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  THE MARQUIS SHE’S BEEN WAITING FOR

  “Dorie, my lady.” Alex stood by the library table looking more handsome than he had a right to be. Ambling toward her as if she were a frightened animal that might flee, he held out his hands. “I have come to propose properly.”

  Instead of taking her fingers, he placed his hands on her shoulders and the heat from his body warmed her, but at the same time, brought forth all the fears she’d had for the past weeks. “I thought you were going to offer for Miss Chatham. I had—” His lips descended to Dorie’s, claiming them, and his tongue swept into her mouth. She’d never felt anything so good. No wonder kissing was forbidden for unmarried ladies.

  His hands moved from her shoulders down her arms, and around her waist as he drew her against his hard body. “Never.” He stared into her eyes, his green gaze not wavering. “I have never wanted anyone but you.”

  “I do not—” He kissed her before she could argue with him. He stroked her back and cheek, causing frissons of pleasure to leap and cascade through her body. She was bereft when his lips left her mouth and he pressed kisses on her jaw and neck…

  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 MARQUIS SHE’S BEEN WAITING FOR

  The Worthingtons

  THREE WEEKS TO WED

  WHEN A MARQUIS CHOOSES A BRIDE

  IT STARTED WITH A KISS

  THE MARQUIS AND I

  YOU NEVER FORGET YOUR FIRST EARL

  BELIEVE IN ME

  Novellas

  MADELEINE’S CHRISTMAS WISH

  THE SECOND TIME AROUND

  I’LL ALWAYS LOVE YOU

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  Table of Contents

  THE MARQUIS SHE’S BEEN WAITING FOR

  Books by Ella Quinn

  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

  Author’s Note

  The Marquis She’s Been Waiting For

  Ella Quinn

  LYRICAL PRESS

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  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.

  LYRICAL PRESS BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2019 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.

  All Kensington titles, imprints, and distributed lines are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotion, premiums, fund-raising, educational, or institutional use.

  Special book excerpts or customized printings can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write or phone the office of the Kensington Sales Manager: Kensington Publishing Corp., 119 West 40th Street, New York, NY 10018. Attn. Sales Department. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.

  Lyrical Press and Lyrical Press logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  First Electronic Edition: September 2019

  ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0228-0 (ebook)

  ISBN-10: 1-5161-0228-2 (ebook)

  First Print Edition: September 2019

  ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0227-3

  ISBN-10: 1-5161-0227-4

  Printed in the United States of America

  Dedication

  This book is for my granddaughters, Josephine and Vivienne, and for every girl or woman who has always dreamed of her perfect gentleman.

  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. My agents, Deidre Knight and Janna Bonikowski, for helping me think through parts of this book.

  My wonderful editor, John Scognamiglio, who loves my books enough to contract them for Kensington. 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.

  When I have naming problems, I turn to the ladies in The Worthingtons Facebook group. Thank you to Monique Daoust for Titian and Nell Norwood for Willa.

  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!

  CHAPTER ONE

  “She did what?” Alexander, Marquis of Exeter, bellowed. He pressed his thumb and forefinger on either side of his nose trying to calm down. His younger sisters’ eyes widened, and they became very still. Blast him for being an oaf. Thinking to make them more comfortable, he had called them down to meet with him in the morning room, a bright parlor with cheery yellow curtains that looked out onto the garden, instead of his study. “I apologize. I should not have used that tone. May we begin again?” His sisters, Lady Phillida Endicott, age fourteen, and Lady Penelope Endicott, age sixteen, were seated as though their torsos had been tied to boards. The girls nodded.

  “Perhaps some tea would help.” Penelope reached over and tugged the bell-pull twice. “That’s what Mama”—her voice faded—“well, it will taste good.”

  “I think it’s an excellent idea.” Alex gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Although he feared it was more of a grimace. After all, it wasn’t their fault their mother had run mad. “I look forward to a good cup of tea. The one thing none of the Europeans have succeeded in doing is making a proper cup of tea.” That was enough of that. It might be better to change the topic of conversation for a while. “Do you wish to know anything about my travels?”

  “I do.” Phillida relaxed a little. “Is Paris as beautiful
as everyone says it is? I have heard it’s wonderful.”

