That Miscreant Marquess Read online

  Now he could face Mattie. He took her hands and urged her to stand. “She’s the only woman willing to see me as a person, not a marquess. Until I reconnected with you.”

  “You’ve always been Lavinia’s older brother. I don’t care about the rest.”

  He brought her hands to his chest. “I know. I never realized that you cared more than that, or how important you are to me. I love you, you know.”

  “You told me once, but then I saw you with that woman.”

  “Her name is Georgie. I’ll introduce you, if you like. You and she would enjoy each other’s company.”

  “Ahh, I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

  He chuckled. “Well then, are you ready to marry me?”

  “What? Yes, yes, yes!” She threw herself at him, wrapping her hands around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss.

  For the first time, he felt at peace with his life. His trials had never been horrid, never more than he could bear, but he was stronger for Mattie’s love.

  Chapter Eleven

  For the second time in a matter of months, Mattie was at Stanhope Abbey for a wedding, only this time it was her own. Her parents were there, Mama helping her dress along with Charlotte and Lavinia, and Papa sitting somewhere with the other men.

  Lavinia had been gracious when Mattie told her of her desire to have Charlotte stand as witness to the ceremony. “She’s a large part of the reason I’m marrying Markham.”

  Lavinia had bitten back a smile. “Of course, because my introducing you so many years ago had nothing to do with it.” Then she laughed.

  Lavinia had done much of the planning for the wedding, only letting Mattie speak up now and again. Mattie knew it was done out of love, so she didn’t complain. Her friend’s ideas were much better than Mattie would have chosen on her own.

  When she stood in front of the full-length mirror, Mattie couldn’t believe that was her in the reflection. Her gown, pale green silk with three ruffles at the hem and a braided ribbon above them, suited her coloring, and made her feel beautiful. Lavinia had woven ribbons into her hairstyle, then added beads and tiny flowers.

  She would never look as beautiful again.

  When they got to the church, Markham and Thornton were waiting along with their guests. Her groom stood so proud, so incredibly handsome at the altar, she couldn’t take her eyes from his. The love radiating to her warmed her, filled her to overflowing.

  She didn’t hear the words the vicar said during the ceremony, and Markham had to clear his throat to remind her to respond where she should. The words didn’t matter as much as the love she knew he offered her.

  If Markham hadn’t taken her arm and turned her to face the pews, she wouldn’t have realized the service had ended.

  “Come, love. Our families wish to celebrate with us.”

  Of course they did, and Lady Stanhope’s breakfast banquet was as grand or more so than Lavinia and Ringley’s. But Mattie couldn’t eat. She was too full of happiness, there was no room for food.

  “You must have something,” Markham argued.

  “If you insist.” She took a bite of the sausage on his plate. “Oh, that’s excellent. Have someone bring me a plate, please.”

  He chuckled and went to get her some food.

  Charlotte sat beside her, her plate barely filled, too.

  “You can’t claim it’s nerves that makes you not hungry.”

  “Oh, no, it’s not. I’ll nibble during the day. It’s much more fun to watch the people. I’m not often in the company of so many dukes and duchesses.”

  “Maybe we should find you one.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m clearly in no rush to marry, and there’s no one I care for above all others, like you did Markham.”

  In spite of her friend’s words, Mattie noticed Charlotte watching Thornton approach their table, only to exhale when he sat at another table. A realization struck her, making her laugh. “I should warn you, Charlotte. Lord Markham and I were witnesses to Lavinia and Ringley’s wedding, and look where we are now! You and Thornton might find yourselves engaged before the summer ends.”

  Charlotte laughed and blushed. She clearly had stronger feelings for Thorn than she would admit.

  Markham returned, setting a plate in front of Mattie. “What’s this about an engagement?”

  Mattie watched Charlotte’s eyes widen as she shook her head. Turning to her husband, Mattie said, “Of nothing. Just gossip I won’t bore you with.”

  “That’s a habit I could grow to like, should you care to continue it.”

  “Gossiping?”

