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  The Marquess Meets His Match

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  The Marquess Meets His Match

  A Novel

  By Julie Coulter Bellon

  This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is purely coincidental. The opinions and views expressed herein are the responsibility of the author.

  Copyright 2019 by Julie Coulter Bellon.

  Published by Stone Hall Books

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any manner or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotation in critical reviews and articles.

  The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without written permission of the author is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s right is appreciated.

  Cover Design by Steven Novak Illustrations

  Acknowledgments

  I am so grateful to my family, friends, and fans who have waited so patiently for this book. It started out as a novella, but I quickly realized it needed to be a full novel. That took a lot longer to write than I imagined, but it kept me going when people would ask about it and be excited to read it. I hope it lives up to expectations!

  I need to thank Jeni, Becky, Jodi, and Annette who were such a great support and read this book in several stages and through all kinds of changes. You guys are truly the best and I appreciate you more than I could ever say.

  As always, my SWAT team is amazing and I am so grateful for all their help.

  And my biggest thanks goes to my family who listen to my plot points, give suggestions, and always cheer me on. I love you!

  Table of Contents

  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

  Sneak Peek of A Highlander’s Hidden Heart

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  LADY ALICE HUNTINGDON scanned the ballroom again as she moved through the steps of the quadrille, her gaze quickly flicking over the flower arrangements and ice sculptures her mother, the Duchess of Huntingdon, had ordered for the ball tonight. The white lilies and blush roses were beautiful and fragrant, contrasting with the kaleidoscope of ball gowns that swirled before her. Alice wasn’t looking at the women, however. Her eyes searched the gentlemen who had assembled, needing to find Lord Pembroke. Had he arrived and not been announced? She was determined to have his name on her dance card for the supper dance. Then she’d be guaranteed to have some time to speak with him as he led her into supper.

  Her current partner took her gloved hand as they came back together in the dance. “The weather is exceedingly fine tonight, don’t you agree?” Lord Huntley squeezed her fingers, a hopeful smile on his face.

  Alice sighed inwardly. She didn’t want to give him any reason to think she’d welcome his attentions as a suitor. He had the right pedigree and was someone her father would ask her to consider if he made an offer, but she’d come to the conclusion that she wasn’t suited for marriage. To anyone. “Why, yes, it is. The breeze from the terrace doors is quite refreshing.”

  She used the mention of the terrace doors as an excuse to discreetly glance around the room again just as Lord Pembroke was announced. He’d finally arrived. She let out a sigh of relief. He was the last person who had talked to Thomas Norwich, and she needed to know what their reportedly heated conversation had entailed. Thomas hadn’t been seen alive again, and his body was pulled from the Thames this morning. She hadn’t let herself think too hard on his murder yet. This was the first time someone she knew personally had been killed and, while her emotions were involved, she needed to stay professional. When she found his killer, then there would be time to remember him properly.

  Unfortunately for her, her intelligence-gathering this evening had had limited results. She’d gotten all the details she could want about the latest on-dit that Lady Jane Wakefield had been betrothed to Viscount Farleigh. The viscount was old enough to be her father and had been married twice already. He had no heir, however, and was anxious to produce one. Sympathy had filled Alice at the news, but it was not the information she’d been looking for. Tonight, she needed to learn who had killed Thomas and why.

  The dance ended and Alice smiled prettily at Lord Huntley. “A pleasure, my lord.”

  He patted her hand that she’d placed on his sleeve as they made their way back to her mother. “The pleasure is mine, my lady.”

  They made their way slowly through the throng of people to the edges of the ballroom, and Alice leaned into him just enough that their conversation wouldn’t carry. “Did you hear the unfortunate news about the Earl of Moreland’s third son? Some think he was accosted on his way home from his club early this morning.”

  Lord Huntley frowned. “I did. A terrible business.” He tapped her on the nose, as if she were a girl fresh from the schoolroom. “And not something for a lady’s ears,” he lightly admonished her. “Shall I fetch a lemonade for you?”

  Alice gritted her teeth, but smiled up at him. “That would be lovely.”

  Once they reached her mother’s side, Lord Huntley bowed over her hand. “I will return shortly with your refreshment.”

  Alice dipped her chin, watching him for a moment before turning to her mother. The duchess looked regal this evening in her turquoise gown and turban. The ensemble made her stand out in any crowd. “Mother, I—”

  But her mother cut her off, tilting her head toward the impeccably dressed man beside her. “Lord Wolverton, while we are waiting for the duke to return, may I make known to you my daughter, Lady
Alice Huntingdon.”

