Tempted by a Wicked Marquess (Preview)

Chapter One

Miss Marianne Beauclerk was quite content to stand at the edge of the dancefloor while all others enjoyed the vigour of dancing. Their hostess’s fine decorations and exquisite taste, with all the garlands, fine art and porcelain statues, were much safer to Marianne than the gentlemen and noblemen who so often glanced in her direction, yet luckily never quite approached her for a dance.  

She could not help but smile to watch her friend, Lady Georgina Meyrick, prancing about, having a whale of a time. 

With the ball in full swing and, in true Lady Deniver fashion, quite rowdy, nobody really gave much notice to her standing silently, watching all the goings on. All save for Georgina, who adamantly returned to her side between every dance, imploring her to take to the dancefloor herself. 

She was all too happy to see the excitement and merriment upon her friend’s face, living vicariously through her just as she so often did with her books in her father’s library late at night after everyone else had gone to bed. 

Marianne watched as the latest dance ended, and yet another gentleman led her friend to the edge of the dancefloor. Georgina appeared to have been dancing all night, yet she still looked flawless, politely thanking the latest gentleman just as she had all the others. 

And when she arrived back at Marianne’s side alone, Marianne was more than ready for what she knew was coming next. She could see it written plainly upon her friend’s face. 

“How are your toes?” Marianne asked, gazing out across the dancefloor in the hopes that she could stifle her smile. Georgina grabbed Marianne’s arm with a huff and used her as a perch to help herself lean down to rub a shin for a moment. 

“Anyone would have thought he was wearing boots made of lead,” Georgina grumbled quietly, glancing in the direction of the man she had just danced with to ensure he was not within earshot. 

He was not, though he was smiling at the both of them, and he raised a glass of wine in their direction as if to wish them a good evening. Both women forced smiles for the gentleman before turning away, rolling their eyes only when they were certain that he could not see. 

“You really ought to be out on the dancefloor too, Marianne,” Georgina said, straightening up and smoothing down the front of her pretty pink gown. “You will never find a husband if you stand here all night.” 

“I would much rather leave the toe stomping to you,” Marianne chuckled though deep down, she knew her best friend was right. One way or another, she had to secure herself a good match on the marriage mart or risk missing out on one entirely. 

It wasn’t just about what she wanted but also about what her parents deserved. After all, her father hadn’t worked his way up in the business world, becoming one of the wealthiest businessmen in London, just to see all his hard work go to waste. Her family was so well respected and wealthy, in fact, that her prospects for marriage were far higher than they ought to have been. 

All night she had felt the eye of several young men upon her, from gentlemen to noblemen alike. And as though Georgina had noticed, she whispered out of the corner of her mouth, “Don’t look now, but Wilmot is watching you.” 

“Please, tell me he is not coming over,” Marianne hissed back under her breath. She did not dare to look in the direction that her friend was simply for the fact she might encourage him over. 

Though Mr Wilmot Ashfield was a nice enough Gentleman, she did not like the idea of encouraging him. After all, though he had not openly expressed any wish to court her, it was more than a little obvious that he intended to do so. He was always hanging around a little like a bad smell, and though Marianne would have liked to, she knew that she could not openly reject any advance he made towards her. Her parents would never allow it.

“He isn’t yet,” Georgina said, and Marianne felt only a little relief at her friend’s words. It was only a matter of time before he did. In fact, Marianne was surprised that they had been at the ball for more than an hour already without his coming to find them. “Though I imagine he shall soon pluck up the courage.” 

“I wish that he wouldn’t,” Marianne admitted aloud, and the way that Georgina immediately rolled her eyes at her annoyed her greatly. 

“What happened to all your grand ideas for mystery and adventure?” the lady demanded with a hand upon her hip. 

Marianne scoffed at that. “Georgina, there isn’t a single mysterious thing about Wilmot, nor is there anything adventurous about him.” 

“How will you ever know if you do not allow him the chance to surprise you?” Georgina protested, raising one perfectly shaped brown eye. 