  “No.” His eyes twinkled. “Not boring me with it.”

  She shoved his arm and laughed with him. The she rested her head on his shoulder. “I don’t deserve to be this happy.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “You deserve every moment of it, and I make it my job to see you are always so.”

  “I love you, dear man, and I intend to share my joy with you the rest of our days.”

  “May they be many and long.” Markham bent to place his lips on hers, and for once, Mattie didn’t care who saw it. Let everyone spread word that she and her husband were in love for the rest of their lives.

  ***

  I hope you enjoyed Mattie and Markham’s story. Read on for an excerpt of Betting on the Duke, which is available in the Untamed Ladies collection. The Duke of Noblegreen is losing more than a wager when he bets against Lady Madeleine Lumley and her horse. He’s in serious danger of losing his heart.

  BETTING ON THE DUKE

  Copyright © 2017 Aileen Fish

  Chapter One

  June 1818

  Newmarket, Sussex

  The afternoon air smelled of horse, hay and sweat, and it was the most beautiful scent in the world to Lady Madeleine Lumley. She’d spent most of her life in the stables, either at the family farm, Fernleigh Stud, or her father’s estate, Bridgethorpe Manor. She lived to ride, and if she wasn’t in the saddle, she had a currycomb in her hand.

  The love of her life was a bay dun stallion named Lumley’s Pride. Not only were his striking yellowish-gray coat and black points eye-catching, he was the fastest horse in all of Suffolk, if not all of England.

  That is, he was fastest when Madeleine rode him. On occasion, his jockey Jay was able to encourage Pride to break away from the pack, but most often he won by a length or less. A win was a win, of course, but “close” was not her way. From the moment she was born, she’d come in second. Her twin sister, Patience, arrived six minutes before she did. Her eldest sister, Hannah, entered an embroidered pillow in the fair at the same time Madeleine entered a silk reticule. The reticule finished second to the pillow. Even her youngest sister, eighteen-year-old Lucy-Anne, danced with their brother’s friend, the Duke of Noblegreen, one set before he asked Madeleine.

  That last disappointment was not to be borne. Nobby—His Grace— was the handsomest man she knew, not to mention kind, funny, and he loved horses. He was perfect. And he had no interest in Madeleine at all. Since that was quite clear, she was foolish to still carry romantic feelings for him, begun when he first visited Bridgethorpe Manor ten years ago.

  Because of her childhood imaginings of their living happily ever after, when she’d matured she’d been unable to see any other man as a possible husband. Nobby was the only man for her.

  Slipping into Pride’s stall, Madeleine pulled on the pants she’d borrowed from Teddy, one of the grooms at Fernleigh. After glancing over her shoulder to be sure she couldn’t be seen, she slipped off her dress and shift, not having worn her stays, and donned the groom’ shirt. Then she put on the cap, folded her gown and yanked on the tall boots. Now she could pass for a groom, if no one looked closely. She was fairly certain the men all knew about her riding this way, and were good enough not to speak up. Her brother David would berate her for risking injury to herself and the horse, if he knew—which he might already—and his wife, Joanna, would scold her to no end for disgracing herself
in these clothes.

  After saddling Pride, she led him outside to the wooden step and mounted. Her horse was skittish, eager to run, but she kept him steady while they trotted away from the stables. Only when she was free of the outbuildings did she let him canter.

  Pride wanted to break loose and burn his pent-up energy, and once his muscles were sufficiently warmed, she let him go. Squirrels chattered angrily as they passed, and a fox scurried into the bush. The speed was exhilarating, delighting Madeleine as much as the horse. This was the complete opposite to sitting politely through morning calls, or pretending interest in the dull conversation in an assembly. Gentlemen didn’t discuss their horses with ladies, except to brag at a race meeting, so there were few subjects to broach that would hold her interest.

  Riding astride—heaven forbid—also let her flaunt a bit of her independence, for now, at least. Even Joanna, one of the best horsewomen Madeleine knew, rode sidesaddle. She’d given up riding stallions when she’d gotten pregnant with her first child, but she still enjoyed a good run on her mare. It was quite ironic she’d be the loudest opponent to Madeleine’s adventures.

