How to Marry a Marquis (2 page)

"Lady Danbury," Elizabeth said with the utmost sincerity, "even the devil wouldn't dare to rob you blind."

Lady D thumped her cane by way of applause and laughed. "Well said, my girl. So nice to see a young one with a brain in the head. My own children- Well, bah, I'm not going to get into that now except to tell you that my son once got his head caught between the bars of the fence 'round Windsor Castle."

Elizabeth clapped her hand over her mouth in an effort to stifle a laugh.

"Oh, go ahead and giggle," Lady Danbury sighed. "I've found that the only way to avoid parental frustration is to view him as a source of amusement."

"Well," Elizabeth said carefully, "that does seem a wise course of action...."

"You'd make a fine diplomat, Lizzie Hotchkiss," Lady Danbury chortled. "Where's my baby?"

Elizabeth didn't even bat an eyelash. Lady D's abrupt changes of subject were legendary. "Your cat," she emphasized, "has been sleeping on the ottoman for the last hour," she said, pointing across the room.

Malcolm lifted his furry head, tried to focus his slightly crossed blue eyes, decided it wasn't worth the effort, and settled back down.

"Malcolm," Lady Danbury cooed, "come to Mama."

Malcolm ignored her.

"I have a treat for you."

The cat yawned, recognized Lady D as his primary source of food, and hopped down.

"Lady Danbury," Elizabeth scolded, "you know that cat is too fat."

"Nonsense."

Elizabeth shook her head. Malcolm weighed at least a stone, although a good portion of that was fur. She spent the better part of every evening after she returned home defurring her clothing.

Which was really quite remarkable, since the snobby beast hadn't deigned to let her hold him in five years.

"Good kitty," Lady D said, holding out her arms.

"Stupid cat," Elizabeth muttered as the ecru-colored feline stopped, stared at her, then went on his way.

"You're such a sweet thing." Lady D rubbed her hand against his furry belly.

"Such a sweet thing."

The cat stretched out on Lady Danbury's lap, laying on his back with his paws hanging over his head.

"That isn't a cat," Elizabeth said. "It's a poor excuse for a rug."

Lady D raised a brow. "I know you don't mean that, Lizzie Hotchkiss."

"Yes, I do."

"Nonsense. You love Malcolm."

"Like I love Attila the Hun."

"Well, Malcolm loves you."

The cat lifted his head, and Elizabeth would swear he stuck his tongue out at her.

Elizabeth stood, letting out an indignant squeak. "That cat is a menace. I'm going to the library."

"Good idea. Go find me a new book."

Elizabeth headed for the door.

"And nothing with 'begat'!"

Elizabeth laughed in spite of herself and headed across the hall to the library.

The clicking sound of her footsteps disappeared as she stepped onto the carpet, and she sighed.

Good heavens, there were a lot of books here. Where on earth to start?

She selected a few novels, then pulled down a collection of Shakespeare's comedies. A slim

volume of romantic poetry joined the pile, and then, just as she was about to cross the hall back to Lady D's drawing room, another book caught her eye.

It was very small, and bound in quite the brightest red leather Elizabeth had ever seen. But what was most odd about the book was that it was sitting sideways on a shelf in a library that gave new meaning to the word "order." Dust wouldn't dare settle on these shelves, and certainly no book would ever lie sideways.

Elizabeth set down her pile and picked up the little red book. It was upside down, so she had to flip it over to read the title.

HOW TO MARRY A MARQUIS

She dropped the book, half expecting lightning to strike her, right there in the library. Surely this had to be some kind of joke. She'd only decided that afternoon that she had to marry, and well.

"Susan?" she called out. "Lucas? Jane?"

She shook her head. She was being ridiculous. Her siblings, cheeky as they may be, would not sneak into Lady Danbury's house and deposit a fake book, and-Well, actually, she thought, turning the slim red volume over in her hand, when it came right down to it, the book didn't really look fake. The binding looked sturdy, and the leather on the cover appeared to be of high quality. She glanced around to make sure that no one was watching-although she wasn't quite certain why she should feel so embarrassed-and carefully opened it to the first page.