  Alex briefly wondered who told them that, but decided not to ask. Across from him on the other sofa, the girls asked questions about his travels until Coyne, Father’s butler, now Alex’s butler, appeared with a tea tray. He waited until Penelope poured before returning to his questions.

  “Now, tell me again”—he was desperately hoping he had not heard them correctly the first time—“why Mama is not here.”

  His sisters exchanged a look, then Penelope heaved a long sigh. “After she received your letter stating when you thought you would arrive, she and Mr. Colyear—”

  “He is the Earl of Portmore now,” Phillida interpolated.

  “Yes, Lord Portmore.” Penelope’s mouth tightened. “She and Lord Portmore brought us here, then left for Scotland. Mama explained that he had waited for as long as he could, but now that you would be here soon, they had to travel to his estate…” Penelope’s sentence trailed off again. The room fell silent as the girls sipped their tea. Eventually, she glanced up at Alex, and he was sure her eyes were moister than before. “She still loves us, but she explained that she and his lordship were very much in love, and Father had made you our guardian so she could not take us with her.”

  “We cannot truly blame her.” Phillida’s lower lip trembled as if she was attempting not to burst into tears. “She cried a lot.”

  He didn’t remember his mother being unhappy. “When was this?”

  His sisters exchanged another look, and Penelope replied, “For a long time.”

  “She was happy with us, I think.” A line appeared between his younger sister’s brows. “She took us on picnics and for walks, and she would laugh, but whenever Papa was home she cried a lot too.”

  “It’s all right that you did not know.” Penelope used a tone meant to reassure him. “You were not here to see it.” She took a drink of tea, then her eyes widened. “Oh, I almost forgot. She left you a letter. It is on your desk.”

  Alex hoped the letter was more informative than his sisters had been. He hated asking them to tell him the story. All of this had to be much more difficult for them than they had been letting on. Draining his cup, he wished it were brandy instead of tea. Although that would probably not help this situation and might make it a great deal worse. “Who has been taking care of you?”

  “Miss Rivers and Nurse, but she treats us like babies,” Phillida said.

  “Nurse, not Miss Rivers,” Penelope clarified as if he would not know that. She’d been his nurse as well.

  “Lady Dorie comes by to see us,” Phillida added as she took another biscuit.

  “Lady Dorie?” Who the devil was she?

  “Her real name is Dorcus, but she doesn’t like it, so everyone calls her Lady Dorie,” Penelope explained. She drew her brows down. “I think Judith asked her to help.”

  “But it could have been Mama,” Phillida said.

  “Why are you not with Judith?” At five and twenty, their sister, Judith, Viscountess Knutsford, was the eldest of his sisters and closest to him in age. What he’d like to know is why the devil she hadn’t taken the younger ones to her house when Mama left.

  Penelope set her cup on her lap. “She just had a baby.”

  “His name is Louis.” His youngest sister reached for another piece of lemon cake.

  Alex wished he was hungry, but he just felt slightly nauseated. Their other sister, Marcella, the Countess of Bude, could have taken the girls as well. “And Marcella?”

  “She and Richard are in Paris,” Penelope said as if that explained everything. What it did explain was how his sisters had heard about Paris.

  The real question was did none of the females in his family have a sense of familial duty? Come to think of it, what were the girls doing in Town instead of in the country? This time he prayed the letter had answers. He obviously wasn’t going to get them from his sisters.

  “Lady Dorie is very organized.” Penelope offered him the last slice of cake, and he shook his head.

  His sister’s non sequitur recalled him to the one woman who had, apparently, taken an interest in the girls. “Is she?” His question was more a musing, but the girls nodded. “Who exactly is she, and what exactly does she organize?”

  Both girls had cake in their mouths and couldn’t answer him. Penelope was the first to swallow. “She is the Marquis of Huntingdon’s daughter. She goes over the weekly menus with Cook, and the household accounts with Mrs. Wooton”—their housekeeper—“and looks over our lessons, and answers the letters from Lacy”—the under-housekeeper—“at home.”

  In other words, she had taken over their mother’s responsibilities. “Is there any reason your governess cannot attend to the household matters?”

  “Miss Rivers says she is totally incapable of managing a large household.” Penelope placed her plate on the low table between the sofas.

