Meant for the marquess, p.1
Meant for the Marquess, page 1
Meant for the Marquess
Second Sons of London
Book Seven
Alexa Aston
© Copyright 2022 by Alexa Aston
Text by Alexa Aston
Dragonblade Publishing, Inc. is an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.
P.O. Box 23
Moreno Valley, CA 92556
ceo@dragonbladepublishing.com
Produced in the United States of America
First Edition November 2022
Kindle Edition
Reproduction of any kind except where it pertains to short quotes in relation to advertising or promotion is strictly prohibited.
All Rights Reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
License Notes:
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Additional Dragonblade books by Author Alexa Aston
Second Sons of London Series
Educated By The Earl
Debating With The Duke
Empowered By The Earl
Made for the Marquess
Dubious about the Duke
Valued by the Viscount
Meant for the Marquess
Dukes Done Wrong Series
Discouraging the Duke
Deflecting the Duke
Disrupting the Duke
Delighting the Duke
Destiny with a Duke
Dukes of Distinction Series
Duke of Renown
Duke of Charm
Duke of Disrepute
Duke of Arrogance
Duke of Honor
The St. Clairs Series
Devoted to the Duke
Midnight with the Marquess
Embracing the Earl
Defending the Duke
Suddenly a St. Clair
Starlight Night (Novella)
The Twelve Days of Love (Novella)
Soldiers & Soulmates Series
To Heal an Earl
To Tame a Rogue
To Trust a Duke
To Save a Love
To Win a Widow
Yuletide at Gillingham (Novella)
The Lyon’s Den Series
The Lyon’s Lady Love
King’s Cousins Series
The Pawn
The Heir
The Bastard
Medieval Runaway Wives
Song of the Heart
A Promise of Tomorrow
Destined for Love
Knights of Honor Series
Word of Honor
Marked by Honor
Code of Honor
Journey to Honor
Heart of Honor
Bold in Honor
Love and Honor
Gift of Honor
Path to Honor
Return to Honor
Pirates of Britannia Series
God of the Seas
De Wolfe Pack: The Series
Rise of de Wolfe
The de Wolfes of Esterley Castle
Diana
Derek
Thea
Also from Alexa Aston
The Bridge to Love
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Publisher’s Note
Additional Dragonblade books by Author Alexa Aston
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue
About the Author
Prologue
Tilbury Manor, Durham—February 1809
Lady Julia Birmingham clasped her father’s hand, knowing his time drew near. Her mother sat opposite her, silent tears coursing down her cheeks as she kissed her husband’s hand.
“Please don’t leave me, dearest,” Mama said, holding Papa’s hand to her cheek. “I cannot live without you.”
The Earl of Tilton looked at his wife sadly. “You will go on, my love.”
“I cannot,” she insisted. “I do not want to be without you.”
“Julia . . . has her Season. You must . . . see her wed.”
But Julia knew her come-out would be delayed. She would be in mourning for the man who was her world. It didn’t matter to her. She had never truly been interested in the world of the ton. Though she had enjoyed her trips to London, her heart was in the country.
Papa looked to her. “Wish the title could . . . go to you.”
She wished the same. Julia had spent her entire life as her father’s shadow. Riding out with him to visit tenants. Going over ledgers. Reading journals about raising crops and breeding animals. She knew absolutely everything there was to know about the estate and how to manage it. Unfortunately, English law awarded the title and entailed estates to the eldest son.
That meant Rodney would soon be in charge of Tilbury. What worried her even more was he would also have absolute control over her life and Mama’s. At thirty-five, Rodney rarely came to the country, preferring his fast set of friends in town. He had resented when his father wed a second time to a much younger woman. Rodney’s resentment grew when Julia, their only child, arrived. She didn’t trust her half-brother in the slightest.
The door opened and none other than Rodney strode in, dressed in what she assumed was the latest London fashion. She knew exactly how much his tailoring cost because she saw the bills. Papa had a difficult relationship with his son from his first marriage. As long as the money flowed freely from Papa to Rodney, it had kept an unsteady peace between them.
He came to the foot of the bed and peered at his father. “I am here. As you requested.”
No words of love or support or even encouragement for a dying man. Anger simmered within Julia but she kept silent, not wanting to cause a scene at her father’s deathbed.
