The Marquis and I Read online

  A KISS FROM A MARQUIS

  “Trust me. I will not harm you, or worsen our situation.” Con stilled, praying Charlotte would go with him.

  “Very well.” Once again, she seemed as if she was working out her path as she spoke.

  He threaded their way through the crowd to the French windows closest to them. Turning right, they walked to the end of the terrace, and there, in the shadows where no one could see them, he placed his hands on her small waist. “I want to kiss you. Like we did before.”

  She would not know that it had been years since he’d experienced such an innocent kiss, and the innocence had been on his part.

  Charlotte stared at him for a moment, as if she would discover something she didn’t know. “Yes.”

  He lowered his head, and their lips touched. He moved his mouth over hers, waiting for her to return the caress, then she placed her hands on his cheeks, raised up, and kissed him back. The purity in her touch almost brought him to his knees.

  “Thank you.” Con touched his forehead to hers.

  Even in the dark, he could see her blush. “You’re welcome.”

  He brushed his mouth across hers again. “We should go back now.”

  Charlotte hadn’t known what to expect, but it was not a kiss as sweet as Kenilworth’s. Once, she had seen Merton kiss Dotty. That kiss had been demanding and full of passion. If Kenilworth had attempted anything like that, Charlotte would have hit him and run. Yet now, now that she had felt his lips on hers again and his hands tightening around her waist, she almost looked forward to the other type of kiss . . .

  Books by Ella Quinn

  The Marriage Game

  THE SEDUCTION OF LADY PHOEBE

  THE SECRET LIFE OF MISS ANNA MARSH

  THE TEMPTATION OF LADY SERENA

  DESIRING LADY CARO

  ENTICING MISS EUGENIE VILLARET

  A KISS FOR LADY MARY

  LADY BERESFORD’S LOVER

  MISS FEATHERTON’S CHRISTMAS PRINCE

  The Worthingtons

  THREE WEEKS TO WED

  WHEN A MARQUIS CHOOSES A BRIDE

  IT STARTED WITH A KISS

  THE MARQUIS AND I

  Novellas

  MADELEINE’S CHRISTMAS WISH

  THE SECOND TIME AROUND

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  The MARQUIS And I

  ELLA QUINN

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  A KISS FROM A MARQUIS

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  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

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2018 by Ella Quinn

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-1-4201-4516-8

  eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4517-5

  eISBN-10: 1-4201-4517-7

  For my granddaughters, Josephine and Vivienne.

  You are the lights of my life.

  And to my wonderful husband,

  who puts up with living with an author.

  Thank you, sweetheart.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Anyone involved in publishing knows it takes a team effort to get a book from that inkling in an author’s head to the printed or digital page. I’d like to thank my beta readers, Jenna, Doreen, and Margaret for their comments and suggestions. To my agents, Deidre Knight and Janna Bonikowski, for helping me think through parts of this book and for their advice for Charlotte not to give in too easily. I’m quite sure Kenilworth didn’t like it, but oh, well.

  To my wonderful editor, John Scognamiglio, who loves my books enough to contract them for Kensington. To the Kensington team, Vida, Jane, and Lauren who do such a tremendous job of publicity. And to the copy-editors who find all the niggling mistakes I never am able to see.

  I’d also like to thank the lovely Tessa Dare for the ideas she gave me. Last, but certainly not least, to my readers. Without you, none of this would be worth it. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for loving my stories!

  I love to hear from my readers, so feel free to contact me on my website or on Facebook if you have questions. Those links and my newsletter link can be found at www.ellaquinnauthor.com.

  On to the next book!

  Ella

  Chapter One

  Berkeley Square, Mayfair, London, England, May 1815

  Prickles of fear ran down Lady Charlotte Carpenter’s spine, and she fought back the gorge rising in her throat. Inside her gloves her hands grew damp.

  Not even as a child when she was afraid of thunder had she been so terrified. This must be what her sister Grace and her friend Dotty had felt when they were abducted. Charlotte drew a shaky breath. Well, they had survived and so would she.

  She had been shoved roughly into the coach, hitting her knees on the door edge and almost falling to the floor. Fortunately, her basket had broken her descent before meaty hands had grabbed her, placing her none too gently on the forward-facing seat.

  “Don’t give us no trouble, and we won’t hurt ye,” the ruffian across from her had said.

  Not looking up, she’d nodded.