The author was a Mrs. Seeton, and the book had been printed in 1792, the year of Elizabeth's birth. A funny little coincidence, Elizabeth decided, but she wasn't a superstitious sort of person.

And she certainly didn't need a little book to tell her how to live her life.

Besides, when it came right down to it, what did this Mrs. Seeton really know?

After all, if she had married a marquis, wouldn't she be Lady Seeton?

Elizabeth slammed the book shut decisively and returned it to its spot on the shelf, making

certain that it laid sideways, just the way she had found it. She didn't want anyone to think she'd actually been looking at the silly thing.

She picked up her stack of books and crossed back to the drawing room, where Lady Danbury

was still sitting in her chair, stroking her cat and staring out the window as if she were waiting for someone.

"I found some books," Elizabeth called out. "I don't think you'll find many 'begats' in these, although perhaps in the Shakespeare-"

"Not tragedies, I hope."

"No, I thought that in your current frame of mind, you'd find the comedies more entertaining."

"Good girl," Lady Danbury said approvingly. "Anything else?"

Elizabeth blinked and looked back down at the books in her arms. "A couple of novels, and some poetry."

"Burn the poetry."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well, don't burn it; the books are certainly more valuable than firewood. But I certainly don't want to hear it. My late husband must have bought that. Such a dreamer."

"I see," Elizabeth said, mostly because she thought she was expected to say something.

With a sudden movement, Lady Danbury cleared her throat and waved her hand in the air. "Why don't you go home early today?"

Elizabeth's mouth dropped open. Lady Danbury never dismissed her early.

"I have to deal with that blasted estate manager, and I certainly don't need you here for that.

Besides, if he's an eye for pretty young girls, I'll never get him to pay attention to me with you around."

"Lady Danbury, I hardly think-"

"Nonsense. You're quite an attractive thing. Men love blond hair. I should know.

Mine used to be as fair as yours."

Elizabeth smiled. "It still is fair."

"It's white, is what it is," Lady Danbury said with a laugh. "You're a sweet thing. You shouldn't be here with me, you should be out finding a husband."

"I... ah ..." What to say to that?

"Very noble of you to devote yourself to your siblings, but you have to live as well."

Elizabeth just stared at her employer, horrified by the tears pooling in her eyes. She'd served Lady Danbury for five years, and never had they spoken of such matters. "I'll-I'll be off, then, since you say I might leave early."

Lady Danbury nodded, looking oddly disappointed. Had she been hoping Elizabeth would

pursue the topic further? "Just put that book of poetry back before you go," she instructed. "I'm sure I won't look at it, and I can't trust the servants to keep my books in order."

"I will." Elizabeth set the rest of the books down on an end table, gathered her things, and said her farewells. As she was walking out of the room, Malcolm jumped off of Lady Danbury's lap

and followed her.

"See?" Lady D crowed. "I told you he loved you."

Elizabeth eyed the cat suspiciously as she headed out into the hall. "What do you want, Malcolm?"

He flicked his tail, bared his teeth, and hissed.

"Oh!" Elizabeth exclaimed, dropping the poetry book. "You beast. Following me out here just to hiss-"

"Did you throw a book at my cat?" Lady D hollered.

Elizabeth decided to ignore the question, instead jabbing her finger in Malcolm's direction as she snatched up her book. "Go back to Lady Danbury, you awful creature."

Malcolm stuck his tail in the air and stalked away.

Elizabeth let out a long breath and walked into the library. She headed toward the poetry

section, scrupulously keeping her back to that little red book. She didn't want to think about it,

she didn't want to look at it-

Drat, but that thing was practically giving off heat. Never in her life had Elizabeth been so aware of an inanimate object.

She reshelved the volume of poetry and stomped to the door, starting to get really annoyed with herself. That silly little book shouldn't affect her one way

or another. By avoiding it like the plague, she was actually giving it power it didn't deserve, and-

"Oh, for heaven"s sake!" she finally burst out.

"Did you say something?" Lady Danbury called out from the next room.

"No! I just-uh, I just tripped over the edge of the rug. That's all." Elizabeth muttered another

"Good heavens" under her breath and tiptoed back over to the book. It was lying face-down, and much to Elizabeth's surprise, her hand shot out and flipped it over.

