C*cky Marquess by Annabelle Anders

Chapter 14

As promised, Collette kept Diana’s secret to herself once they returned to the changing room and hadn’t said a word about it even after they’d driven back to Byrd House and taken tea.

So, when after dinner, Diana heard the door to the music room open and close; she was not surprised at the interruption.

“What are you thinking?” Collette lowered herself to sit on the floor, legs crossed beneath her gown.

Diana had known Collette wouldn’t keep her concerns to herself for much longer, yet she didn’t answer right away and instead went right on doing her stretches and practicing her leaps to the music in her head.

Partly because she didn’t have any answers.

“What are you going to do?” Collette persisted.

Diana bent at the waist and swept her arm in an arc around her feet. “I don’t know.” She rose and stretched toward the high ceiling. “There’s nothing that I can do.” The situation was hopeless.

Several minutes passed with only the sound of Diana’s slippered feet moving around the parquet floor, Collette looking on thoughtfully.

“I want to do something,” Diana eventually admitted. “But I don’t know what.”

She spun herself in circles on one foot and then finally came to a halt.

“Was the ribbon really the reason you went back into the water? Or had you made an assignation with him?”

“I really lost the ribbon.” In fact, Diana had been more than a little startled when she’d discovered him there upon her return. He had removed his shirt, and she’d been unable to drag her stare from his torso and arms. “But… I was not disappointed to find him there.”

“Do you love him?”

Diana closed her eyes and then held her fist to her mouth. She loved it when he touched her, when he laughed with her, but most of all, she loved the way he held her gaze as though he was reading her mind and liked what he saw there.

“Does it even matter?” All afternoon she’d replayed moments she’d spent with him over and over in her head. Even those times when they had not been alone, such as when he’d placed his hand on her thigh to comfort her at Bethany’s dinner party.

Collette stared at her with all seriousness, and when she spoke, it was only a whisper. “It might.”

But it didn’t.

Diana crossed the floor and dropped down beside her sister. “I’ve lost sight of what I want. I’m jealous of your determination to teach. I’m jealous that Chase is prepared to do whatever he must to help you find a prestigious position when my wish to become a dancer is not even worth discussing.”

“I thought you’d decided that you wanted to marry. Have you changed your mind?”

“What is a marriage supposed to look like?” Diana asked theoretically.

She’d set her sights on Captain Edgeworth, and then Lord Greystone barreled into her life. And now… She’d all but forgotten what the captain even looked like.

“I thought I would be happy enough to simply marry. It would make Bethany so happy, and I wouldn’t have to go on being a burden to Chase for the rest of my life. And I figured Captain Edgeworth was as good as anyone. But driving with him was… nothing like I’d hoped it would be. And I don’t think I’m cut out to follow the drum. I rather enjoy sleeping in a warm bed with a ceiling over my head. I rather enjoy waking up to chocolate and biscuits that I don’t have to cook. And this might sound terribly selfish, Collette, But I don’t think I want to be courted by the captain at all. Not when I’m having all these feelings for Lord Greystone.”

“But the marquess isn’t actually courting you, is he?” Collette’s smile was apologetic. “Although if he isn’t courting you, I’m not sure what to call it.”

Diana sprawled backward onto the floor, staring at the chandelier that sparkled against the gilded ceiling. “Neither do I.”

“Mother would know what to call it.” Collette lay back on the floor beside her. “Although, if anyone else had walked in on the two of you, he’d have to marry you or else…”

“Or else what?”

“Your Lord Greystone would have to meet Chaswick on a field of honor… Or should I call him Zeke?” Collette sent Diana a teasing sideways glance.

“You heard.” Diana accused.

Diana vaguely remembered that she had called the marquess by his given name while he’d been kissing her, good heavens, she’d moaned it! Heat crept up her neck.

When she was lying in bed, alone, thinking of him, the name “Zeke” was the one that popped into her head.

He was not the marquess, or Lord Greystone, Ezekiel, or even Greys. But, in her imagination, in her dreams…

He was Zeke.

And in her imagination, Zeke was hers.

“You weren’t exactly quiet, sloshing around like that.” Her sister giggled.

“How long were you watching before you said anything?” Diana turned her head on the floor to study Collette’s profile.