  After her sister had been kidnapped, Mattheus, the Earl of Worthington, her brother-in-law and guardian, had ensured that she, Louisa, her sister—actually her sister-in-law, yet Charlotte considered all her sisters-in-law sisters—who had just wed, and Augusta their sister who was three years younger than Charlotte and Louisa, had been given lessons on how to protect themselves and what to do if something like this happened to them.

  All she could do was trust her
lessons would stand in her good stead and remember all she had been taught. She should concentrate on that instead of panicking. Yet for what seemed like an eternity, her mind refused to cooperate. Closing her eyes, she focused on gathering her scattered wits.

  Gradually, pieces of what she had learned began coming back to her. The first thing she had been taught was to let the curs believe she was under their control. That was supposed to lull them into thinking she would not try to escape. Under the circumstances, that wasn’t very hard to do. She was under their control. Both the men were much stronger than her, making escape more difficult.

  Second, she was to take inventory of what she had that could help her flee their control. That should make her feel better. She had a dagger strapped to her leg. Although she needed much more practice to be able to draw it out properly. Her basket held a pistol made just for her—loaded—and with extra bullets and powder. Unfortunately, her kitten, Collette, was in the basket as well. But she was in the harness and lead Charlotte had fashioned for the cat. Both items would serve her well if she had to abandon the basket. She tightened her hands on the wicker handle.

  And the third part of the plan was to think of a way to escape. That might be a little more difficult. She had not intended to go farther than across the square to Worthington House; therefore, she had no money. Even if she did manage to get away from the brutes, she wouldn’t get very far without funds. On the other hand, she knew how to tool a carriage, so she might be able to drive the coach if she could steal it.

  Her breathing steadied and she began to feel a little more in control. As long as she ignored the brutes who had kidnapped her, that is.

  A friend of Matt’s had also taught her and her sister to pick a lock. It might take her a while, but she was sure she could do it if she had to.

  She was wearing sensible leather half boots, and a twill walking gown, practical and sturdy enough not to fall apart if she had to go traipsing across the country.

  There, already her heart had stopped beating as if it would fly out of her chest.

  “Got any victuals in that basket of yourn?” the man across from her asked.

  Oh, Lord, Collette! Who knew what they’d do to her kitten. Charlotte couldn’t let them look in the basket. “No. I was going to fetch some things.”

  He leaned back against the worn cushions again, and she resisted the urge to breathe a sigh of relief.

  Her abductors were dressed neatly, in a middling sort of way, even if they didn’t speak like one would expect. They wore breeches instead of pantaloons, and Belcher scarves rather than cravats. At least they didn’t smell or appear overly dirty. That was helpful as her stomach was still a mass of knots. It wouldn’t take much to make her ill.

  If she only knew in what direction they were traveling it might help her form a scheme to escape.

  A few minutes later, a large estate situated on a hill caught her attention. “What is the building over there?”

  The kidnapper across from her slammed the shade down. “None of yer business is what it is.”

  “Shut yer gob, Dan. We ain’t supposed to talk to her.” Next to her the other scoundrel shoved his chin forward as if daring Dan to defy him.

  “An whatcha think the mort’s goin’ ta do? Jump out and run for help?” The man called Dan sneered. “She’d haf ta get away from both of us. I only closed it so no one could see inside.”

  Charlotte’s cheek felt as if it was burning, as if the blackguard next to her was staring at her face, but she did not dare return his gaze.

  “We got our orders,” the man next to her said. “I don’t need you ta put us aground.”

  Dan shrugged, and the burning feeling went away.

  She had no idea how long they had been traveling, but surely they would stop to change horses soon. Perhaps then she could find someone to help her. She wondered how her kitten was doing, but she didn’t dare show any interest in the basket. The two villains would be bound to notice, then they would find the pistol and her cat.

  The men had once more lapsed into silence. Dan’s eyelids drifted shut, but she doubted the other man would be so lax. Not that she could have jumped out of the coach in any event. The traffic had finally lessened, and they were moving along at a faster, steadier pace.

  Sometime later, Dan’s foot pushed against her shoe. She moved her leg to give him more room, but the foot followed.

  Suddenly, he yelped, and when she sneaked a look he was holding on to his knee. The other man must have kicked him. “What’d ye do that fer?”

  “Leave the mort alone,” the blackguard next to her growled. “No talking. No touching.”

  She should be relieved. Someone obviously wanted her unharmed. Yet that begged the question of who could have ordered her abduction? She was positive that she had not made any enemies. Matt kept such a careful eye on her, no fortune hunters had been allowed within several yards of her or Louisa.