  Alice almost started with surprise, but held her reaction in. Lord Wolverton hadn’t been seen at any society events since he’d been called home from war three months ago. His elder brother had been killed in a horseback riding accident, and his father, the Duke of Colborne, had suffered a severe apoplexy soon after. Lord Wolverton had been given the title of marquess, which his brother had held, but he would be the new Duke of Colborne when his father passed. He had understandably been in near seclusion since his return, but that fact had fanned the gossip.

  Some said the new marquess was hideously scarred from the war and couldn’t be seen in public. Others said he locked himself in his father’s study and had been in a constant state of drunkenness since his return, barely able to stand. Obviously neither of those things was true. He was standing in front of her, presumably sober, since her mother had deemed him fit for introduction, and definitely wasn’t hideously scarred, though there were two small white scars near his left ear and eyebrow. The edges looked ragged, and if Alice had to guess, they were from a small, dagger-like knife wound. Whoever had treated him, though, had known what they were doing. The scars were barely noticeable unless one was looking very close.

  Alice quickly dropped her eyes and dipped into a low curtsy. “My lord.”

  When Lord Wolverton didn’t respond, she rose with surprise. He was looking behind her, obviously distracted by something. A flush crept up her neck as her mother cleared her throat.

  The sound snapped Lord Wolverton’s gaze back to them. He hastily took Alice’s gloved hand and kissed the back of it. “My lady,” he murmured. When he straightened, he stole another quick glance around the room. Was he looking for someone in particular? Another lady, perhaps?

  “Am I keeping you, Lord Wolverton?” Alice asked sweetly, barely able to hide her annoyance. She didn’t have time to deal with an arrogant marquess. She needed to find Lord Pembroke and make sure his name was on her dance card.

  Then Lord Wolverton’s deep-blue eyes fixed on hers and for a moment she forgot why she was out of sorts with him. “Please excuse me, Lady Alice. I’ve behaved intolerably. Would you grant me this dance and allow me to make amends?”

  His velvety voice stirred something deep within her, a prickly awareness stealing over her shoulders and down her spine. His eyes searched hers, as if he knew his effect on her. His lips curved slightly. Alice’s pulse started to pound.

  Her mother’s sharp elbow in her side brought her back to the present, reminding her of his invitation. “I'd be delighted, my lord," she murmured. Placing her hand on his arm, she looked up at him, but he wasn’t paying her or her mother the least bit of attention. His eyes were searching the crowd again. Who could he be looking for, and why did it matter so much?

  They were nearing the dance floor when Wolverton’s hand tightened over hers. “Lady Alice,” he said, turning to look down at her. “Would you mind terribly if we took a turn about the terrace instead?”

  He had an odd tone to his voice, with an anxious edge to it. Perhaps the person he was looking for was outside. If so, she would accompany him to the terrace, then happily leave him to his search and return to the ballroom to seek out Lord Pembroke. “Very well.”

  He practically pulled her through the terrace doors, as if in a great hurry. Alice walked as fast as she could without tripping over her skirts. What was going on? Lord Wolverton was acting very strangely. But all of that was forgotten when she spotted Lord Pembroke on the far side of the terrace. Now was her chance. She only needed to get rid of the man by her side.

  “My lord,” she said, breathlessly. “There is a bench just to our right. May I sit for a moment?”

  He looked in the direction she’d indicated before he let out what sounded like a sigh of relief. “Yes, that’s a brilliant idea.” He led her to the bench where she sat down and arranged her skirts.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Alice could see Lord Pembroke standing alone near the corner of the house. What was he doing? Was he waiting for someone? She needed to stay out on the terrace and see, which meant she had to think of something to talk about with Lord Wolverton.

  “I miss the country where you can see the stars,” she said, softly, raising her face to the darkened sky, careful to keep Pembroke in the periphery of her vision.

  Wolverton was quiet for a moment. “When I was in Spain, the stars seemed so bright at night, as if someone had dropped a million diamonds on a black velvet cloak.”

  His words hung in the air, and she turned to him in surprise. The thread of pain in his voice was hard to miss. Did his memories of the war haunt him like they did so many others? “How long were you in Spain?”

  He stared at her for a moment as if debating his answer, then turned toward the garden path. “Too long. Are you cold, my lady? Should we return to the ballroom?”

  Alice glanced at where she’d last seen Pembroke, but in the moments she’d focused on Wolverton, he’d disappeared. Drat. “Yes, my mother will probably be looking for me,” she agreed.

