For the Love of the Marquess (The Noble Hearts Series Book 2) Read online

  The few events she’d attended had been torture. Too many young ladies of the ton had looked upon her with envy when she and Graham had been courting. Tall, handsome, charming, titled, and wealthy, he had been a sought-after potential husband by many debutantes and their marriage-minded mamas.

  Now they viewed her with contempt or worse, pity. No one seemed to know to where Lord Hertford had disappeared, and the rumors began to fly. Of course, she was at the center of all the assumptions.

  Juliet returned from the Bowers soiree with a raging headache. Keeping up the pretense of not caring that Graham was not at her side any longer, or unable to speak with authority as to where he was had taken its toll.

  She stood in front of her mirror and hated the haunted look in her eyes. Her clothes hung on her frame, and her pallor spoke of illness. Stiffening her shoulders, she left her room and went downstairs in search of Papa, who was precisely where she thought he would be.

  Entering his library, she observed him as he sat, staring into the cold fireplace. “Papa?”

  He turned to her with a bright smile. “Ah, my precious daughter. How nice of you to visit me.” Standing in a courtly manner, he held out a chair and motioned for her to take a seat.

  “I was just thinking how quiet everything is here with your sister married and off on her wedding trip.” He sighed and took a sip of his brandy.

  “Yes, Papa, I miss her as well.” She didn’t feel this was the time to remind him that his edict that Elise needed to marry before he would accept suitors for his two younger daughters had something to do with Elise being on her wedding trip.

  “Papa, I would like to ask a favor of you.”

  “Of course, my sweet, what is it?”

  “I find I am tired of the Season. Now that Elise is happily settled, I would like to return to the country.”

  Papa studied her a bit too carefully for her liking.

  “Is everything all right with you, my dear?”

  “Yes. I just wish for some peace and quiet after all the madness of the wedding.” Although that was true, she also felt a strong draw to retire to the place she’d love since she was a child. To lick her wounds.

  “Sweeting, I think you have offered a wonderful solution for us all. Marigold has mentioned a desire to return to the country as well.” He slapped his hands on his thighs and stood. “So be it. We will all return to the Manor as soon as we are packed.”

  Juliet released a sigh of relief, and gave her papa a fierce hug and kiss on the cheek, which had him studying her carefully. Before he could ask any further questions, she turned and left the room. Maybe at the Manor she would be able to put Lord Hertford out of her mind forever. Which seemed precisely what he had done to her.

  Chapter Two

  London, England

  Eight months later

  The Marquess of Hertford handed his invitation to the butler by the head of the stairs at the Crawford ball in celebration of the lord’s youngest daughter’s debut into Society. He scanned the crowd, as he’d done at every event he’d attended in the past week since his return to London society.

  The first thing he’d done upon his return was call at Pomeroy House, but was informed Lady Juliet was unavailable. Three times. He accepted the information the first time, but after two more tries—both times leaving his card with a note scrawled on the back—he began to believe something was amiss.

  Juliet might be upset at his quick departure months ago, but he had left her a note, and followed up with several letters to both her townhouse and country estate. None had been answered.

  It might take some maneuvering on his part, but he would make sure they picked up where they’d left off eight months before. He was anxious to speak with her father and get the marriage contracts drawn up. If anything, being away from her for eight months had convinced him she was the wife he wanted.

  Those months had been difficult in more ways than one. Amy had turned into a weeping, angry young woman, determined to escape his protection at any cost. The problem, of course, was her innocence and complete lack of awareness of how dangerous it would be for her to attempt a return to her family’s estate.

  She begged to go back to Reading Hall and marry the man who had fathered her baby. He doubted very much if whoever had taken advantage of her, had matrimony on his mind. His muscles tightened every time he thought about the scoundrel and what he would like to do to him if given the opportunity.

  Due to those issues, when they arrived at Lady Agneaux’s home in Paris, Graham had been irritated to learn Lord Agneaux was away from home and was not expected for weeks. Afraid if he left Amy in Lady Agneaux’ care alone she would attempt to return to England, he was forced to remain there until Agneaux’s return, which hadn’t been for a good two months after they’d arrived.

  Once back in England, he’d been forced to travel directly to his estate to handle matters that had arisen in his absence. Consequently, he was only able to return to London a mere two weeks ago. And so far, he’d been unable to speak with Juliet.

  He accepted a glass of champagne from a passing footman, and wandered the room, speaking with several people, always watching for Juliet.

  “Oh, my lord, how lovely to see you returned to London.” Lady Catherine smiled brightly at him. She had been one of the young ladies he’d flirted with last Season before he’d discovered his perfect match in Lady Juliet. After that, he’d had eyes for no one else.

  “Good evening, Lady Catherine. I am happy to back among friends.” He bent over her hand and bowed. “I assume you are well?”

  “Yes, I am perfectly fine, my lord.” She tapped him on the arm with her fan. “However, I don’t see your name on my dance card.” She dangled it in front of his face. He grinned and wrote his name next to a cotillion, still hoping to find Juliet in the crowd and have a waltz with her.

