Catherine and the Marquis (Bluestocking Brides Book 4) Read online

  Lilith put a hand to his arm. “You are not going to help, surely? You shall end up filthy.”

  He looked at the state of the footmen and released a long breath. She was right. And getting filthy was not what a marquis did. Particularly not a newly-minted one who was trying to ensure the family name recovered from the ruin his father had created.

  Thorne pulled his pocket watch out and flicked it open. “We are due at the duke’s in fifteen minutes.”

  “I’m sure he will understand that the road is blocked.”

  Thorne shook his head. The duke had called upon him several days ago when Thorne had been in the nearest town looking for workers. The house was still understaffed after his father had lost many of the servants due to his behavior. It would not do to cancel the visit.

  “We’ll walk. The house is only half a mile from here.”

  His sister let out the fifth huff of the day. “Walk? In this mud? I shall hardly look presentable when we arrive.”

  “We have little choice. Anyway, I did not think mud normally bothered you.”

  “It does not normally.” She lifted her chin and folded her arms. “But normally I am not visiting with a duke and duchess and normally my brother has not spent the last several weeks reminding me what a hard job it will be to revive the good family name and that I must be on my very best behavior, so we can make a good impression.”

  “I think turning up late or not at all is far worse than turning up with a muddy hem.”

  “Says you. You have no hems to worry about.”

  Thorne drew in a deep breath and held it in his lungs. He was used to his sister’s fretting, but it had grown worse since their arrival in Hampshire. After the death of his father, it was up to him to reclaim the family seat and ensure the estate began to turn a profit. The death duties had already meant him selling off portions of land and letting out the townhouse in Bath. It was vitally important for himself and for his siblings that the estate made money again and that they no longer had to suffer under the tarnish of their father’s misdeeds.

  Unfortunately, Lilith was as aware of this fact as he was. Her time away from society might have protected her from gossip about their father but it had not helped her become accustomed to the fact she was a lady and there were a great many expectations of her.

  Just as there were of him.

  “Come, let’s make haste. If you walk on the verge, you shall save your hem, I promise.” He offered his sister an arm.

  She sighed and shook her head with a smile. “It’s a good job I like you, Brother.” She latched her arm through his.

  Thorne gave the driver orders to return the carriage home and meet him at the village with it in several hours’ time once the horses were refreshed. He was still finding his way around the area, but he knew he and Lilith could walk to the village with ease from the estate.

  “Do you find it odd being back home?” Lilith asked.

  “Do you?”

  “I hardly think of it as home. You are the only one who can claim it as home really.”

  “I spent about as much time here as you did. Mother didn’t like it much here.”

  “Yes, but you were much older. I only have vague memories.”

  Thorne shrugged. “I don’t recall much of being here so to answer your question, yes, I find it odd.”

  “I hope it will feel like home soon.”

  Thorne smiled. “It will, I promise. Once you have come to know everyone, it will.”

  “And then I can have my debut?”

  His sister’s eyes were lit with excitement. He grinned. How he loved to see her like that. She’d had too little excitement in her life. Their mother had kept her cloistered away for many years to avoid all the scandal surrounding their father, and she’d missed out on much—including her debut into society.

  “You shall have the finest debut a girl could ever have,” he promised.

  Her grin widened. “You are truly the best brother ever.”

  Thorne guided her along the road. Although he was pleased to make Lilith happy, the idea of arranging a grand coming out ball hardly filled him with anticipation. He’d already had his fill of lace and gowns and young women these past years. Escorting his sister about had allowed him plenty of time to see what a woman’s life revolved around. Hopefully once they were settled, she could rely on him less and perhaps his younger brother could play escort for a damned change.

  Especially when he began the hunt for a wife. Now the estate was settled, it was time. But he would not be looking for someone young and innocent like his sister. He’d seen enough naive little girls to last him a lifetime. It seemed every lady who had been pushed his way by an overbearing mother had been nothing short of silly. No, the woman who would take on the role of marchioness needed a little age and experience behind her if she was to help him run an estate like Easton.