Marianne looked pointedly at her friend. This was not the first time that they had shared such a conversation, nor would it be their last. Though Marianne was encouraged by her friends and even her parents to give Wilmot a chance, she had only ever been willing to give him the bare minimum of attention to keep everyone happy. The thought of allowing herself to be distracted by somebody she had zero interest in left her certain that if she did, she would entirely miss the man she was supposed to find instead. 

“You and I both know that there is nothing surprising about Wilmot,” Marianne stated, scowling at her friend. The look that crossed Georgina’s face then, even more so the way she glanced past her, made Marianne’s skin crawl. “Don’t tell me that he is coming over here.” 

“Okay, I won’t,” Georgina smirked at her with a mischievous glint in her eye. 

“I suddenly feel the need to get some fresh air,” Marianne began, moving away from her friend. She had gone no further than a few steps before she found her path blocked most obtrusively by a far taller and broader person. 

Practically walking into the human wall, she stumbled backwards. “Oh, my goodness! Pardon me!” she exclaimed instinctively, startled as the man whipped around and reached for her wrist to steady her. 

Lifting her gaze, she met the dark brown eyes that looked back at her, and her heart caught in her throat. The owner of said eyes was far more handsome than one might have imagined. Though she distantly recognised him, Marianne wasn’t at all sure where from. 

“Forgive me, my lord,” she said, dropping down into a curtsey, deciding that it was a safe bet to assume that she was faced with a nobleman considering the high ratio of them at the ball. “I was not looking where I was going. I apologise.” 

“The fault is my own,” the man responded, and with a raised eyebrow, he added, “My lady?” 

Marianne quickly shook her head. “No, my lord. I am…” 

“Lord Prescott really ought to have been looking where he was going,” announced the black-haired man at the nobleman’s side. Clapping Lord Prescott upon the shoulder with his free hand, he added, “Ought you not, Austin?” 

And just like that, Marianne’s heart skipped another beat. Lord Austin Prescott, the Marquess of Bathe.  There had been plenty of rumours about the Marquess of Bathe over the years: that he was a rogue and a rake and yet somehow chivalrous and well-respected among the ton. Though not exactly the kind of man you took home to meet daddy if you were looking for any kind of love match. 

Both Marianne and her friends had been warned off men like him, and she was certainly inclined to listen to those warnings. Though, seeing the smile upon the dark-haired nobleman’s face and the way he looked at her made her almost think otherwise. He didn’t just give her a cursory glance and a polite smile. He looked at her, really looked at her as though he was seeing deep into her soul, and when he smiled, her heart beat so fast she was sure that all in the ballroom could hear it. 

“The fault is most definitely my own, Miss….” 

The way he held out his gloved hand, his eyes never leaving hers, almost made Marianne miss the way that he trailed off. 

“This is Miss Marianne Beauclerk, my lord,” Georgina said, stepping in to the rescue, “And allow me to introduce myself. I am Lady Georgina Meyrick.” 

The way that Georgina fluttered her lashes at the Marquess told Marianne that she wasn’t the only one who had noticed just how handsome he was. 

“Lady Georgina Meyrick, Miss Marianne Beauclerk, please allow me to introduce you to my good friend, Mr Christopher Heathfield,” the Marquess announced, gesturing towards the black-haired gentleman beside him. Though she had heard little of the man, she guessed that if he was a close friend of the Marquess, he likely had a similar reputation. It might well have been rude of her to assume, but it was rarely a wrong assumption, and she thought it need not matter so long as she did not mention it out loud. 

“Well, there then,” Mr Heathfield smirked at both of the women and clapped Lord Prescott upon his shoulder once more. “Now that we are all acquainted, we must all feel much more comfortable.” 

Marianne had to admit that the man was not wrong. In fact, she felt more comfortable in the presence of the Marquess than she had with many of the men at the ball. Perhaps it was because she felt she already knew all there was to know about him. He was a roguish rake with a noble father and a lower-class mother. He was so often the talk of the ton that she couldn’t imagine he had anything left to surprise her with, and yet, he continued to look at her in that way, making her feel as though she was truly being seen for the first time in her life. And somehow, she felt as though there was something hiding just beneath the surface, something that he didn’t want anyone to see. 