Seeing her older sister’s cheeks pink up was not at all a common occurrence. Collette slipped her hand into the pocket of her skirts and withdrew her ever-present tin of comfits. She popped one into her mouth and then held the open container out for Diana to take one. Obviously, she would rather distract Diana from this discussion now that she had become the focus of it.

“How long?” Diana sucked on the mint candy while waiting for her sister’s answer.

“Not even a minute.” Collette closed the tin and slid it back into her large pocket. “And in my defense,” she added. “Once I begin teaching, it’s not as though I’ll have any opportunities to experience anything like that myself.”

Diana shook her head, mortified but also resigned. Her sister had seen everything.

“You certainly aren’t shy, are you?” Collette laughed.

But Diana couldn’t help but worry about her older sister. “Are you sure you want to teach? You don’t have to,” What was she going to do without her sister to talk to every day? A needling pang pierced her heart at the prospect.

“I do, Diana. And for the record, you are not selfish. I couldn’t follow the drum either. Our father may not have acknowledged us publicly, but he made certain we never lacked for any of the essentials—plus a few luxuries—a roof over our heads, hot food. So I doubt I’d be willing to give any of those things up either.”

“It’s just so… primitive. Although I might consider it for—” ” Diana couldn’t bring herself to say his name out loud. What did it mean that the prospect of sleeping in a tent with the marquess wasn’t at all off-putting?

The two girls fell into another silence. They seemed to have been doing a lot of that lately. Perhaps it was because of the looming changes in their lives. They appreciated one another now. In fact, they had hardly bickered at all since the season commenced.

“I think you need to do something that will force him to reevaluate his choices.” Collette’s suggestion surprised her.

“But he—"

“Even before you went to retrieve your ribbon, he was watching you—during our lessons.”

“Watching me? Watching me how?”

Collette scrunched up her face and then narrowed her eyes to glower in Diana’s direction. At the startling expression, Diana laughed. “That settles it. He hates me.”

“No! I’m not doing it right.” Collette tried again, this time placing her hand over her heart.

“So, he is a grandmother now?” Diana teased.

Collette waved a hand through the air. “How do you expect me to imitate a besotted marquess? I’m not the performer of the family, after all.”

“Besotted?” That was an accurate description of her own feelings. “Really?”

“Oh, yes. And the marquess barely left your side from the moment he saved you from drowning.”

If Diana hadn’t been so self-conscious with her brother and Bethany there, she would have enjoyed it more—teased the marquess even—flirted with him.

“What would you do?” she asked.

Collette pursed her lips, her brows furrowed in thought. “I would consider having a heart-to-heart talk with him. No dissembling allowed.”

“Yes. But to do that, we’d need privacy. And you know I wouldn’t do anything to compromise myself into marriage. Not only is it a debasing circumstance for both parties, but I refuse to become an aristocrat’s marital duty.” She grimaced. “Not that I’d know what that meant—other than sitting at home while your husband seeks enjoyment elsewhere. Look what that did to father’s wife.”

“Chase would never do that to Bethany,” Collette reminded her.

“But they are different.” Their brother was absolutely, unreservedly, in love with his wife.

“It’s a shame you couldn’t go over to his townhouse and talk with him.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Diana agreed.

“I’m only joking, Diana.” Collette turned with a jerk.

“I know.” Would he send her away? “I’d likely just end up doing something scandalous with him.” It was a shame that she couldn’t become a mistress.

“I mean it,” Collette stressed her point. “I was only joking.”

“I know.”

* * *

As much asGreys wanted to, as his conscience insisted, he did not visit Chaswick at Byrd House the morning following the debacle in Blackheart’s swimming bath.

Of course, not going didn’t mean he wasn’t going to make that visit eventually, but if he’d learned one thing by having three of his female relatives living at Knight house that spring, it was that ignoring a lady’s request resulted in more trouble than it was worth.

He had, however, several other notable obligations to attend to, such as reports to read, letters to write, partial betrothal agreements to extricate himself from, and most ironically, he’d promised Lady Isabella he’d escort her through Hyde Park that afternoon.

Ignoring that it felt all wrong, but also knowing he couldn’t very well cry off, he’d dutifully collected the young woman at the designated time in his open barouche. Chaperone in tow, Lady Isabella had sat beside him looking very young and very pretty. And she had exhibited the utmost propriety, greeting all the notable members of the Ton as he’d driven at a snail’s pace through the park during the fashionable hour.