  As they neared the lane, she bent over Pride’s neck, her legs taking the brunt of the rise-and-fall motion of the horse’s stride. Trees lining the road blocked her view in either direction, but she’d be able to hear any approaching horses or wagons, so she slowed only slightly to make the turn off Fernwood’s drive onto the lane.

  She guided Pride to the left, toward Newmarket, and immediately halted upon finding another rider blocking the way. Her horse stopped quickly, rearing. She tightened her legs and grabbed a fistful of mane, and managed to remain astride.

  The other rider also gained control of his mount without losing his seat. He was clearly angered at nearly being thrown and waved his riding crop wildly. “You fool, what are you about? Have you no care for your master’s horse? Be assured I’ll tell Lumley about your recklessness. What is your name?”

  Recognizing the Duke of Noblegreen, Madeleine grew hot with embarrassment at her actions and angry at his berating. Yet she couldn’t reveal her identity without consequences. She remained silent.

  “That’s Lumley’s Pride, isn’t it? He should never be ridden so carelessly. Once I’ve had my say, you’ll be back to mucking out stalls.” His rage didn’t detract from his handsome features. Instead, it added spark to his eyes, which far outweighed the deep line between his eyebrows and sharp downward turn of his mouth.

  Her eyes widened. He knew this horse? She’d not seen him at the race meetings she’d attended over the years, but that number was a small percentage of races held. Dare she answer? He didn’t know her well enough to recognize her voice, but she didn’t know if she could pass for a lad. She had little choice, so she tried to deepen it. “Forgive me milord.”

  Nobby—the nickname her brother used for him—didn’t reprimand her for not addressing him correctly as Your Grace. “Your name?”

  She normally tried to pass as Teddy, and had used his name several times in races, but she couldn’t risk the chance of the boy losing his job. She picked a name at random. “Hugh, sir.” Well, taking the name of one of her brothers wasn’t random, but since they all called him Trey, it wasn’t a slight to him.

  “Well, Hugh, you’ll be looking for a job at another stable as soon as I report to your boss.” His horse pranced in place under the tension of its rider.

  Madeleine had to fight not to smile at the truth of the situation. She’d be likely to be sent back to Bridgethorpe Manor if David learned of her habits. Regardless of the fact she’d come to Fernleigh to help Joanna in her fourth confinement, her brother would insist she be removed from temptation. Uncertain she could remain serious if she spoke again, she simply nodded and waited to be dismissed.

  “Return to the stable and I shall insist someone else work with Pride,” Nobby said.

  Not wanting to be scolded again, Madeleine tugged on her cap brim and turned her mount toward the stables. Keeping him at a trot, the echoing hoof beats behind her indicated Nobby followed. Was he actually going to tell David about this? Her brother would know he had no grooms named Hugh, and he’d investigate why Teddy wasn’t the one exercising Pride. This could mean the end of her rides. It might also mean trouble for Teddy. She must make sure David didn’t blame the boy.

  As she got closer to the stables, the part of her who longed to be noticed by Nobby crept to the forefront of her worries. How long would he stay? Did she have time to change and join him and David?

  Her hair would be mussed, and she hadn’t worn her bonnet, but the brisk air would have added roses to her cheeks. The chance he’d recognize her was fair. He wouldn’t be looking for the groom to appear in a gown.

  The sensible thing to do was to dress and sneak up the servant’s stairs to her room and wait to be summoned to join the others, should Nobby be here for something more than punishing “Hugh.” However, Mama always said Madeleine had the least common sense of all her children, so there was little chance of her behaving as expected.

  Handing off the reins to Teddy, she said, “A passerby took issue with how I rode Pride, and he might be reporting that to my brother. I used a false name, so nothing should reflect on you.”

  “Thank you, milady. I’ll take him out to the far paddock for the rest of his workout.” He led the horse away.