  She gave an imperceptible shudder. Going down that line of thought would not help her escape. All it would do was distract her. And possibly frighten her even more than she already was.

  The coachman’s horn sounded, and the carriage began to slow. They must be at a toll. But before she could think what to do, they sped up again. Well, drat! She’d have to be faster the next time. A short while later she noticed a pattern of speeding up then slowing down, but not for the tolls. The driver must be sparing the horses so that they would not have to be changed.

  “I have ta go ta the bog house,” Dan said in a sullen tone. “Surprised she ain’t whined about wantin’ ta go. Ye musta scared the piss outta her.” He laughed at his own joke.

  The man next to her grunted.

  Well, if they were going to stop somewhere, perhaps she could relieve herself and find help. Thinking about it made the urge almost too strong to hold. “I must use the necessary very soon.”

  “Burt, ye can stop here. I’ll watch the mort.” Dan leered at her, turning Charlotte’s stomach.

  “We’re almost to the inn,” Burt said. “If ye say a word, or try to get anyone to help ye, yer ladyship, I’ll bind and gag ye. Understand?”

  Charlotte nodded. The last thing she wanted was to be constrained in any manner.

  Several minutes later the coach came to a halt.

  “See ta the horses,” Burt barked, and Dan jumped down quick as a rabbit. An ostler came around and let down the steps. The boy helped her out, but Burt grabbed onto her elbow and guided her into the inn.

  “Sir,” the landlord said, hurrying up to them. “How can I help you?”

  “I’m Smith. Ye have rooms fer us.”

  “Oh, yes. Yes, indeed I do.” The innkeeper cast Charlotte a disapproving glance. “Right this way.”

  Bother. The landlord had probably been told some Banbury story just as the couple who’d held her friend Dotty had been told. Two days before her wedding, Dotty, now the Marchioness of Merton, had been abducted by a man who wished to stop her from marrying Merton. She’d been taken to a house in Richmond and the caretakers had been informed she was a runaway. By sheer luck, Matt and Merton had discovered where she was, and the men had ridden ventre à terre to her aid. By the time Merton arrived, Dotty had already found a way to escape.

  If only Matt were not out of Town. But he was, as were Dotty and Merton. Charlotte did not even know if anyone had seen her abducted. If that were the case, there was only one thing to do. She would simply have to find a way to escape by herself.

  * * *

  “My lord, my lord!” Constantine, Marquis of Kenilworth, glanced at the crazed man in black waving to him whilst running down the street.

  Good God! It was Thorton, his friend the Earl of Worthington’s butler. What the devil was going on?

  Drawing his phaeton to the pavement, Con slowed the horses, bringing them to a halt.

  “My lord.” With a shaking hand, the servant pointed at a black coach driving down the street. “You must go after them. They took Lady Charlotte.”
/>   “Lady Charlotte?” He could have sworn Worthington’s wife’s name was Grace.

  “Lady Worthington’s sister.”

  “Where’s Worthington?” Somewhere close, Con hoped.

  “His lordship is out of Town with her ladyship for a few days.” The butler glanced worriedly at the coach. “Hurry, please, my lord. You must save her.”

  He glanced around, but for some reason, no one he knew was in the square.

  Bloody hell!

  This is not what he’d planned to do this afternoon.

  “Tell me everything you know while I turn this rig around.” The sooner Con took care of this problem, the faster he could get back to his own business . . . and his mistress.

  “Lady Charlotte was crossing the square from Stanwood House, where his lord and ladyship’s brothers and sisters live, to Worthington House, when two blackguards grabbed her. They threw her in that carriage and drove off.” The butler wrung his hands.

  “Did she not have a maid or footman with her?” He couldn’t imagine Worthington being so careless with his charge.

  “He did try to stop them, but it was too late.” The butler frowned as if he was still trying to figure out how he had failed to protect the lady. “After Lady Worthington—” The lines bracketing his mouth deepened. “What I mean to say is that for the first few weeks after his lordship’s wedding, there was more vigilance, but the children go back and forth so often, we didn’t think . . .” The butler took out a handkerchief and mopped his brow. “There was no reason to believe she or the others would be in danger.”

  Con wanted to ask just how many children there were that Worthington would occupy two town houses, but that question would have to wait until later.

  “Is it possible she eloped?” As scandalous as it was, the dash to Gretna Green wasn’t that uncommon. Although, it generally did not involve bullies.