Papa blinked a few times and said, “Take care . . . of my girls.”
Rodney cleared his throat. “I will do the right thing. Of that, I can assure you, Father.”
Hearing that, the air—and life—seemed to go out of her father. Julia clung to his hand, tears now streaming down her cheeks. Mama wept softly.
The three watched as the Earl of Tilton took a final breath and expelled it. Then he lay still.
Realizing her husband had moved on, Mama wailed, her upper body falling across his as she clung to him. Her wrenching sobs broke Julia’s heart.
“Quit your bloody blubbering,” commanded Rodney. “You are embarrassing yourself and us.”
Either Mama didn’t hear her stepson or chose to ignore him as she continued weeping.
Julia came to her mother’s defense. “No one is here to hear her, Rodney. She should be allowed to grieve.”
His eyes narrowed. “You will address me as Tilton.”
A chill ran through her. “Of course,” she said, bowing her head so he wouldn’t see the loathing—and fear—in her eyes.
“We will hold the funeral tomorrow afternoon. You will not attend. See to the body and whatever else needs to be done.” With that, the new Earl of Tilton left the room.
Julia allowed her mother time to cry and when her tears were spent, she went to the other side of the bed. Wrapping her mother in an embrace, she said, “Go to your room, Mama. I will send for the doctor. He will give you something to help you sleep.”
Numbly, her mother nodded and left the roo
m. Julia rang for the butler and valet and when they arrived, she told them to take care of her father.
“Lord Tilton wishes the funeral to take place tomorrow afternoon. I will see to the arrangements now.”
Their butler frowned. “Shouldn’t Lord—”
“His lordship requested that I handle the details.”
“I see. Very well, Lady Julia.”
She exited the room, going downstairs and sending one footman to summon the doctor and another the local clergyman. She longed to go to Papa’s study so that she might sit in his chair and breathe in the scent of tobacco that hovered in the room but she knew she would not be welcomed there.
Once the doctor arrived, she told him the situation and asked that he give her mother some laudanum to calm her. The clergyman arrived and she met with him in a small parlor, discussing the particulars of tomorrow’s service.
“Lord Tilton will be greatly missed, Lady Julia. He was highly thought of by all.”
She thanked him and spent the rest of the afternoon arranging to have a coffin sent to Tilbury Manor, as well as speaking with Cook about preparing food for the guests that would surely return to the house after the funeral. She understood that oftentimes females did not attend funerals but she wished she could be present at Papa’s gravesite to tell him farewell. Going to the graveyard after they entertained the expected guests might be better, she supposed. She could then say her goodbyes in private and place flowers upon his grave. The hothouse had been his favorite place and she knew exactly what blooms to choose.
Julia checked on her mother and found her fast asleep, her cheeks and the pillowcase stained with tears. Retiring to her own bedchamber, she sat in a chair, worry filling her. She wasn’t concerned about missing the Season. What did upset her was how brusque Rodney had been. No, Tilton. He would be a stickler for hearing her recognize him by his title. She would not make that mistake again. She would need to make certain Mama also understood that they walked a fine line now. Yes, Tilton had promised to take care of them—but she still didn’t trust him.
She assumed he would banish them to the dower house, which would suit her. Staying at Tilbury Manor with the new earl would be unpleasant. Julia also supposed he would attend the Season with finding a bride in mind. Though in his mid-thirties, Tilton had never considered settling down but she knew he would think of his obligations now in providing an heir.
She thought of the beautiful wardrobe that had already been created for her. Mama had sent to London for a seamstress who had been sewing away the past two months, creating wonderful gowns for Julia’s come-out. She would simply wear them next Season. She and Mama would go to town and Julia would find a husband, one who would also agree for Mama to come live with them. Better yet, Mama was three years shy of forty. She might even find a husband of her own. She was still a beautiful woman, with the same silvery-blond hair and azure eyes she had passed along to her daughter.
The thought soothed Julia. She rang for a maid and prepared herself for bed though it took a long time for sleep to come.
*
Julia’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much. So many people sought her out, telling her what a wonderful man her father was and how much the community would miss him. She had always known Papa was a good man but the outpouring of love for him made her proud to be his daughter.