  “She is a scholar, and household management is not her forte.” Phillida wrinkled her nose. “If she was responsible for the meals we would only eat vegetables.” What the devil? Brandy was looking better and better. “Her parents eschew consuming animal flesh.”

  Penelope nodded. “They are extremely forward thinking.”

  Too forward thinking for him. “I suppose I should be grateful that Lady Dorie agreed to help.”

  The clock chimed the hour, and the girls rose.

  “It is time we returned to our lessons,” Penelope said.

  Alex quickly came to his feet. “I shall see you at dinner.”

  His youngest sister stared at him in shock, but Penelope just nodded. He strolled into the hall with them before heading to the study.

  The letter was in the middle of the very organized large oak desk. Picking it up, he popped open the seal. What surprised him most was its brevity.

  My dear Endicott (I suppose it will take me a while to become used to calling you Exeter),

  I know finding me gone will have been surprising—more of a shock—however, you should know that Portmore (the former Mr. Colyear) and I became good friends over the year before your father’s death. Shortly thereafter, he inherited his uncle’s title. We have grown to love each other deeply, and he asked me to marry him. I truly did wait as long as I could for you to return. However, news from his estate made it imperative that we travel to Scotland.

  Your devoted Mother

  So much for thinking her letter would explain things.

  Alex tugged the bell-pull. A moment later his butler entered the room and bowed. “My lord?”

  “Please ask Mrs. Wooton to attend me.” If anyone knew what was going on in this house it would be her. “And bring tea.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  While he waited, he took in the two neat stacks of paper, sharpened pens and pencils, and the precise placement of the standish and sand container. All of it much different from the haphazard way his father had kept the desk. It must be due to Lady Dorie. The rest of the room was as he’d remembered it. All dark wood, leather chairs, and red Turkey carpets.

  Picking up a pencil, he tapped it trying to recall if he had met her. He knew her brother, the Earl of Huntley, when they were younger. Huntley had a few years on Alex, but they’d been at Eton together. He knew nothing about any sisters. He didn’t recall her being out when he’d left for his Grand Tour, but that didn’t mean anything. He hadn’t been in the market for a wife.

  A knock sounded on the door. “Come.”

  Wooton entered followed by a footman carrying tea. He waved her to one of the heavy leather chairs in front of the desk and waited until the footman left and she poured. He really was going to require brandy after this was over.

  “I suppose you want to know what’s been going on,” she said in her matter-of-fact way.

  “If you wouldn’t mind. Neither my sisters’ explanation nor my mother’s letter
was at all helpful.”

  Below the lace edge of her cap, her forehead wrinkled. “How much do you want to know?”

  “I have surmised that my mother was unhappy.” But did Alex really want to know about his parents’ marriage? That, though, might explain the current situation. He heaved a sigh. In for a penny, in for a pound. “You might as well tell me everything.”

  “If you wish.” Her tone suggested that he might not want the whole story. “Right after Lady Phillida was born her ladyship found out your father had a child born at the same time as your sister. Unlike many ladies, she never forgave his lordship and held it against him.” That would explain Mama’s unhappiness. “A little over a year ago the old steward retired, and Mr. Colyear came to take his place. He was a big, strapping Scotsman, and a person would have to be blind not to have seen the attraction between him and your lady mother. I don’t believe they acted on their feelings until his lordship died.” Wooton’s brows drew down as she sipped her tea. “It’s my belief that what caused her ladyship to leave in such a hurry is that she’s breeding.”

  Alex almost dropped his cup. “Breeding?”

  She held up her hand. “Don’t ask me how I know. There are some things I will not discuss with a man, even if I do work for him.”

  He was pretty sure he could infer how the housekeeper knew. “I would not ask you to tell me. Why did they come to Town instead of leaving from Longwood?”

  “They married by special license, and her ladyship felt that they should be close to your sisters.” Wooton frowned. “Not that they have been any help. Fortunately, when her ladyship spoke to Lady Huntingdon, she said she was sure her daughter, Lady Dorie, would be happy to keep an eye on things here. And I’m that glad she agreed.”

  He found himself looking forward to meeting the lady. “I suppose I’ll make her acquaintance when she comes by again.”

  Wooton looked at him like he’d run mad. “I doubt she’ll be by, my lord.”

  “Why would you say that?” Lady Dorie didn’t sound like the type of woman who would abandon her duties.