Lady Isabella would have fulfilled every expectation he’d had for a wife. She was soft-spoken, elegant, and…

She was dreadfully dull, which was just as he’d hoped. Because with boredom, he had suspected he’d also have peace.

But, sadly, it was not to be.

And as he returned lady Isabella to her father’s house, he’d not requested that she reserve a dance for him at any of the upcoming balls, nor had he invited her driving again. He was going to have to meet with her father eventually, and he doubted that meeting would end up a pleasant one.

As the door to Huntly’s townhouse closed behind him, Greys refused to compare his current state of mind with the damn near physical pain he felt each time he had to part with Diana. His carefully ordered life was collapsing around him, and nothing made sense anymore.

Thoroughly annoyed with himself, he arrived back at Knight House determined to dismiss all thoughts of women for what remained of the evening. Several of his cohorts intended to join him after dinner for a rousing game of poker, and he would lose himself in cigars, gambling, and an abundance of scotch.

And not necessarily in that order.

Yes. Such an evening was just the ticket.

Typically, they might have spent the evening at White’s, but with Blackheart committed to performing his role as butler, they had decided to set up the game in Grey’s billiard room instead.

Unfortunately, as it turned out, the game wasn’t quite the reprieve Greys had anticipated.

Because, with half the participants reveling in wedding bliss, of course, the conversation would center around women.

“Let’s not waste time. I promised my wife I wouldn’t be out all night.” Spencer announced before they were even started.

“When are you and Lady Tabetha leaving town again?” Westerley asked as he removed his jacket and began rolling up his sleeves.

“After my mother’s ball. She’d disown me if Tabetha and I failed to make an appearance.” Spencer grimaced as he scooped up his cards. “We’ll head down to Brighten the morning after, see how my brother is faring.”

“It is awfully quiet around here without Peter plucking away at his cello,” Westerley observed.

One of Stone Spencer’s younger brothers, Peter Spencer, had been awarded an apprenticeship with England’s most applauded cellist. And as Peter was practically married to his instrument, the opportunity all but sealed his position as the only bachelor in the Ravensdale family.

Spencer glanced up at Greys. “Tabetha said she saw you driving with Lady Isabella today. She said the lady looked rather like the cat who’d caught the canary. I was rather hoping you’d changed your mind about her.” The jackanapes scowled as he tossed his coins in for the ante.

“Leave him be,” Westerley stared over his cards. “She’s perfect for him. The lady possesses all the virtues our marquess has extolled for as long as I can remember.”

“True,” Spencer nodded. “Passably pretty, quiet, elegant. Biddable but also able to hold her own as a marchioness.” The familiar words sounded somewhat ridiculous when recited thusly.

“Don’t forget she comes from a line that goes back nearly four hundred years,” Westerley said around the cigar in his mouth. One of the brands Chaswick, who was spending the evening at home with his wife, kept stocked at Knight house as needed.

“I know that’s always my highest priority when I climb into bed.” Spencer laughed.

“Now, now, not everyone is willing to enter a love match.” Westerley defended Greys, although Greys suspected his friend was mocking him.

Westerley, Stone, and Blackheart all showed their cards. Greys had to glance at them twice, startled to realize that his were the worst of all. By his calculations, his cards had put the odds in his favor.

Only. All he’d had was a full house. What the devil had he been thinking?

He scowled as he watched Stone’s hands, more than a little beat up from boxing, scoop up the pot.

“Getting some sparring in, I see.” Greys would change the subject.

“A little. However, I’ve had to try out a few new partners since Mantis took off for the country. Dashed inconvenient sod.” But they all frowned at what their friend had endured before he’d left town. “That was a match I never saw coming.”

“A love match,” Westerly added. “I, for one, am relieved for it.”

“I’ve no doubt of that,” Greys said. Because Westerley had jilted Lady Felicity, now Lady Crestwood, earlier that year. So, of course, the man would be pleased to know she was happily settled. “But enough romantic drivel. What is this, a knitting party?”

The other three men at the table chuckled.

“Feeling left out?” Spencer leaned back, lighting his cigar. “You seem to be rather taken with one of the Miss Joneses in the pool yesterday.”

Dash it all.

Greys refused to be goaded. “Chaswick’s sisters are lovely young ladies.”

“Particularly the younger one?”

Greys would stay as close to the facts as possible. Because these gentlemen had known him for a very long time and dissembling amongst them wasn’t an easy feat.

