How to best a marquess, p.1
How to Best a Marquess, page 1
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About the Author
Copyright Page
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For those who are like Beth and have fought the good fight and persevered.
Acknowledgments
When you write historical novels, you rely on your people. I mean the friends who write in the same genre. A huge shoutout to my dear friend Dr. Vanessa Riley. When you have a friend with a Ph.D. in mechanical engineering who writes brilliant stories set in the Regency period, you can ask anything about compound engines and receive excellent advice. I couldn’t have done it without her. I’d be remiss in not thanking Elizabeth Essex, who helped me with the mari- time and naval ship terms used in the second book of the Widow Rules series, Rules for Engaging the Earl.
A special shoutout to my plotting partners, Lenora Bell and Charlotte Russell. You both are brilliant!
Thank you to my agents, Kimberly Witherspoon and Jessica Mileo, who were charmed by these three widows. You both are the absolute best. Thank you to Kim Rozzell for her friendship and all her creativity in helping me share my books and ideas with you. I appreciate the team at St. Martin’s Press, who helped me bring the stories of Kat, Constance, and Beth to life. I know Meri appreciates everyone as well!
Thank YOU for spending time with the three wives. My readers are the best in the world.
Finally, my heartfelt gratitude goes to my husband, the author of my romantic life.
Prologue
London, 1808
Chelsfields’ Annual Autumnal Ball
The last notes of the supper waltz hung suspended in the air much like Miss Beth Howell’s heart. In that moment, everything stopped. No one moved.
Yet the ballroom vibrated with energy.
Her life was about to change forever. She could feel it in every pulse, heartbeat, and breath.
Julian Raleah, the Earl of Weyhill and heir to the Marquess of Grayson, would undoubtedly propose tonight. He’d expertly swept her across the dance floor this evening. All the while, his gaze had never left hers. Every one of his smiles had turned the night into something extraordinary.
“Will you accompany me outside?” He kept his voice low so no one could overhear.
“Of course.” Though it was quite scandalous for an unmarried lady to leave the ballroom with a gentleman, this was no ordinary man. Nor was this an ordinary night.
Finally, he let go of her waist, then extended his arm. Together, they exited the ballroom through the double French doors that led outside to the grand terrace.
Beth’s breath caught at the sight of the formal garden. Lanterns glowed on the pathways that framed two long rectangular wading pools blazing with floating candles.
“It looks like stars have fallen from the sky,” she said in awe. The light reflecting off the water made it appear as if they’d stepped into another world.
“Do you like it?” Julian’s voice deepened with a hint of uncertainty.
She took his hand and squeezed. “It’s enchanting.”
A playful smile tugged at both corners of his mouth. “I did this for you. I asked Lady Chelsfield if I could decorate the pools this evening.”
Her heartbeat joyfully tripped in her chest. “What do you mean?”
“I wanted this evening to be stunning … like you.” His smile grew even bigger, promising her that tonight would be memorable in so many ways. “I placed small candles on wooden squares and lit them right before our waltz.”
With her free hand, she playfully tapped him on the arm. “So, this is where you ran off to. No wonder I couldn’t find you for the last hour.” She stepped a little closer. “It’s beautiful, Julian. I’ll never forget tonight for as long as I live.”
He cleared his throat, then turned toward the pool as he squeezed her hand gently. “I’m a little unsettled. I’ve never done this before.” His thumb gently brushed over her knuckles.
“I’m a little nervous too,” she confided. “I don’t think I’ve done this before either.”
“Believe it or not, that makes me feel better.” He took a deep breath. “If we do this together, I think I can manage.”
When he returned his gaze to hers, there was an intensity there that she had never seen before. This was a man who was determined to succeed. She’d always found such a trait attractive, but Julian wore it like a superbly tailored suit. It fit him like a glove, making him even more handsome than ever.
He angled his tall body until he faced her. He reached for her other hand and entwined their fingers together. “Beth, I have something to ask you.”
“Ask away,” she said breathlessly. The thundering in her heart pounded so loud he had to hear it.
He brought their interlaced hands to the middle of his chest. His heart was pounding as hard as hers. “I’ve been calling on you for over three months now. It’s enough time to know what our next step is. I hope you want the same thing as me.” His gray eyes smoldered with longing and desire, almost as if lit from within. “I want us to be together. Forever.”
Good heavens, this was it. She’d known their night together would be special. When she’d received a small bundle of violets and a note from him asking for the supper waltz, she’d suspected he’d propose this evening.
But being in the moment with him was completely different from her expectations. Her heart swelled with emotions that were difficult to explain. Should she immediately answer or wait until tomorrow?
She’d answer immediately. She wanted this more than anything and so did Julian.
Her nervousness grew faint as a newfound sense of contentment filled the air. Even though her father had passed away several years before, his pledge was coming true. He’d promised her that she would have the man of her dreams. And that man stood before her. Starting tonight, they would share a future, create a life together, and raise a family. It was all she’d ever dreamed of.