  A half hour later, when Graham had decided it might be best to leave and try the other two events being held this evening, his head whipped around at the butler’s announcement of The Right Honorable the Earl of Pomeroy, with Lady Juliet, and Lady Marigold.

  His eyes ate her up. She was thinner than he’d remembered, her face not quite as open and approachable. Juliet had always enjoyed ton events, and took great pleasure in dancing, flirting, and teasing. This woman’s demeanor was almost—for lack of a better word—brittle. He watched her and her family descended the stairs.

  Immediately, she was surrounded by men greeting her and writing their names on her dance card. He took a calming breath, and made his way across the room, cutting short any conversations various guests attempted with him. His focus was solely on the beautiful woman dressed in deep green silk, her lips smiling, her eyes cold.

  It took him a few minutes to make his way through the men still encircling her. Her laughter, once deep and musical, now sounded shrill. Whatever had happened to Juliet?

  She was speaking to Lord Benson on her right when he approached her from the left. Once again, her familiar scent of lilacs wafted over him, bringing back many pleasant memories. “My lady.” His voice was soft, but she must have recognized it because she immediately stiffened, and after a moment, turned in his direction.

  Any suspicions he’d had of her manner being vastly different from what he’d remembered was immediately confirmed as she gave him a steely look. With slightly raised brows, her hostile eyes viewed him and she said, “Lord Hertford, is it not?”

  His mouth dried up and he merely nodded, unable to reconcile his soft, warm, loving Lady Juliet with this woman. “Yes, my lady.” He bowed over her hand. “I would request the honor of a dance.”

  ***

  Shocked beyond measure, and without hesitation, Juliet responded, “I am sorry, my lord. My dance card is full.” Then she turned her back on the cad and walked away, for all intents and purposes giving him the cut direct.

  How dare he walk up to her like he had never abandoned her and then hadn’t contacted her for months? She’d received a letter from h
im that had gone to her townhouse, and then forwarded to the Manor. That letter had merely been a second notification that he’d been called away and would call upon her once he returned. No explanation, no indication what or where had demanded his immediate presence.

  One of the grooms at her estate had a cousin who worked at Graham’s country estate. Although she’d hated to do it, months after she’d returned from London, she had the groom inquire about the lord of the manor at Hertford Place, who had confirmed Graham had not been to his estate for months.

  The answer to her question had been easy. Graham had seduced her, then left for parts unknown, not at all concerned if there had been consequences. Most likely her previous assumption that he’d decided if she was willing to give herself to him without benefit of marriage, she was an easy woman and not worthy of the title of Marchioness of Hertford.

  Since she’d accepted that, why did she now feel as though she were shattering into a million pieces right here in the middle of the Crawford’s ball? It was difficult to get a full breath—curse her stays—and all she could do was stumble through the throng, ignoring those who attempted to speak with her. She needed to reach the ladies’ retiring room, despite the dances that had been promised.

  Holding her head high and pretending all was well, she finally reached the door and entered the room set aside to restore the ladies. Even though she was away from the crowd, she was unable to fall apart since the few ladies already in the room would love more than anything to have something new about which to gossip.

  She sat at one of the dressing tables and with shaky hands fussed with her hair. The face that stared back at her was almost a stranger. She viewed a woman who’d had her heart ripped out and stomped upon, and who would never allow anyone the opportunity to do so again.

  Certainly, she would marry one day. It was inevitable in her world, and her sister Marigold would not be able to marry unless Juliet did first, according to Papa’s edict. Drat that edit. She would be content with a spinster’s life, loving her sister Elise’s children, and avoiding men for the rest of her life.

  After about fifteen minutes, while she calmed herself and allowed the maid to lead her to a swooning couch to rest with a cool lavender cloth on her head, she felt more herself and returned to the ballroom. Thankfully, Graham was not outside the room waiting for her. With any luck, he would have left the ball, never to trouble her again.

  Lord Ambrose approached her as she entered the ballroom. He bowed. “My lady, I believe this is our dance.”

  He led her to the dance floor for a lively country reel which was just the thing to work off the rest of her anxiety. Ambrose was a pleasant man, and had offered a bit of attention to her since the Season had started. He was a viscount, wealthy, and charming. But she’d felt nothing for him when he’d stolen a kiss in a dark garden.

  She had to remind herself that was precisely what she wanted. If she were forced to marry, it would be to a man who she felt affection and respect for, but would never fall in love with. Her heart had been broken, and she intended to keep it that way.

  Over the course of the next hour or so, she spotted Graham several times, always staring at her. She pretended to ignore him, but it was almost as if his eyes bored a hole in her, not allowing her to shake the mixed feelings his scrutiny caused. He led a few women to the dance floor, seemed to only give them cursory attention, his eyes still seeking her out. It had become almost a game. She sought him out, pretending to ignore him, while he searched for her, making his notice obvious to all.

  By the time the final waltz was announced, Juliet was exhausted. More from the strain of the evening, than from activity, despite busy with partners for all the dances. She looked at her dance card. Mr. Billingsley had requested the last waltz. She would look forward to finding Papa in the card room after the dance and ask him to send for the carriage.

  Mr. Billingsley walked up to her, with Graham right behind him. Billingsley bowed. “My lady, I believe this is my dance.”