“Are you both having a pleasant evening?” Lord Prescott asked, barely offering Georgina a glance before his attention was right back on Marianne. Her cheeks burned red hot, and she was sure that there wasn’t enough powder in the world to hide her current complexion. She only hoped that the shadows cast by the hanging chandeliers above the dancefloor would mask some of it. 

“Most certainly, my lord,” Marianne said quickly when she felt Georgina’s elbow prick her in the ribs. She quickly realised that she had been staring back at the Marquess, scrutinising him silently for far too long. “Lady Deniver always hosts the most fabulous events.” 

“Do not tell that to my mother,” Mr Heathfield chuckled. “She is always adamant that her events are the best of the Season.” 

“Then I am certain it must be so, sir,” Marianne said, humouring him though truly she had heard little of him or his family and knew not whether his mother was indeed a fine event planner. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Marianne watched Lord Prescott take a swift glance around the room with all its decorative beauty and all the opulence of its guests. 

“I must agree with Miss Marianne,” he announced, “Lady Deniver has quite outdone herself.”

And for the first time in her life, Marianne did not feel as though a man was agreeing with her for any reason other than that he believed in what she was saying. She felt supported by the Marquess, as though he was physically holding her up, and suddenly her knees grew weak. 

“Lord Prescott!” The yell came from somewhere in the crowd behind the Marquess, and although the change in expression on his face suggested he had heard, he did not immediately look away. Instead, he held out his hand once more, and this time, Marianne actually got the chance to take hold of it before they were distracted again. 

“Forgive me, Miss, but I am required elsewhere,” the Marquess announced, bowing before her to press his lips to her knuckles. Even as he did, his gaze did not falter from hers, and for a moment, Marianne felt as though they were the only two in the room. He made her feel as though she was the only woman there who mattered. 

“Lord Prescott! Mr Heathfield!” The call came again, closer this time, and a third gentleman appeared. He was rosy-cheeked and perhaps a little drunk, and Marianne most definitely did not recognise him. 

“Please, excuse us, my lady, miss,” Mr Heathfield said apologetically, bowing just as the Marquess had, though without kissing anyone’s hand. “It appears our friend is in need of us.” 

Marianne ought to have known that the gentleman stumbling towards them like a drunken bull was one of their own. Rogues, rakes, and drunkards were often found together, though she thought it quite unexpected that one should be quite so loud and unceremonious at one of Lady Deniver’s balls. She could imagine that the gentleman, whoever he was, would not be invited again next year. 

“Please, do not let us keep you,” Marianne insisted, smiling warmly at the Marquess. She clasped her hands before her and watched him go, following after Mr Heathfield in the direction of the hollering man. 

He was quieted abruptly, and Marianne watched as the two strong-armed him from the room. For a moment, Marianne almost felt sorry for the Marquess. He would likely be attached to some other rumour or scandal before morning. 

Why should I care? She thought, but even as she turned back to Georgina, she could not help but think about how he had made her feel. 

“Are you alright?” Georgina asked the moment that they were gone. Yet Marianne barely heard her. She was too busy looking after the Marquess and his friends, feeling oddly intrigued by the man’s lack of trying to charm her, and still, somehow, he had done just that. 

“Marianne, are you well?” Georgina demanded, gripping hold of Marianne’s gloved forearm. Even through the silk of her gloves, Marianne could feel her friend gripping tightly with concern. 

“Yes,” Marianne responded, clearing her throat before she added, “Yes, I am fine.” 

When she looked around at Georgina, it was clear to see that her friend wasn’t entirely convinced, but she did not question any further. Instead, she said, “I will still never understand why such men are allowed in polite society.” 

The mocking tone of her voice and the way she made herself sound exactly like her mother suggested that she did not entirely agree with the statement. 

Marianne shrugged and pointed out, “They are men, and they are wealthy. Our society runs on men like them.”