  The duke’s house promised to be quite a sight. The gatehouse itself was an elegant cream-stoned building. Smoke puffed from a chimney indicating the gatekeeper was at home. He opened up the wrought iron gates for them with a pleasant smile and motioned along the road up to the house.

  “You’ll see the house once you head over the brow of the hill. The Duke and Duchess are taking guests this afternoon.”

  Thorne thanked him, and they continued their walk along toward the house. The estate lands appeared well-managed and Thorne took note. Easton Lodge had been neglected by their father as he gambled, drank, and had affairs with any woman who would have him. The forty acres would need a great deal of work alone. He dreaded to think what needed doing at the house.

  “It’s a lovely house,” Lilith sighed when they reached the front of the building.

  “It is indeed.”

  “I know you shall ensure Easton rivals it before long.”

  He nodded determinedly. “With plenty of hard work, it will be known as one of the grand houses of England once more.”

  “So long as you do not work too hard. You’re a marquis now. You can let others do your work for you, you know. Having work-worn hands would be quite scandalous, you know.” Her tone was teasing.

  Thorne shook his head with a smile at his sister’s words. His siblings loved nothing more than to mock him for having constantly calloused hands. His passion had been breeding horses—and he intended to continue with that once they were settled—but he was not the sort of man to leave the work to others. After all, how could one ensure the work was being done properly if one did not get involved?

  The butler escorted them into a grand drawing room with soaring ceilings and furnished in the latest fashions. Touches of the orient mingled with older, likely antique furnishings. The duke greeted him with a handshake while the duchess smiled kindly at his sister.

  “You shall have to forgive our lateness. There was a tree down just along the road, Your Grace,” he explained.

  “We had to walk all the way from there!” his sister declared. Thorne resisted the urge to give his sister a nudge. So much time cloistered away meant her manners were rougher than they should be.

  “Call me Guy, please. And I know my wife would prefer Julia.”

  “So long as you call me Thorne, and this is Lilith.” His sister gave a delicate curtsey.

  There was a pause as a maid poured tea. They were a handsome couple, though the duchess was redheaded and freckled—something not usually sought after by a duke. He’d heard of their match via his relations and there had been talk of her being far too beneath him but according to most it was a great love match, and from the little touch of each other’s hand they shared when they sat, he could see gossip was probably right.

  “It’s been a long time,” said Guy. “Life has been keeping you busy.”

  Thorne nodded. He had met most of the nobility in Town through various stages in his life but had never had the chance for form any solid friendships. Once he had left Cambridge, he had spent most of his time accompanying his mother and Lilith wherever they wished to go. He
had briefly escorted his other sister Nancy about but she had married swiftly to a man far beneath her station in his opinion.

  “I suspect life will keep me ever busier now that the estate is settled,” he commented.

  “Will you be staying in Hampshire long?” Julia asked.

  Thorne nodded. “Until the next season.”

  “I will be coming out,” his sister said with a wide grin.

  “Wonderful. Shall you be holding a ball here?” Julia leaned in with a smile. “The Hampshire set love nothing more than a ball, I warn you.”

  “Oh most certainly,” Lilith answered before he could. “Thorney has promised me the finest ball a girl could ask for.”

  “Well—” Thorne started.

  The door to the drawing room swung open unceremoniously and a blur of muslin and red hair barreled in. “Julia, you’ll never guess what!” The woman paused at the sight of them all seated, cups raised to their lips. “Oh, it’s you.”

  She looked directly at Thorne. His shin panged with remembrance. This woman—this wild, redheaded young woman—had left quite the bruise on his shin last night.

  Thorne lifted a brow, eyeing the girl. She was as slight as he remembered—skinny and short with high, petite breasts. Of course, he had not noticed the breasts at the time, but he could not fail to recognize the wild glimmer in her eyes. Even if he had not had a good look at her features in the moonlight, he’d have recognized that.

