elizabeth only smiled.

"Where's my cat?"

"I have no idea, Lady Danbury. I haven't seen him this morning."

Lady D twisted her head this way and that, speaking as she scanned the room for Malcolm. "Still," she pontificated, "one would think I would receive at least a token more respect."

“I certainly don't know what you mean by such a comment."

Lady Danbury's expression was wry. "Between you and James, 1 shall never be allowed to grow too big for my britches."

Before Elizabeth could reply, Lady D turned back around and said, "At my age it's my right to be too big for my britches."

"And what age would that be today?"

Lady D wagged her finger. "Don't be sly. You know very well how old I am."

"I do my best to keep track of it."

"Hmmph. Where's my cat?"

Since she had already replied to that question, Elizabeth instead asked, "When, ah, do you expect Mr. Siddons to return?"

Lady Danbury's eyes were far too perceptive when she asked, “My errant estate manager?''

"Yes."

"I don't know, drat the man. We're falling into complete ruin here."

Elizabeth glanced through the window at the endless pristine lawns of Danbury House. "You might be overstating slightly."

Lady D started to say something, but Elizabeth held up her hand and said, "And don't tell me that at your age it's your prerogative to exaggerate."

"Well, it is. Hmmph. Malcolm!"

Elizabeth's eyes flicked to the door. The king of Danbury House was padding into the sitting room, his fat paws moving silently across the carpet.

"There you are, sweetie," Lady Danbury cooed. "Come to Mama."

But Malcolm didn't even flick his cafe au lait tail at her. While Lady D watched in horror, her cat trotted straight to Elizabeth and hopped up on her lap.

"Good kitty," Elizabeth purred.

"What is going on here?" Lady D demanded.

"Malcolm and I have come to a rapprochement of sorts."

"But he hates you!"

"Why, Lady Danbury," Elizabeth said, pretending to be shocked. "All these years you have insisted that he's a perfectly friendly kitty."

"He's certainly a perfect kitty," Lady D muttered.

"Not to mention all the times you told me this was all in my head."

"I lied!"

Elizabeth slapped a hand against her cheek in mock disbelief. "No!"

"I want my cat back."

Elizabeth shrugged. Malcolm flipped over onto his back and stretched out with his paws over his head.

"Miserable traitorous feline."

Elizabeth smiled down at the cat as she rubbed the fur under his chin. “Life is good, eh, Malcolm? Life is very, very good."

Malcolm purred in agreement, and Elizabeth knew it had to be true.

Back in London, James was frustrated as hell. He'd spent well over a week investigating Agatha's life and had come up with nothing. He couldn't find a soul who even knew of anyone with a grudge against his aunt. Oh, plenty of people had plenty to say about her acerbic wit and direct manner, but no one truly hated her.

Furthermore, there was nary a hint of a whisper of scandal surrounding her past. As far as London was concerned, Agatha, Lady Danbury, had led an exemplary life. Upstanding and true, she was lauded the prime example of proper English womanhood.

Truth be told, he couldn't remember ever pursuing an investigation that was quite so boring.

He'd known that it was unlikely he'd find anything substantive; after all, the blackmailer had sought out his aunt in Surrey. But he'd unearthed no clues at Danbury House, and London had seemed the logical next step. If Agatha's enemy had learned of her secret past through the ton's brilliantly efficient gossip mill, then it stood to reason that someone in London would know something.

James had been bitterly disappointed.

There was nothing to do now except return to Danbury House and hope that the blackmailer had made another demand. This seemed unlikely, however; surely his aunt would have notified him if she'd received another threatening note. She knew where to reach him; he'd told her exactly where he was going and what he hoped to accomplish.

Agatha had argued bitterly against his leaving. She had been convinced that her blackmailer would be found in Surrey, skulking in the shadows of Danbury House. By the time James exited through the front door, Agatha had been in fine form, grumpy and sullen, more irritable than her cat.

James winced when he thought of poor Elizabeth, stuck in his aunt's surly company for the past week. But if anyone could draw Agatha out of her temper, he was convinced it was Elizabeth.

Three more days. He would devote no more time to his London investigation. Three days and then he would return to Danbury House, announce his failure to his aunt and his intentions to Elizabeth.

Three more days and he could begin his life anew.

By Friday afternoon, Danbury House was under siege. Elizabeth locked herself in the library for a full hour just to get away from the swarms of servants readying the mansion for that night's masquerade celebration. There was no escape from the frenzied activity, however; Lady Danbury had insisted that Elizabeth make her preparations at Danbury House. It was a sensible proposal, eliminating the need for Elizabeth to travel home and then return in full costume. But it also made it impossible for her to slip away for a few minutes of peace.

The time in the library didn't count. How could it count when no less than five servants banged on the door, requesting her opinion on the most inane of matters. Finally Elizabeth had to throw up her hands and yell, “Ask Lady Danbury!"