  Juliet barely heard him, distracted as she was by Graham’s appearance. He placed his hand on Mr. Billingsley’s shoulder. “I would consider it a great favor if you would allow me to steal your partner for this dance.”

  Billingsley looked from her to Graham. Whatever he’d seen in Graham’s eyes was apparently only something men discerned, because he bowed in Juliet’s direction. “If you will excuse me, my lady, I will relinquish you to Lord Hertford.”

  Stunned by the turn of events, Juliet sputtered. “But, my lord, this is your dance.”

  Graham stepped in front of Billingsley, and took her hand, raising it to his lips to offer a kiss. “My lady?”

  Oh, she should kick him in the shin, right here in front of everyone. However, Graham knew she would never create a public scene, practically giving him the cut direct before most likely as far as she would go.

  She dipped her head in acquiescence. “My lord.”

  ***

  Graham breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment, he thought Juliet would ignore her upbringing and refuse to accept his hand. He entwined their fingers as he led her to the dance floor. Pulling her into his arms almost brought him to his knees. The familiar scent of lilacs, her soft warm skin where he placed his hand on her lower back, and the rightness of holding her brought back memories that had him aching.

  “I would like to speak with you in private sometime soon.”’

  “Oh, dear, my lord. I believe my calendar is quite full for the rest of the Season.”

  He drew in a deep breath. “What game are you playing, Juliet?”

  Her face grew red. “Excuse me my lord, but I don’t believe I gave you leave to call me by my first name.”

  Knowing he was probably making things worse, he couldn’t help it. He leaned into her and whispered into her ear. “I remember calling you by your first name while I pleasured you.”

  Her quickly indrawn breath had him bracing for a slap in the face, which he surely deserved. Instead, she tugged to free herself, but he refused to let her go. “No. I apologize, that was completely uncalled for. Please forgive me.”

  The tears in her eyes as she regarded him, with her chin lifted, made him feel many times worse. She shook her head. “I do not wish to make a scene, but I really do not want to finish this dance. Please release me.”

  “I will release you if you agree to accompany me to the patio. Only for a short time.” When she tightened her lips, and gave her head a quick shake, he added, “Please, Juliet. At one time, we meant quite a bit to each other. I think I deserve to speak with you about what happened.”

  “You deserve nothing from me.” Her voice shook and she blinked rapidly to remove the tears from her eyes.

  He hadn’t realized they had stopped dancing until another couple knocked into them. “Excuse us,” he said. He pulled Juliet closer. “Please. We are making a scene. Come with me to the patio. I promise we will stay within view of the other guests.”

  Before she could refuse, or walk away, he took her hand and tucked it under his arm. They stepped around the dancers and reached the French doors opening to the patio. A few couples were taking the night air, so he led her down the steps to the garden below.

  She pulled back. “You said in sight of the other guests.”

  Graham stopped right after the steps ended. “There is a bench over there,” he pointed to a stone bench under a large oak tree. “May we sit?”

  Juliet did not answer, but moved with him when he walked in that direction. “It is a bit chilly out here, my lord. Perhaps we should return to the ballroom.”

  “No. I intend to have my say. Here.” He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders as she sat. Graham leaned his foot on the bench alongside her, studying her face. Yes, he had been correct. Something was wrong with Juliet. A great deal of the sparkle had gone out of her eyes.

  “Am I wrong in believing that you are distressed at my disappearance?”

  Juliet gave a very fake, very shr
ill laugh. “Were you gone, my lord? My goodness, I never noticed.” She turned her head to look at the darkened garden.

  “Juliet. Look at me.”

  She stubbornly ignored him. He reached out and cupped her chin, turning her head toward him. “Yes, I was gone from London for a few months. Then I returned to my estate where I had matters which needed my attention. I have just now returned to London the last couple of weeks.”

  She shrugged as if his explanation was of no importance. He sighed and sat alongside her. “Juliet, please, talk to me.”

  “I have nothing to say to you, my lord.” She stood and shook out her skirts. “It was pleasant seeing you once again. I hope your time in London is enjoyable. Should we meet again at an affair”—she blushed and glanced sideways at her words, which made him smile—“please do not request a dance because I am afraid I will embarrass you by refusing.”

  She turned to go, but he grabbed her hand to stop her, and stood. He placed his hands on her shoulders, and looked her square in the eyes. “Hear me, Juliet. I am not back in London to play games. I once told you I would speak to your father about us, which is something I fully intend to do. As far as I am concerned, nothing has changed. I still want you for my wife.”

  He swore she grew three inches as she stiffened and stared right back at him. “I am sorry to disappoint you, my lord, but seeing as how I will not dance with you, surely you understand I will never marry you.”

  He leaned in. “Yes. You will.”

  She did the same, until their lips were inches apart. “No. I won’t.”

  Instead of continuing the argument, he moved the few inches and covered her lips with his. Before she could react, he wrapped his arms around her, crushing her to his body, plundering her mouth. Warm, sweet, moist. When she opened her lips, most likely to protest, his tongue swept in, tasting tea, champagne, and Juliet. Just as he’d remembered.