  Julia offered a tight smile. “Catherine, I did not know you were coming over this afternoon. Won’t you sit down?”

  This Catherine girl blinked, narrowed her gaze briefly at Thorne then gave a swift nod. “I could do with catching my breath. I raced over as soon as I was awake.”

  Thorne watched her as she sat next to the duchess. She had to be one of the Chadwick sisters. Her features were similar to Julia’s—a small nose peppered with freckles, stubborn chin, and green eyes that bore into him. She glanced his way, curiosity clear in her gaze and he looked away. The last thing he needed was the knowledge of their accidental nighttime meeting being spread about the countryside. Many would mistake it for some illicit liaison and he was all too aware how gossip developed quickly and unfairly. When he’d come upon her, he had at first thought she might be in trouble. Why else would a young woman be out at night in the pouring rain?

  Apparently not, though. She looked in fine health and none the worse for the wear. Unlike him. That blasted bruise would linger for several days. She might be small, but she had a fierce kick.

  Guy cleared his throat. “This is—”

  “Thorne,” Thorne put in quickly, before Guy could introduce him by his full name.

  “You said you know the marquis?” Julia asked her sister.

  A little color seeped from Miss Chadwick’s cheeks. “Marquis?”

  Thorne gave a swift nod. “My father, the sixth Marquis of Thornefield recently passed.”

  She seemed to recover quickly from her surprise and straitened her shoulders. “Well, I knew that,” said Miss Chadwick. “I mean...that is...” She sighed and sank deeper into her chair. “Can I have a tea?” she asked her sister. “I’m parched.” She did not wait before helping herself, plopping spoonfuls of sugar into the cup.

  Lilith watched, wide-eyed while the intruder clattered about, stirring vigorously then taking a large gulp of tea with such noise that all eyes could not fail to be on her. Thorne tried to ignore the display. He suspected she was doing it either to shock them all or for attention.

  She reached for a crumpet, caught his gaze and grinned before stuffing it into her mouth. “I’m starved,” she said around the crumpet.

  Julia gave a cough and tapped Miss Chadwick’s arm. “Enough,” he heard her hiss. Julia laced her fingers together on her lap. “This is my sister Catherine.”

  “A pleasure,” he said, aware his tone offered no such idea of pleasure. “And this is my sister Lilith. She will be staying here until her debut in London.”

  “You’ll be down for the season?” Miss Chadwick asked. “I shall be too if Mama has anything to do with it. I like the balls, but the men are an utter bore, I warn you.”

  “Catherine,” her sister said in a sing songy voice. “It’s Lilith’s first season. I’m sure she will love it.”

  “Oh no doubt,” Miss Chadwick agreed. “Just steer clear of the older men and you will not have to worry about them stepping on your feet or accidentally touching you.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Perhaps you can guide me,” Lilith suggested. “I confess I have little idea what I am doing when it comes to balls and suchlike.”

  “Neither does Catherine,” Julia muttered.

  “I know enough,” said Miss Chadwick defensively.

  Thorne could not help watching her out of the corner of his eye as she conversed with Lilith. Even when he was trying to pay attention to what the duke was saying, he found she drew his attention. She glanced at him once, meeting his gaze and arching a brow with a sort of secretive smile. He looked away instantly. Lilith seemed to enjoy the conversation and their laughter cut through the slightly formal air of the ‘at home’.

  He turned his attention back to Guy. “I hear you have quite the knowledge of the ale business.”

  Guy nodded. “We’ve had some success in creating two fine ales. They are becoming quite popular.”

  “I had heard as much though I have not had occasion to try them as yet.”

  Guy chuckled. “Then you are in luck. I have several casks.” He stood and bowed to the ladies. “If you will excuse us, I must introduce Thorne to our beers.”

  “Oh do let him try our latest,” said Julia.