  They’d just passed the hedges on the edge of the terrace when Pembroke appeared in front of them. “Wolverton,” he said with a nod. “Lady Alice.” He took her hand and bowed over it, giving her an appreciative smile and a wink. “A pleasure to see you again.”

  At the wink, Alice felt the muscles in Wolverton’s arm stiffen, but he quickly relaxed. “Pembroke,” he said. “I’ve been looking for you. Now that I’m back in London, I wanted to talk to you about going to Tattersall’s. I find my stables don’t have anything like the horses I had in Spain, and I’d like to see what England has to offer.”

  Pembroke barely spared Wolverton a glance. “Of course, of course. But first, Lady Alice, if you are not already spoken for, may I have the next dance?” He tilted his head and raised a brow as if daring her to accept.

  Alice smiled. She couldn’t have planned it any better. “I’d be delighted.” She lifted her hand from Wolverton’s arm. “Thank you for the turn on the terrace,” she said as she stepped away from him.

  But Wolverton moved in front of her, a fleeting scowl on his face before he was able to mask it. “Ah, well, for propriety’s sake, Lady Alice should return to the ballroom with me, Pembroke. How would it look if she left with one gentleman and returned on another’s arm? It could damage her reputation.” He glanced at Alice and held out his arm to her before returning his gaze to Pembroke. “Once we’re finished with our obligations in the ballroom, perhaps we can leave the debutantes and chaperones behind and have some real entertainment in the card room.”

  Alice nearly gasped at his audacity, implying she was merely a debutante and an obligation, but she pursed her lips to hold in any reaction. “This is to be the supper dance, Lord Wolverton, so I’m afraid Lord Pembroke will be quite busy with obligations.” She gave him her best society smile.

  “An obligation I will enjoy, I assure you.” Pembroke stepped close enough that the toe of his shoe brushed the bottom of her skirt.

  Wolverton swiftly captured her hand, and guided it through the crook of his elbow, holding it there. “Shall we go inside, Lady Alice?”

  She kept her eyes on Pembroke, stifling her annoyance with Wolverton’s high-handedness. “Yes. I wouldn’t want to miss a moment of my dance with you, Lord Pembroke.”

  Lord Wolverton’s fingers tightened over her hand and she could feel his eyes on her. She glanced up, and even in the low light his stormy blue eyes pinned her. “I’ll be waiting for you just inside the doors,” Pembroke said.

  Hastily looking away from Wolverton, she fixed her gaze on Pembroke. “I shall join you momentarily,” she promised.

  Pembroke gave her one last glance before he went inside. If he was as taken with her as he seemed to be, he might give up the information she needed without a lot of prodding. It might not be hard to get him to talk after all, Alice mused. She quickened her step so she wouldn’t be far behind, but Lord Wolverton held her back.

  “In a hurry, my lady?
” he said, arching his eyebrows and slowing his step.

  “I wouldn’t want to keep Lord Pembroke waiting,” she said, nearly pulling him along with her.

  But Wolverton stopped altogether. Since he still held her arm fast, she did, too, rather abruptly. Alice looked up in surprise.

  “I must ask you a question, my lady. Why were you asking Huntley about the Earl of Moreland’s son?” His voice was soft, as if she might spook if he spoke too loudly.

  Alice gaped. How had he overheard? Swallowing, she forced herself to relax. “I met Thomas once and was shocked at his death, that’s all. There are so few details on what happened.” She gave Wolverton a demure smile, hoping to cover her earlier reaction. “But Lord Huntley reminded me that such things aren’t fit for the ears of a gently bred woman.”

  He tilted his head as if considering her words. “Since it was reported that Pembroke was the last person to see Thomas alive, is it reasonable to assume that is why you’re so anxious to talk to him? To find out more details? If so, I’d like to know why.” His blue eyes bored into hers. He wasn’t going to give up easily, that much was clear, and she needed to claim her dance with Lord Pembroke.

  Alice pulled her hand away from his arm and straightened her spine. “Lord Wolverton, this conversation has become tiresome, and I have promised this dance to another. If you will please escort me inside.” She turned and started toward the ballroom doors, but Wolverton caught up easily and blocked her way.

  His hands were behind his back now, the picture of a gentleman, but his voice was edged with tension. “Be careful, my lady. Curiosity can be a dangerous thing.”

  “Thank you for the advice,” Alice said coldly. He held out his arm, as a gentleman should, but Alice didn’t take it and moved past him. Before she reached the doors, however, a crack broke the silence of the night, and a brick shattered into fragments to her right. Alice found herself being thrown to the ground, with Lord Wolverton's body surrounding hers, cushioning the fall.