“I’d very much like to call on your brother tomorrow and ask for your hand in marriage.” Julian’s stalwart gaze never wavered as his voice deepened. “If you’re amenable?”
She shook her head and smiled. She felt like a princess who’d found her charming prince.
“You don’t want to marry me?” His whisky-dark voice lowered. There was a tightness around his eyes that indicated she’d shocked him.
“No. I mean yes.” The words tumbled from her mouth. “I shook my head because I want to remember you standing in front of me and asking me to share your life. I don’t want to forget anything about tonight.” Tears welled in her eyes as her heart pounded to reach him. She squeezed his hand hoping he could see how much this all meant to her. “This is the happiest day of my life.”
He sighed in relief, then chuckled. “I thought you were saying no.” He grew serious again as he pressed her hand against the middle of his chest a bit harder. “This heart is yours. Do with it what you want.”
Her breath caught at his tender and heartfelt words. In return, she pulled their hands to her heart. “And this is yours to do what you want.”
Now they were tied to each other creating a bond, an intimacy, that would never be broken. She was certain of it. Then he brought her wrist to his lips, kissing her throbbing pulse. The softness of his lips contrasted with the evening stubble of his face. With such a sweet gesture, he’d stolen her heart forever.
It didn’t make any difference that she’d just given it to him.
“I adore you,” she said softly. “But I have a request when you see my brother tomorrow to ask for my hand.”
“Anything, my dear Beth.” He smiled against her skin, then his tongue caressed her pulse as if promising her untold delights that they’d share together in the future.
“Ask for my other hand also.” She smiled when he laughed softly, the movement of his lips tickling her.
“This is one of the countless reasons why I want to marry. You always find a way to make me laugh even when I’m nervous.” He released her hands, then took her into his embrace. “Let me share a secret.” He lowered his voice, then pressed his lips against the tender skin below her ear. “I’m greedy when it comes to you, Blythe Elizabeth Howell. When I see your brother, I’ll ask for all of you.”
* * *
Finally, Julian relaxed … just a tad. His beautiful Beth had said yes. That simple word meant that his life would be tied to the woman he held in his arms. He vowed, then and there, that he’d do everything in his power to give her what she deserved. But he had to make certain she understood what their life would be like in the beginning.
“Beth, I’ve been honest about my financial state. I can’t afford a special license. We’ll have to wait three weeks while the banns are called.” He forced his gaze to hers.
“I think special licenses are highly overrated.” She pressed her cheek against his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I prefer waiting. It’ll give me time to tell everyone that you’re the man I’m marrying.”
Only Beth could turn his lack of fortune into something that she preferred. He was the luckiest man in the world to have her as his bride.
Her lips twitched as she tilted her head to regard him. “Plus, that will give us time to visit our rabbits, Beatrice, Bonnie, and Bertram.”
“Of course.” He laughed softly. The first time he’d called upon Beth, they’d walked to Hyde Park with her maid trailing closely behind them. He didn’t have an open carriage to drive her properly through the park, so he had to find other ways of entertaining her. When they’d discovered a warren of nesting rabbits, he’d made up a story about their lives, trying to charm her. Since that day, she always asked about the rabbits. In return, he’d make up some tale about their imaginary lives. He’d woven those stories with his ideas and dreams of their future together.
A beautiful blush darkened her cheeks. “I want to tell them about our marriage.”
“Our marriage.” He spoke the words like a benediction. His fingers brushed the soft skin of her cheek. “I promise I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy. I want you proud to claim me as your husband.”
“If you can’t tell, I’m already proud of you,” she said tenderly with a smile.
Throughout the last several years, he’d always felt as if he was an outsider when he attended these social events. He didn’t wear the latest fashions. He didn’t have a fortune to waste in the card rooms. He didn’t belong to any gentlemen’s clubs. Nor did he have a carriage that proclaimed he was the heir to the impoverished Marquess of Grayson.
That was why it was so hard to believe that the most beautiful and eligible heiress in all of society had agreed to marry him. That simple fact meant she had faith in him.
“Beth, I’ll find a way to make money, so you’ll be able to buy anything you want. I’ve been designing steam engines. One of my ideas, if I can make it work, will revolutionize the mill industry.” The admiration in her eyes made him feel ten feet tall.
Her eyes widened. “How did you learn to do that?”
“I studied physics when I was at university. I’m good at it, Beth. I’ll not stop until I succeed. I’ll be able to pay off all my father’s debts and give you everything you desire.” He held out his arms as if offering her the world. “Gowns, jewels, a fashionable home, and carriages in every color. Anything you want, I’ll provide for you.”
“You can use my dowry to fund your work,” she said softly as she cupped his cheek with her gloved hand. “But money doesn’t buy happiness, Julian. I learned that when I lost my parents. I don’t need or want any of those things. I only want you.”