She thanked the last guests for coming and saw them to the drawing room door, ready to collapse. Locating her mother, she saw how fragile Mama looked and went to her.
“Why don’t I send for some tea, Mama? Better yet, we could take it in your room.”
Tilton, who had been staring out the window, came toward them. “We must talk.”
“Shall I send for tea first?” she asked.
“No.”
Cold fear filled her belly as she led her mother to a settee and sat beside her, slipping her hand around her mother’s cold one. Tilton moved closer to them, his hands clasped behind his back. He did not take a seat.
“Changes will be made now that I am the earl,” he began, studying them carefully.
Surprisingly, Mama spoke up. “I know we are in your way here, Rodney. We can move to the dower house.”
His mouth tightened. “It is Tilton, Madam. You are to address me that way in the short time left.”
“Left?” Julia questioned, her eyes narrowing.
“You will be leaving Tilbury.”
“Oh!” Mama said. “I had not thought of us still going to London. You see, Julia will not be making her come-out, my lord, due to our being in mourning. But if you wish us to be in town, we would be happy to go with you when you return. It is important for family to remain together, especially as we mourn. I know you will now look to the Season in order to find a bride so that you may get an heir.”
“You foolish woman!” Tilton said harshly, stunning the both of them. “You are and have never been family to me.”
Julia maintained her composure as she said, “You promised Papa you would take care of us, Tilton.”
He snorted. “I promised nothing to that old fool. I told him I would do what was right and I intend to keep to that.”
“We are family, Tilton,” Mama insisted. “I was wed to your father for almost twenty years. And Julia is your half-sister.”
“You are nothing to me!” he roared, marching toward them and glaring down at them. “You are imposters. He loved my mother. My mother. Not you. You sashayed about and caught his eye and he wed you because the fool thought he could recapture his youth. But you are not and never will be my family. I want you gone from here.”
Julia clutched her mother’s hand. “We said we would go to the dower house. We will not bother you being there.”
Tilton shook his head. “You are just as foolish as he was. The dower house is not for you. Neither is the London townhouse. Everything is mine now. Do you understand?”
She saw the blank look on her mother’s face as Mama asked, “But where would you like us to go, Tilton?”
“Straight to hell would be preferable,” he said. “Pack your things and first thing tomorrow morning, I will have the carriage take you into the village. From there, you can catch a mail coach to London. I hear there are plenty of agencies that employ impoverished gentlewomen. You can become a companion or governess.”
“You are removing us from our home?” Julia asked, knowing the die had already been cast and not caring that what she now said would anger him.
“My home. Not yours. You are to leave all Tilton jewels behind. Don’t think you can sneak anything into your luggage and sell it once you reach London.”
“And how are we to pay for tickets on the mail coach?” she demanded. “We have nothing other than the pin money Papa gave the both of us.”
He frowned. “I had not considered that. Very well, I will provide enough to pay for tickets to London.”
“More than that, my lord. London is far to the south and the journey will be long. We will need ample funds for meals and lodging.” She paused. “If you don’t provide this, I will be certain your name is blackened in the village before we leave. And when we arrive in London, I will do the same. By the time you arrive for the Season, the gossip will have spread everywhere. How you turned out your stepmother into the cold. How you—”
“Enough!” Tilton cried.
“I also want my dowry,” she said firmly.
“You receive a dowry when you wed a man of my choice,” he snapped. “Considering you will be working for a living and not frittering away your time with bachelors of the ton, I doubt you will wed. And if you do, I will not have granted you permission. Therefore, the dowry is mine.”
Julia started to protest but he held up a hand. “I have already discussed this matter with a solicitor. You are guaranteed nothing. Feel safe to assume that you will never see a farthing of that money.”
Fury filled her. She leaped to her feet. “You are as despicable as they come, Tilton. Papa would be ashamed of having produced such a vile, wicked man. I will loathe you until the day you die—and dance on your grave when you are in it.”
She turned and clasped her mother’s wrist, bringing her to her feet. “Come, Mama. We have packing to do.”
Leading her mother from the room, Julia was too furious to speak. They arrived at her mother’s bedchamber.
“Ring for a maid, Mama. Pack only essential things. The mail coaches are crowded and we will not be able to take much with us.”