“Yes. I am certain my father was just as bad before he and my mama married,” Georgina sighed deeply and rolled her eyes. “If only we were permitted to share company with such men. We might have much more fun.” 

“Georgina!” Marianne exclaimed, though deep down she knew her friend was right. Of course, men like Wilmot were handsome enough and quite wealthy and respectable, but they so often lacked an air of excitement and adventure, something which Marianne craved as a dehydrated man craved water. 

Still, her good sense had always won out, and she had always stuck to the strict rules of the ton and her parents, even the unspoken rules that were just common sense. Yet still, her heart yearned to let her follow the Marquess and his friends into the night. She was certain that even if they found themselves on the wrong side of rumour the next morning, they were definitely having more fun than she was. 

“I think perhaps it might be best if we steer clear of the Marquess for the rest of the evening,” Georgina suggested, linking her arm with Marianne’s and turning her away from the direction where the men had disappeared out of the double glass doors onto the terrace, likely to get their friend some fresh air. “We have likely already been noticed with him.” 

Georgina glanced around discreetly though Marianne need not have looked to know that she was right. All it took was a second or one wrong look or for one respected member of the ton to get the wrong impression. 

“Agreed.” She nodded, clasping her friend’s arm in return. 

Almost the moment that they turned back towards the dancefloor, their good friend, Miss Martha Grey, appeared at their side with a happy smile upon her face. 

“Are you both having a good time?” Martha asked, and her question reminded Marianne of the Marquess and how he had asked the very same thing. 

The strawberry-blonde banker’s daughter stepped up beside Marianne and took hold of her other arm. Standing together, the three women surveyed the ballroom, and even before she spoke, Marianne got the sense that she knew exactly what Martha was going to ask. 

“Have you seen Wilmot?” The smile as she asked the question was undeniable though whenever she was asked, she would never admit any kind of romantic feeling towards the gentleman. 

“I have not,” Marianne responded. It was not entirely a lie. She had not seen him though she had sensed him watching her when Georgina had pointed him out over her shoulder earlier that evening. She was still quite shocked at the fact he had not yet come upon them. Perhaps seeing them with the Marquess had put him off for a little while. Wilmot had never really appeared very comfortable around high-ranking and handsome men, almost as though even he knew he could not quite measure up, and so it left him greatly insecure and even a little twitchy. It was one thing that left Marianne feeling sorry for the gentleman, though not sorry enough to take pity upon him and begin a courtship just for the sake of placating her parents. 

“I am certain I saw him by the drinks table earlier on,” Georgina explained, pushing up on her tiptoes to look in the same direction. “Though I do not see him there now.” 

“What a shame. I was hoping that he and the others might invite us all out onto the dancefloor,” Martha sighed deeply. By others, Marianne knew that she meant the few other gentlemen who Wilmot was acquainted with in a manner of friendship, those who could perhaps be even duller than he was at times, and she could think of nothing worse. Even if it was for the sake of her friend who so clearly liked to share in Wilmot’s company.

“Perhaps we ought to go and find them?” Georgina suggested, discreetly digging her elbow into Marianne’s ribs once more. Marianne gritted her teeth and glowered at her friend. Going anywhere near Wilmot did not bode well for Marianne, not with Georgina and her parents so adamant that she should give him a chance. Though if Martha wished to be in his company, then she might at least find a small reprieve from his attentions. 

“Why don’t the two of you go ahead?” Marianne suggested, slipping out from between her two friends to link their arms together without her. “I think I shall go over to the drinks table myself. I am quite parched. Would you like anything?” 

“No, thank you,” Martha responded, and even before Georgina could say a word, Martha was dragging her away in the opposite direction, clearly on the hunt for Wilmot and the others. 

Marianne was simply relieved to be left alone. It was far better than being strong-armed into a dance with a man she had no interest in. If only I could return home to the library, she thought with a deep sigh. Her books were far better than anything she might experience here, even at one of Lady Deniver’s balls.