  Madeleine rushed to Pride’s stall to change, and after dressing and smoothing her gown, she repinned the stray locks of her hair as she left the stable. Rounding the corner of the building, she nearly collided with Nobby. “Oh, Your Grace! Forgive me.” She curtsied.

  He bowed in return. “Lady Madeleine, good day. Did you go for a morning ride?” That spark of anger was gone, but his eyes were no less brilliant. His chiseled jawline was so masculine, and when he smiled, even if it wasn’t broad, many a young lady grew flustered when he spoke to them.

  She wasn’t easily flustered. “Why, no, I just brought an apple to my mare.”

  “Your pretty face is brightened by the cool air, then. May I accompany you to the house?”

  Oh, could he.

  It was difficult to walk beside him because she had to keep looking away to watch where she stepped. She’d much rather gaze upon his pale brown eyes. She’d never seen him without his hat in the sunlight, but she’d bet the reddish tones of his brown hair would light up strikingly.

  “I’d like that,” she said. Aside from how much she enjoyed simply being near him, entering the house with him might deflect any suggestion she’d been the rider on Pride. “Do you have a horse entered in any of the races next week?”

  “I do. Mercury is entered in the handicap sweepstakes and the plate.” He lifted his chin as he said the stallion’s name, obviously proud of his horse.”

  “I hope you won’t be injured too severely when he loses to Pride.”

  “I’ll admit Pride is the only horse capable of beating Mercury. That’s a fine animal your brother bred.”

  “All our horses are fine,” she countered, offering him a flirtatious grin. This was the longest conversation she’d had with Nobby, the other being wholly formed by comments on the weather and the number of dancers at Almack’s that evening. His voice was so melodious, not too gruff nor too soft, the timbre exactly what her ears wished to hear.

  Nobby chuckled. “That would be why I’m here. I wish to purchase one.”

  A small number of choices came to mind, but she kept them there. A woman’s opinion was never taken into consideration in such matters, no matter how much time she spent with the animals, and how strong her intuition was about their character and ability.

  One must handle each horse individually according to its personality, strengths and weaknesses. Beyond the matter of when to give the animal his head and when to hold him back, one must reach the heart of the horse, which is where her instincts lay. Some needed a gentle hand, others a tight rein. Then there were prized stallions like Pride, whose high opinion of himself needed to be encoura
ged. Even David laughed when Madeleine mentioned that, but she could tell the difference in how that horse ran when she encouraged him before warming for a race.

  Changing the subject, Nobby asked, “How is Sam? Is he living in Town now?”

  “No, they made a home in Cheshire, near our parents’ estate. You haven’t seen him since he married?”

  “Married? Sam? I never would have imagined that. I thought he was married to the Army, although with Boney no longer a threat, Sam likely grew tired of living in a tent. Do I know the lady he wed?”

  “Not likely,” Madeleine said. “She was the widow of his close friend. She was Ellen Staverton when they met.”

  “You’re correct, I do not know her. Perhaps it’s time I visit him.”

  Oh, yes, please do. If he called on Sam, she could find a way to be there without needing an invitation. However, that assumed he waited until after Joanna’s confinement. Should she write Sam and ask him to delay invitation, if Nobby asked?

  That notion was just plain silly. Nobby was here in Newmarket and likely planned to stay until the end of the race meeting ten days from now. She had ten days to win his heart and make him realize he couldn’t spend another day without her as his wife.

  That wasn’t too much of a challenge, surely. As the daughter of an earl she was well suited to be a duchess. She shared his passion for horses, so she’d never complain about how much time he spent traveling to and from race meetings.

  Madeleine was the ideal choice for the Duke of Noblegreen’s bride. Now she must convince him.

  About the Author

  Aileen Fish is a multi-published author under several pen names, with stories ranging from historical to paranormal, or both, and heat levels from sweet to scorching. She is also an avid quilter and auto racing fan who finds there aren't enough hours in a day/week/lifetime to stay up with her "to do" list. There is always another quilt or story begging to steal away attention from the others. When she has a spare moment, she enjoys spending time with her two daughters and their families.