HOW TO MARRY A MARQUIS

There it was, same as before. Staring up at her, mocking her, sitting there as if to say she didn't have the gumption to read it.

"It is just a book," she muttered. "Just a stupid, garishly red little book."

And yet...

Elizabeth needed money so desperately. Lucas had to be sent to Eton, and Jane had cried for a week when she'd used up the last of her watercolors. And both of them were growing faster than weeds on a summer day. Jane could make do with Susan's old frocks, but Lucas would need

clothing befitting his station.

The only road to riches was marriage, and this brazen little book claimed to have all the

answers. Elizabeth wasn't so foolish as to believe that she might capture the interest of a marquis, but maybe a little advice could help her snare a nice country gentleman-one with a nice

comfortable income. She'd even marry a Cit. Her father would turn over in his grave at the

thought of her making an alliance with someone in trade, but a girl had to be practical, and Elizabeth would wager that there were a number of wealthy merchants who'd like to marry the

impoverished daughter of a baronet.

Besides, it was her father's fault that she was in this bind, anyway. If he hadn't...

Elizabeth gave her head a shake. Now wasn't the time to dwell on the past. She needed to

concentrate on her present dilemma.

When it came right down to it, she didn't know much about men. She didn't know what she was

supposed to say to them or how she was supposed to act to make them fall in love with her.

She stared at the book. Hard.

She looked around. Was anyone coming?

She took a deep breath, and quick as lightning, the book found its way into her reticule.

Then she ran out of the house.

* * *

James Sidwell, Marquis of Riverdale, liked to go unnoticed. He liked nothing better than to

blend into a crowd, his identity unknown, and ferret out plots and facts. It was probably why he'd so enjoyed his years of work for the War Office.

And he'd been damned good at it. The same face and body that commanded such attention in

London ballrooms disappeared into crowds with startling success. James merely removed the

confident gleam from his eyes, stooped his shoulders, and no one ever suspected that he was of noble lineage.

Of course the brown hair and brown eyes helped, too. It was always good to have common

coloring. James doubted there were very many successful redheaded operatives.

But one year earlier, his cover had been blown when a Napoleonic spy had revealed his identity to the French. And now the War Office refused to assign him to any mission more exciting than the occasional rounding up of low-stakes smugglers.

James had accepted his boring fate with a heavy sigh and an air of resignation.

It was probably time he devoted himself to his estates and title, anyway. He had to marry at some point-distasteful as the prospect might be-and produce an heir to the marquisate. And so he had turned his attention to the London social scene, where a marquis-especially one so young and handsome-never went unnoticed.

James had been alternately disgusted, bored, and amused. Disgusted because the young ladies-

and their mamas-viewed him as nothing so much as a large fish to be hooked and reeled in.

Bored because after years of political intrigue, the color of ribbons and the cut of a waistcoat just didn't strike him as fascinating topics of conversation. And amused because, to be frank, if he hadn't held on to his sense of humor throughout the ordeal he would have gone mad.

When the note from his aunt had arrived by special messenger, he had nearly whooped with joy.

Now, as he approached her house in Surrey, he pulled it out of his pocket and reread it.

Riverdale-

I need your help urgently. Please report to Danbury House with all possible haste. Do not travel
in your best finery. I shall tell everyone that you are my new estate manager. Your new name is
James Siddons.

Agatha, Lady Danbury

James had no idea what this was all about, but he knew it was just what he needed to alleviate his boredom and allow him to leave London without feeling guilty over shirking his duties. He traveled by hired coach, since an estate manager would not own horses as fine as his, and walked the last mile from the center of town to Danbury House. Everything he needed was packed in one bag.

In the eyes of the world, he became plain Mr. James Siddons, a gentleman, to be sure, but

perhaps just a little down on funds. His clothing came from the back of his closet-well-made, but worn at the elbows and two years out of style. A few snips with the kitchen shears effectively marred the expert haircut he'd received just the week before. For all intents and purposes, the Marquis of Riverdale had disappeared, and James could not have been more pleased.