  Apparently, Miss Chadwick was not the only unusual woman in the family. Thorne had heard murmurs of the duchess being involved in the ale-making business but he rarely paid heed to gossip.

  He returned with Guy after a good sample of ale to find all three women cloistered together, giggling. Lilith wiped her eyes of tears and grinned. Miss Chadwick gave him a look that bordered on smug. If his sister was going to spend more time with this woman, he was going to have to keep a close eye on them both. He was not at all sure she was the sort of friend he wanted his sister having.

  Chapter Three

  Catherine cracked open an eye and scowled at the light that invaded her eyelids. She groaned. Getting up at a normal time in the morning was far from what her body was used to. She’d far rather stay up all night and sleep through until the afternoon. Apparently other people had ideas.

  Or other creatures.

  At least it was not her mother, she supposed. “Shoo, Mr. B.” She tried to push the black and white cat from her pillow. He was currently rotating, trying to find that elusive comfy spot.

  “Shoo,” she tried again with another push to his rotund belly. Their housekeeper Mrs. Holmes had brought the cat in only a few weeks ago, declaring they had mice in the kitchen but Mr. B. had turned out to be a terrible mouser and preferred lounging around and stealing scraps whenever he could. In the few weeks that they had owned him, he had already grown fatter.

  Catherine batted his bushy tail away from her face and turned over. The cat purred loudly in her ear and decided to rest his chin on the back of her head.

  “You are an uncouth beast,” she muttered.

  His purr grew louder.

  “Oh fine.” She rolled back to face him and gave his chin a good scratch. “What an ugly beast you are,” she cooed.

  He really was. Mr. B—so named after an odious man who had tried to pursue her sister Emma even after she was married—was a great fluffy thing. He constantly needed grooming as he was always dragging in leaves and dirt from outside and his markings were irregular.

  “I suppose your paws are quite cute,” she conceded once he started kneading at her arm with them. “Ouch.” She eased his paws off her. “When your claws are away,” she added.

  Twisting onto her back, she stared up at the ceiling and continued to fuss the cat until he settled by her h
ead. “I met a man more odious than you yesterday, Mr. B.”

  Why she was telling this to a cat, she did not know. Perhaps she was truly going to turn into the eccentric spinster aunt. Without her sisters to confide in daily, all she had was the cat. Maybe she would get a dozen more cats and truly seal her identity as absolutely batty.

  “Well, really I met him the night before. But I did not know it was him. Honestly, though, what was he thinking, grabbing a woman like that? I mean, what was he even doing there?” She sighed. “Very well, he was on his land, but still...why would a marquis be tramping around in the rain in the middle of the night?”

  She glanced at the cat, who eyed her expressionlessly. “I suppose you probably like to do the same, but you, Mr. B. are a cat.”

  She thought back to the previous day and her surprise at seeing him. In the daylight, he was different but no less intimidating. He was the same height as her brother-in-law Guy—and that was saying something. His nose was long and aristocratic, and his eyes were a startling ice blue. They made her want to shiver as soon as he’d looked at her.

  He was, she supposed, handsome to some. “But not to me,” she declared. “He’s an odious man, and I am glad I kicked him. I’d do it again too, if I had to.”

  Peering at the clock by her bedside, she sighed. She supposed she might as well get up. Damn the man. That marquis had robbed her of plenty of sleep and now she was not even able to stay in bed until lunchtime. Why she should be so concerned with him, she did not know. After all, it was not the first time someone had disapproved of her and it would not be the last.

  She sat and pushed unruly hair from her eyes. Mr. B. took exception to the disturbance and jumped from her bed to the windowsill where he proceeded to groom himself in places Catherine would rather he would not do in front of her.

  “I lied,” she told the cat. “You’re more odious than him. At least he had some manners.”

  Even if they were a little rigid. His sister had seemed pleasant, though, and a little more relaxed. She would fit nicely into their small social set in Hampshire. The marquis was another matter. Thorne was not nearly as charming or funny or interesting as her brothers-in-law.