Chapter Two

The ball ought to have been just like any other, long and boring and with Austin feeling as though he couldn’t wait to get to the much better part of the evening that included a young woman he had met previously at the Old Dog Tavern. But strangely enough, Austin found Lady Deniver’s ball much more entertaining than usual. 

“Would you sit up straight and compose yourself?” Christopher snapped at their friend, Mr Edward Peters, who had clearly had much too much to drink in the short time they had been in attendance at the ball. “There is no way we can take you to the Old Dog like this.” 

Austin bit back laughter as he watched Christopher slam their friend back against the balcony wall, propping him there on the marble bench, sitting beside him with a hand against his chest to hold him up. 

“When did you become such a spoilsport?” Edward grumbled back at him, lashing out with little more than a tap of his hand and hiccupping repeatedly. 

“When did you become such a drunken idiot?” Christopher retorted, and Austin simply stood with his arms crossed over his chest, smirking with laughter at the both of them. Knowing that soon he would be dragged in to settle things. 

Edward hiccupped once more before he responded, “I have always been one, my dear friend.” 

He began to slump sideways until Christopher gripped hold of him a little tighter. Austin rolled his eyes at the state of his friend and took the opportunity to glance back through the open ballroom doors. Though he would never entirely admit it to himself, he was looking for one face in particular. 

“I think perhaps we ought to go,” Christopher suggested. Austin just barely heard him while Edward grunted a protest of how he was having far too much fun annoying him. “Austin? Will you help me with this great lump? Austin?” 

Reluctantly, Austin turned back to his friends and shook his head. “Leave him there. It will teach him.” 

At that, Christopher raised a dark eyebrow and glowered at him. “I would have thought you would be more than ready to head off to the Old Dog by now. Isn’t your latest conquest awaiting you tonight?” 

“Of course, she is,” Austin replied, a devilish smile on his face. Christopher scowled deeply at that, and he looked even more concerned when Austin added, “But for once, I am having fun amongst our own.” 

“Who…who are you…and what have you done with…with our friend?” Edward asked between hiccups. Maybe if he hadn’t been so in his skins, he might have looked as concerned as Christopher did. 

“This doesn’t have anything to do with the pretty blonde, does it?” Christopher asked. Something about the way he said it rubbed Austin the wrong way. 

“You mean Miss Marianne Beauclerk,” he corrected with a pointed expression. “Was she pretty? I hadn’t really noticed?” 

The huff that erupted from Christopher suggested that he knew exactly where the evening was going. With one arm still wrapped around their drunken friend, he shook his head. “It is a bad idea, friend.” 

“What could possibly be bad about dancing with a beautiful woman?” Austin asked, and with a cocky grin, he added, “We are at a ball, after all.” 

It was then that Christopher seemed to give up on trying to hold up Edward. He released him, and the drunken gentleman immediately slumped forwards, looking as though he was about to keel off the bench entirely. Luckily for him, the man had the good sense to at least brace himself with his hands on his knees, even if he was swaying from side to side. Perhaps Christopher was right, and they really ought to get him home. 

“Austin, need I remind you we have always had one unspoken rule?” Christopher pointed out. At that, Austin met his friend’s gaze unwaveringly. Of course, he had not forgotten it. He had practically written said rule. “We don’t mess with the ladies of the ton.” 

“Miss Beauclerk is not a lady,” Austin assured his friend, meeting his green gaze without faltering. Christopher crossed his arms over his chest and glowered silently at the Marquess for several moments. 

Then, finally, he shook his head. “It would be a bad idea to play with the heart of any woman of the ton. You know it as well as I do.” 

“It is only a dance, my friend,” Austin chuckled, clapping his friend on the shoulder with a hefty hand. “I am not off proposing marriage.” 

Christopher eyed him closely, never blinking. “You cannot dance with her.” 

The forbidding tone of his friend’s voice only made Austin more determined. 

“Why don’t you get Edward to the carriage and send him home?” Austin suggested, changing the subject quickly. “Once it returns, you and I can go for our fun at the dog.” 

Austin gave his friend an encouraging nudge with his hand on his shoulder. 