When the first of the carriages rolled down the drive, Elizabeth fled upstairs to the room Lady Danbury had assigned to her for the evening. The dreaded shepherdess costume hung in the wardrobe, accompanying crook leaning against the wall.

Elizabeth flopped onto the bed. She had no desire to arrive early. She fully expected to spend most of the evening by herself. She didn't mind her own company, but the last thing she wanted was to be noticeably by herself. Arriving while the party was a true crush meant that she could blend into the crowd. By then, Lady Danbury's guests ought to be too involved hi their own conversations to pay attention to her.

But the guests arrived in a flood rather than a trickle, and Elizabeth knew Lady Danbury well enough to know that the countess would drag her downstairs by the hair if she put off her appearance much longer. So she donned the shepherdess costume, affixed the feathered mask Lady D had also purchased for her, and stood in front of the mirror.

"I look ridiculous," she said to her reflection. "Utterly ridiculous." Her white dress was a mass of tucks and frills, adorned with more lace than any shepherdess could afford, and the bodice, while certainly not indecent, was cut lower than anything she'd ever worn before.

"As if any shepherdess could run through the fields wearing this," she muttered, tugging at the dress. Of course it was unlikely a shepherdess would be wearing a feathered mask, either, but that seemed neither here nor there compared to the expanse of bosom she was showing.

"Oh, I don't care," she declared. "No one will know who I am, anyway, and if anyone tries anything untoward, at least I have this blasted crook."

With that, Elizabeth grabbed the crook and jabbed it in the air like a sword. Satisfactorily armed, she marched out of the room and down the hall. Before she reached the stairs, however, a door swung open, and a woman dressed as a pumpkin came dashing out-right into Elizabeth.

They both hit the carpet with a thud and a flurry of apologies. Elizabeth clambered to her feet, then looked back down at the pumpkin, who was still sitting on her behind.

"Do you need a hand up?" Elizabeth asked.

The pumpkin, who was holding her green mask in her hand, nodded. "Thank you. I'm a bit ungainly these days, I'm afraid."

It took Elizabeth a couple of blinks, but then she realized what the pum-the lady! she had to stop thinking of her as a pumpkin-meant. "Oh, no!" Elizabeth said, dropping to her knees beside her. "Are you all right? Is your…" She motioned to the lady's middle, although it was difficult to tell what was the middle under the pumpkin costume.

"I'm fine," the lady assured her. "Only my pride is bruised, I assure you."

"Here, let me help you up." It was difficult to maneuver the costume, but eventually Elizabeth managed to get the lady to her feet.

"I am terribly sorry for crashing into you," the lady apologized. "It's just that I was running so late, and I know my husband is downstairs tapping his foot, and-"

"It was no trouble. I assure you," Elizabeth said. And then, because the lady was such a friendly pumpkin, she added, "I'm rather grateful to you, actually. This might be the first time I haven't been the cause of such an accident. I'm terribly clumsy."

Elizabeth's new friend laughed. "Since we are so well-acquainted, please allow me to be terribly forward and introduce myself. I am Mrs. Blake Ravenscroft, but I would be most insulted if you called me anything but Caroline."

"I am Miss Elizabeth Hotchkiss, Lady Danbury's companion."

"Good gracious, really? I had heard she could be quite a dragon."

"She's really very sweet underneath. But I shouldn't like to get on her bad side."

Caroline nodded and patted her light brown hair. "Am I mussed?"

Elizabeth shook her head. “No more mussed than one would expect of a pumpkin."

"Yes, I suppose pumpkins can be allowed greater latitude in neatness of coiffure."

Elizabeth laughed again, liking this woman immensely.

Caroline held out her arm. "Shall we go down?"

Elizabeth nodded, and they made their way toward the stairs.

"My stem is definitely off to you," Caroline said with a laugh, lifting her green mask in salute. "My husband spent quite a bit of time here as a child, and he assures me that he is still terrified of Lady Danbury."

"Was your husband friends with her children?"

"Her nephew, actually. The Marquis of Riverdale. I hope to see him this evening, actually. He must be invited. Have you met him?"

"No. No, I haven't. But I heard a bit about him last week."

"Really?" Caroline began to step carefully down the stairs. "What is he up to? I haven't heard from him in over a month."

"I don't know, actually. Lady Danbury held a small garden party last week, and he sent a note asking one of the guests to meet him in London immediately."

"Oooh. How intriguing. And how very like James."

Elizabeth smiled at the mention of the name. She had her own James, and she couldn't wait to see him again.

Caroline stopped on a step and turned to Elizabeth with a very sisterly, and very nosy expression. “What is that about?"

"What?"

"That smile. And don't say you weren't. I saw it."