His heart swelled at the affection in her eyes and the softness of her touch. She believed in him. That was the greatest gift a man like him could ever receive from his partner in life.
“Come. I need to get you back inside before anyone notices how long we’ve been gone.”
“I don’t care,” she declared. “I think we should announce our betrothal tonight.”
He brought one of her hands to his lips. “Not tonight, dearest. I must see your brother first.”
Her radiant smile was brighter than a midsummer’s sun. “St. John will welcome you with open arms. He only wants me to be happy.”
He leaned toward her, and she matched his movement, closing her eyes. Gently, he pressed his lips to hers as he took her into his arms. She fit against him perfectly.
Like his darling Beth, Julian would remember everything about this perfect night.
It was the start of their life together.
Chapter One
London, 1816
The Mayfair home of the Marquess of Grayson
Blythe Elizabeth Howell had enough life experience to know when a situation was hopeless and when to take matters into her own hands.
Determined, Beth marched up the steps of the lovely Palladian manse that belonged to the Marquess of Grayson. Tonight proved that she must create her own future and define her own ideals of a perfect life. No longer would she abide by her brother’s edicts. Nor would she cower behind society’s machinations of her ruined reputation.
The only way to accomplish all of this was to convince the marquess to lend assistance and travel to Hampshire with her.
As soon as possible.
She’d laugh if it weren’t so ironic that she was turning to Grayson for help. Especially since he’d been the one to run from her all those years ago after he’d asked her to marry him.
With her brother insisting she marry again, drastic situations required drastic actions. Beth had vowed tonight that she would no longer delay. She would find the lost dowry that her late husband, Lord Meriwether Vareck, had taken with him when he’d left her after two weeks of marriage.
That dowry represented her freedom.
Her traitorous gaze ventured skyward as she studied the gray brick home that was as intimidating as its owner, Julian Raleah, the Marquess of Grayson.
He’d been the first man to ask her to marry him. She’d fancied herself quite in love with the marquess. Beth had found him honest, polite, with a hint of devilment in his eyes.
When her brother had refused the marriage, Grayson hadn’t tried to convince him. He’d simply left without saying goodbye.
She’d been devastated by his actions. Obviously, the blasted man hadn’t cared for her the way she’d cared for him.
But none of it mattered now. This was business and a chance for her to reclaim her dowry.
He was the one she’d ask for assistance since he was in the same position as she. He needed a fortune and so did Beth.
Yet the heartache still lingered. After Grayson had walked away without even fighting for her, she’d never given any other man the same regard. It was as if she’d become an empty shell of who she once was.
But once she found whatever remained of her dowry, at least her reticule would be full.
Standing in front of the imposing black entrance doors, Beth straightened her shoulders, then knocked. Grayson helping her attain her goal was not a certain outcome. But he was the only person she could turn to.
He didn’t have a wife or a family. Nor did he have any commitments that would require him to remain in London. More importantly, they were not friends. Beth would classify their acquaintance as merely that—confrères who had a past with each other. He would be the perfect partner in her bid to recover her lost dowry.
With a creak, one of the massive oak doors swung open.
“Good evening,” a man said. He must be the butler. In his early thirties with black hair and green eyes, he was dressed in the Grayson livery.
“Is the marquess at home?” Beth nodded as she stepped across the threshold.
“Your name?”
“Beth Howell.”
He nodded, then smoothed his formal livery. “This way, my lady.”
“I’m a miss, not a lady,” Beth corrected him.
One black brow rose a fraction. “Come with me.” After a few steps, he stopped in the hallway. “I apologize for my manners. Lord Grayson rarely has visitors. I should have introduced myself earlier. I’m Cillian Patrick, his lordship’s butler.”
A hint of an Irish lilt colored his voice. But it was the twinkle in his eyes that gave Beth pause. He seemed delighted to have her here.
“Shall we?” Without waiting for her answer, he continued his path down the main hallway.
She followed. Though it was rather dark, there was enough light to see the contrast of faded wallpaper that once had surrounded large paintings or perhaps family portraits. “Is the marquess redecorating?”
An exaggerated sigh of unerring patience escaped Cillian. “In a manner of speaking, Miss Howell.” He stopped outside an open door and waved her in. “Lord Grayson?” His earlier lilt had been replaced with a perfect formal accent. “Miss Howell to see you.”
The Marquess of Grayson glanced up from a journal, methodically replaced a quill pen in its stand, then rose slowly from his desk.
With his great height and massive shoulders, Grayson intimidated most people. His perfectly angular cheekbones appeared sharp enough to cut a diamond. An appropriate comparison as his gray eyes glimmered in recognition. A hint of a smile pulled at his lips. His relaxed manner was in sharp contrast to his black formal wear. All the times she’d ever seen him, it was the only color he wore.