“Austin, as your friend, I am warning you not to do anything stupid,” Christopher protested, refusing to budge even an inch. The two locked eyes and stood unmoving for several moments until Edward began to retch. Austin had to bite the inside of his lip to stop himself from smirking when Christopher grumbled under his breath, rolled his eyes, and spun around to take care of their friend. 

“You know, he’s heavier than he looks,” Christopher growled through gritted teeth even as he yanked Edward up by his arm and wrapped it around his shoulders, holding onto him with his free arm around his waist.

“I am certain you can handle him,” Austin assured him. “You would be wise to go around the back of the house so as not to be seen. I shall head back inside and ensure nobody begins to talk about our friend’s little show.” 

The look on Christopher’s face suggested he knew that was the very last thing on Austin’s mind. Even as he scowled, the Marquess returned a smile and added, “I promise I won’t do anything too stupid while you are gone.” 

Christopher did not look entirely convinced, but to Austin’s relief, he did not protest any further. Instead, he visibly gritted his teeth and started to drag Edward off into the shadows in the direction that Austin had suggested. 

The Marquess watched them go, still smiling to himself when he finally turned and headed back into the ballroom. Though deep down, he knew that his friend was right, Austin could not help but search out the pretty young woman who had so easily caught his eye. Perhaps it was the spark of surprise he had felt when she had practically walked right into his arms, or maybe it was the way her blue gaze made him want to stare into her eyes for what should have been an uncomfortable amount of time. The truth was it hadn’t been uncomfortable at all. 

Lingering at the edge of the dancefloor, moving through the crowd of people that stood between the terrace doors and the drinks table, Austin found that he was able to catch the young woman’s eye more than once. And every time he remembered Christopher’s warning, you cannot dance with her. 

Though the warning was blatant and quite straightforward, Austin found that it only made him wish to dance with the woman more. The scratching, urging sensation in his gut made him step forward more than once, only to be beaten to the punch by some man closer by. 

When he finally found his chance, he could not bring himself to miss it. The opportunity to annoy Christopher is just too great, he thought, even as he approached the young woman with his head held high and a charming smile upon his face. 

“Miss Beauclerk, I do hope I am not interrupting, but I was disappointed that I missed my opportunity earlier this evening,” he explained, even as he dipped into a bow before her, offering his hand. “Might you do me the honour of a dance?” 

The woman glanced at the dance card tied around her wrist, and for just a second, Austin was anxious that she might reject him in favour of another name already written in the space. A quick glimpse of the card itself told Austin that it was almost empty. Who would be foolish enough not to be on this woman’s dance card? Austin thought, knowing that there were more than enough young men in attendance to have her dance card full.

Without so much as a glance in the direction of her friends – who were looking quite round-eyed – Miss Beauclerk smiled sweetly and responded, “I would be honoured to dance with you, my lord.”

In the next moment, she had placed her silken gloved hand in his, and Austin was leading the beautiful woman out onto the dancefloor, her duck egg blue gown swishing as they went. 

As his luck would have it, they were to dance closely for the next dance upon everybody’s card, and he welcomed Miss Beauclerk into his arms. She moved gracefully, smiling up at him even as he placed a hand about her waist, and she placed her free hand upon his shoulder. Their eyes never left each other, even though Austin could feel several people watching them from the sidelines, her friends included. In fact, Lady Georgina Meyrick looked quite astonished at her friend’s swirling past on the dancefloor, almost as though she had never seen Miss Beauclerk dance before.

Austin couldn’t believe that at all, for Miss Beauclerk was a fine dancer. He couldn’t remember the last time that he had so easily led a woman around the floor. And he could not stop himself from commenting, “You are a fine dancer, Miss Beauclerk. Have you taken lessons?” 

“Have not all ladies of the ton taken dance lessons at some point or other, my lord?” she responded confidently, though with a slight flush to her cheeks that made her appear entirely innocent. “One could ask the same of yourself.” 

“Me? Oh, it comes naturally,” Austin replied cheekily with a simple shrug of his shoulders, never taking his eyes off hers. 