Not that they were inclined to judge one another, but these fellows could be ruthless when the situation merited it.

“I’m performing a favor for Chaswick—help her to feel welcome in the ton. Diana was feeling rather neglected. So I figured it might help if someone pretends to be taking an interest in her.” Guilt pricked Greys at disclosing he and Diana’s scheme even though he could trust these men not to blab it around the Ton

But he was no longer pretending, was he?

“Diana, is it?” Spencer shot Greys an incredulous glance.

“Best not to make it too believable.” Westerley offered. The earl grimaced at his cards, tossed a chip into the pot, and then made a cracking sound with one of his knuckles. Which meant the man’s cards were shite.

Greys studied his own hand, mentally calculating their worth. At the same time, he wondered why Westerley’s opinion irritated him.

“Lord and Lady Huntly cannot be all that pleased at your charade,” Westerley added.

“Nothing has been made official on that front,” Greys said as he upped the ante.

“It didn’t look like you were merely pretending to be interested yesterday,” Spencer tossed in his chips. Without Mantis present to point out the obvious, it seemed Spencer would do that instead.

“Isn’t that the general idea?” Greys leaned back in his chair as though the topic already bored him.

“Not when there aren’t any other gentlemen to provoke by doing so.” Spencer insisted.

Greys chose not to comment on that. He could argue that the feigned affection was a matter of fulfilling his promise. But protesting would only draw further attention to something he’d rather not discuss.

Because thanks to the promise he’d made to Diana, he couldn’t divulge that his intentions had changed.

“If I was to hazard a guess,” Blackheart finally spoke up as he stared at Greys over the rim of his snifter.” His lordship wasn’t faking anything.”

Damned Blackheart. They ought to have gone to White’s, after all.

“Call,” Westerley said, and over the next few minutes, Greys stacked his winnings while Spencer shuffled the deck and then tossed out the new hands.

“Are you attracted to her, then?” Spencer returned to the original subject.

“Miss Diana Jones is a lovely lady,” Greys answered without really answering.

But Westerley ignored his cards by now, tapping them on the table and staring across the table at Greys. “You aren’t yet married to Lady Isabella.” The earl wasn’t speaking in jest. As a man who had himself all but broken a decades-long betrothal contract to marry for love, he had some knowledge on the subject.

Greys placed his cards faced down and scrubbed a hand down his face, giving up all semblance that he was indifferent to his situation. “I know.”

“So, you are attracted to her, to Miss Diana Jones,” Spencer confirmed.

“He is,” Blackheart responded, leaning back in his chair. “But he isn’t happy about it.”

“Dash it all. I’m not happy about it. She’s Chaswick’s sister.”

“His illegitimate sister,” Westerley added.

The crux of the matter.

Wasn’t it?

Greys exhaled a frustrated breath.

“But she also happens to be a lady,” Spencer said. Silence fell in the room as all four of them contemplated Greys’ rather twisted predicament.

“You’ve two options.” It was Westerley who finally spoke into the silence. “End this pretend game you’ve arranged. From what I hear, she’s already caught Edgeworth’s attention. Forget about your feelings for her in favor of focusing your attention on Lady Isabella.”

“And the second option?” Greys didn’t like the sound of Westerley’s first suggestion, even though it would mean going ahead with his original plan.

“Allow your heart to rule your head for once and tell Chaswick you wish to court Lady Diana with real intentions.”

“Impossible.” He answered instinctively.

His aunt was going to have apoplexy, and his grandfather must be spinning in his grave.

Miss Diana did not have the makings of a marchioness. Even worse, she could make him laugh one moment and then scare the hell out of him the next. The mere idea of inviting such chaos into his life appalled him.

And yet a part of him wasn’t appalled at all…

“I’d have said the same about Tabetha a few weeks ago,” Spencer offered. “Remember, in the end, Greys, you—not your aunt, not your grandfather, you and you alone will have to live with this decision.

This was an unusually serious discussion to be having over a game of cards.

“And your opinion, Blackheart?” Greys might as well hear from them all.

The duke crossed his arms and sent him a level stare. “Whether you decide to leave her be or court her, make up your mind soon. You’re an ass to string both ladies along much longer.”

Greys knew that.

He scrubbed his hand down his face a second time.

Dash it all, he knew that.