"Oh." Elizabeth felt her cheeks grow warm. "It's nothing. I have a suitor whose name is also James."

"Really?" Caroline's aquamarine eyes held the gleam of a born matchmaker. "You must introduce us."

"He isn't here, I'm afraid. He is Lady Danbury's new estate manager, but he was recently called to London. Some sort of family emergency, I believe."

"That's a pity. I already feel that we are the truest of friends. I should have liked to have met him."

Elizabeth felt her eyes grow misty. "That was such a lovely thing to say."

"Do you think so? I'm so glad you don't think me too forward. I wasn't raised in society, and I have the most appalling habit of speaking without thinking first. It drives my husband mad."

"I'm sure he adores you."

Caroline's eyes glowed, and Elizabeth knew that hers had been a love match. "I'm so late he's likely to bite my head off," Caroline admitted. "He can be such a worrier."

"Then we had best be on our way." "I cannot wait to introduce you to Blake." "That would be lovely. But first I must find Lady Danbury and make certain she doesn't need anything."

"Duty calls, I suppose. But you must promise that we shall meet up again later this evening." Caroline smiled wryly and motioned to her costume. "I'm fairly easy to spot."

Elizabeth reached the bottom of the steps and unlinked her arm from Caroline's. "It's a promise." Then, with a smile and a wave, she dashed away from the ballroom. Lady Danbury would be out front receiving her guests, and it would be easier to scoot outside the house than to try to battle the crowds within.

"What the hell?" James followed that query with considerably darker and louder curses as he steered his horse around the crush of carriages slowly rolling toward Danbury House.

The masquerade ball. The bloody, annoying, inconvenient masquerade ball. He'd forgotten all about it.

He'd planned the evening to the last detail. He was going to go to his aunt, tell her that he'd failed, that he hadn't been able to flush out her blackmailer, and promise her that he would continue to try, but that he could not put his life on hold while doing so.

Then he would ride out to Elizabeth's cottage and ask her to marry him. He'd been grinning like an idiot the entire ride home, planning his every word. He had thought to take Lucas aside and ask him for his sister's hand. Not that James planned to let an eight-year-old dictate his life, but somehow the thought of including the little boy left his heart warm.

Plus he had a feeling that Elizabeth would be charmed by the gesture, which was probably his true motive in the entire affair.

But he was not going to be able to escape Danbury House this evening, and he certainly wasn't going to be able to gain a private audience with his aunt.

Frustrated with the clog of carriages, he nudged his horse off of the main road and cut through the lightly forested field that ran alongside the main lawn of Danbury House. The moon was full, and enough light spilled through the many windows of the mansion to light his trail, so he didn't have to slow down overmuch as he made his way to the stables.

He took care of his horse and trudged into his little cottage, smiling as he remembered the time he'd caught Elizabeth snooping there weeks earlier. He still hadn't told her about that. No matter; he'd have a lifetime to share and make memories with her.

He tried to ignore the sounds of the party, preferring the peace and seclusion of his temporary home, but he could not ignore the rumblings of his empty stomach. He'd rushed back to Surrey, eager to see Elizabeth, and hadn't stopped for so much as a bite of bread. His cottage, of course, held nothing edible, so he allowed himself one loud curse, and then trudged back outside. With any luck, he could make it to the kitchen without being recognized or waylaid by a drunken reveler.

He kept his head down as he weaved through the crowds spilling out onto the lawns. If he acted like a servant, Agatha's guests would see a servant and, with luck, leave him alone. Lord knew, they wouldn't expect the Marquis of Riverdale to be quite so dusty and rumpled.

He'd passed the edge of the crowd, and was about halfway to his destination, when out of the corner of his eye he saw a blond shepherdess trip over a rock, wave her left arm wildly for balance, and then finally right herself by jamming her crook into the ground.

Elizabeth. It had to be. No other blond shepherdess could be quite so enchantingly clumsy.

She seemed to be scooting along the perimeter of Danbury House, heading for the front. James changed tack slightly and headed in her direction, his heart soaring with the knowledge that she would soon be in his arms.

When had he grown into such a romantic fool?

Who knew? Who cared? He was in love. He had finally found the one woman who could complete his heart, and if that made him a fool, so be it.

He crept up behind her as she scurried toward the front of the house, and before she could hear his footsteps crunching along the gravel, he reached out and grasped her wrist.

She whirled around with a shocked gasp. James watched with delight as her eyes melted from panic to joy.

"James!" she cried out, her free hand reaching out to grab his. "You're back."

He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed them in turn. "I couldn't stay away."

Their time apart had made her shy, and she didn't quite meet his eyes when she whispered, "I missed you."

Propriety be damned. He gathered her into his arms and kissed her. And then, when he could actually force himself to tear his lips from hers, he whispered, "Come with me."

"Where?"

"Anywhere."

She went.