“Then you are a lucky man indeed, my lord,” Miss Beauclerk announced, “My poor friends have been getting their toes stepped on all evening by far less gifted gentlemen.” 

“And you have not?” Austin asked inquisitively. Perhaps he might be able to learn why her dance card sorely lacked entries. Was there something about this beauty that he had yet to learn, some scandal that had not yet met his ears? Looking at her, he couldn’t imagine that she would ever be involved in any such thing. 

In fact, he almost felt sorry for having asked her to dance, his friend’s warning still very much echoing in his mind. But it was too late to turn back now, and he was enjoying her company far too much to leave the dancefloor abruptly. How could he possibly put her through that? Especially when everyone in the room was watching the dancers, and she would likely be talked about for weeks if a Marquess left her in the middle of a dance.

“I prefer only to dance with those who interest me,” Miss Beauclerk explained, and the moment that she had said the words, her brilliant blue eyes grew round. From the look that crossed her face, she hadn’t meant to say such words aloud. 

Austin had to bite his lip, smiling gently, as her expression amused him greatly. It was a look he had seen on many a woman’s face before – women seemed quite unable to stop themselves from telling the truth around him – and yet, on her face, it was even more endearing than ever before. 

“I find I have very similar views on the matter, Miss Beauclerk.” 

Though she continued to blush, the woman did relax slightly in his arms, “I am afraid, my lord, that I am not all that interesting.” 

Austin raised an eyebrow. Never had he known any woman in the ton to talk herself down in such a way. He was so used to ladies and the daughters of aristocrats trying to talk themselves up that he often felt as though his ears were going to fall off. 

“I am most certain that is not true,” Austin protested, pulling her just a little closer than was appropriate. The feel of her in his arms was enough to make him forget that there was even anyone else in the room. 

Miss Beauclerk smiled back at him as if she were nervous or maybe even speechless, and they continued to dance, gliding past the other dancers, who all seemed far less comfortable with their partners. 

All too soon, the dance was over, and as it drew to a halt, Austin instinctively bowed to Miss Beauclerk, reluctantly releasing her from the hand he’d had on her waist. He held her hand in his still and started to guide her back towards her friends. 

Lady Meyrick and another young woman with strawberry hair who had not yet been introduced to looked at Miss Beauclerk as though they were ready to ply her with questions as soon as he was gone. No doubt they had noticed the way that the couple smiled at each other and the way that they had talked during their dance like no other couple on the dancefloor. 

They had just made it to the edge of the room, Miss Beauclerk’s friends looking like they were about to burst with anticipation when Austin noticed a familiar face out of the corner of his eye. Looking up, he met Christopher’s gaze and found the gentleman glaring back at him with a stern expression. If anyone else had looked at him in such a way, Austin might have reacted badly, but as it was Christopher, and as he knew exactly why he was looking at him in such a manner, all he could do was smile. 

Turning to Miss Beauclerk and her friends, he bowed once more and said, “Thank you for the dance, Miss Beauclerk, and thank you, ladies, for allowing me the pleasure of a dance with your friend.” 

With that, he dipped his head and added, “Good evening to you all.” 

“I…thank you, my lord,” Miss Beauclerk began, looking as though she intended to say more. Austin did not allow her the chance, already sensing that Christopher was well on his way across the dancefloor towards them. 

“Please, excuse me,” Austin said quickly, and with that, he left the three women, already knowing exactly what was about to occur the moment that he was gone. Poor Miss Beauclerk would likely be interrogated to within an inch of her life. 

Austin had taken only a few steps, making it just out of earshot before Christopher met him at the edge of the room. “I thought I warned you not to dance with the lady?” 

Austin paused and glanced back over his shoulder, wishing to commit the woman’s face to memory one final time. He had spent long enough in the presence of the ton for one evening though he did not like the thought of leaving such a rare gem among them. 

“Christopher,” Austin smirked, clapping his closest friend on the shoulder and turning him around to guide him back towards the main doors of the ballroom. “Has anyone ever told you that if you tell someone not to do something, they are almost always twice as likely to do exactly that?” 

Christopher did not respond verbally but instead glowered at Austin out of the corner of his eye. The marquess knew without a doubt that he had irritated his friend, and so his mission was accomplished. At least, he told himself that was all his dance with Miss Beauclerk had been. After all, he had never allowed himself to gain any interest in any other female member of the ton before. She couldn’t possibly be different enough for him to break his own rules, not truly. 

“Did Edward get home well enough?” Austin asked, attempting to change the subject. From the looks on his friend’s face, he wasn’t entirely certain that it was going to work. 

He was relieved when Christopher sighed and nodded, looking more than a little annoyed that he had allowed himself to be swayed from the matter at hand quite so easily. “Yes, the coachman said so, at least. He is awaiting us outside if you still wish to attend the tavern.” 

Austin responded with a curt nod and a small grunt of approval, though suddenly, he was feeling far less inclined to head to his usual haunt and even less inclined to partake in the company of Miss Rose Flemmings, the young woman who had taken his interest of late. 

“I am certain Miss Flemmings will be eagerly awaiting you,” Christopher commented, smirking almost as though he had read his friend’s mind. Though Austin forced a smile, pretending that the idea of such things still greatly pleased him, he couldn’t help but feel an odd sensation in his gut that told him something was wrong. 

He had never thought twice before about meeting one of his conquests, especially when he had been having such fun as he had been having with Miss Flemmings, and yet tonight, his heart sank into his gut at the thought of entering that tavern room and sharing in the delights of the flesh. 

Get a grip on yourself, he thought, giving himself a mental shake. All would be well as soon as he saw her face, as soon as his manhood began to stiffen like a metal pole at seeing her ample bosom and her curvaceous figure. 

All he had to do now was remove all thoughts of Miss Marianne Beauclerk from his mind. And yet, even after he had pulled on his coat and made his way to the carriage that would take them back into town, he still found himself thinking of her. 

Whenever he blinked his eyes closed for more than a second, he was able to see her beautiful pale face, the slight smattering of freckles upon her cheeks that were barely hidden by powder and rouge, her strikingly blue eyes that seemed to bore into his soul as though she could see right through him. And his heart raced at the thought of her, not just because she was perhaps one of the most attractive women he had ever met, but because even her behaviour had been attractive to him. 

She had been everything that was expected of a lady of the ton, and yet, she had been so much more, as though somehow she was a gentlewoman and a commoner all wrapped into one, the best of both words that left his mind and body utterly transfixed. 

I was just trying to annoy Christopher, he reminded himself firmly, pinching his leg through his pocket so that his friend would not be able to see him. The last thing that he needed was for his friend to realise that it had been entirely more than that. If he were to so much as utter her name, he feared he might be lost to her forever. Better to forget her now.

---

“Tempted by a Wicked Marquess” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

Marianne Beauclerk has always been a dutiful daughter, but beneath her prim and proper exterior lies a wild spirit yearning to be set free. Desperate to avoid the fate her mother has chosen for her, she longs for an adventure that will stimulate her mind and hidden desires. When she encounters Austin Prescott, the most tempting Marquess, sparks immediately fly and sizzling passion flares between them.

Can she keep from surrendering her heart to this wicked charmer?

Lord Austin Prescott has long ago decided to just accept the reputation the ton had awarded him, embracing it entirely by vowing to himself to stay away from scandal at any cost. Yet, when he meets the seductive Marianne, his carefully constructed walls begin to crumble. Now, he must fight to prove that his lust for her is real, but both his reputation and his past work against him.

Such a scandalous rake is more than a lady can take…

Marianne and Austin find themselves thrown into the most sinful adventure of all. With the prospect of a loveless marriage looming over Marianne, they must battle against their own fears and doubts in order to be together. Will they be able to break free of their fates and find their way not only out of the shadow of a scandal, but to love? Or will their burning romance be doomed once and for all?

“Tempted by a Wicked Marquess” is a historical romance novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

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