Unmasking a Wicked Marquess (Preview)

Royal Ascot, England, 1798

“Robert? Philip? Are you two not watching? The race is about to begin.”

Robert pulled his attention away from where he was toasting with his friend, Philip Welton, the Duke of Lantham. They had been laughing for so long that Robert couldn’t even remember how their discussion had begun, yet Philip was wiping tears away from his eyes as Robert tried to stop himself from choking on his wine.

“You know the pair of them, dear,” Philip’s wife, Amelia, was saying with a laugh of her own. “Leave them to it. They’ll watch the race when they’re good and ready.”

“I think our wives despair of us,” Robert said with a hearty chuckle, taking his friend’s shoulder and steering him away from the carafes of wine towards the box that overlooked the racing field.

“You don’t say?” Philip laughed, shaking his head. “Amelia predicted it well enough. Whenever we’re together, we’re incorrigible.”

“Soon enough, we won’t be able to get you apart,” Cecily, Robert’s wife, appeared at his side. He smiled when he looked at her eyes – violet in colour. They were striking and so unique that he had never seen another woman with those eyes before. It was one of the things he had first noticed about her, and since the day they had met, he had found himself growing more and more in love with her.

Just a year ago, she had given birth to their first child, Juliet, and Robert was delighted that his good friend, Philip, had agreed to be godfather.

“With your sister, Rob, and your brother, Philip, getting married, you’ll be in each other’s company constantly!” Cecily said with a laugh. “On second thoughts, Amelia, I will take that drink.”

Amelia laughed and filled up the glass as they moved to the window of the box, laughing together.

“They’re right, you know,” Philip said, elbowing Robert. “We’ll be family soon.”

“Hmm. If you look at the pair of them, you’d think they were impatient for the wedding.” Robert pointed over his shoulder into the far corner of the box, gesturing past others who were guests of the king in the royal corner of the racecourse. Through heads dressed in fine hats and bodies clothed in smart suits, in the corner of the room, they could see Emily and Hugh together.

They sat calmly, talking to one another, perhaps even having forgotten that they were on a race day. Emily’s light-brown hair, which was much like Robert’s own, was tucked up at the back of her head, curling softly. Her hand held Hugh’s tightly, and the poor man seemed incapable of looking at anyone but Emily.

“Impatient? What gave you that idea?” Philip said with a wry tone as Hugh lifted Emily’s hand to his lips and kissed the back.

“I wonder.” Robert shook his head and turned back to face the window. “Cecily is right. The race is starting.” He gestured forward beyond the open window down at the course.

The great lawn stretched out in front of them, dry and arid in the heat of the hot summer they had been enduring. Many of the gentlemen gathered in the sun by the fences had shed their jackets in that heat, and the ladies had brought fans with them to flutter in front of their faces. Above the many heads, with cheeks flushed red in the heat, people waved betting cards, either eager to make their bets or wanting to claim their winnings.

At one side of the course, the horses were lined up, ready to start.

“Yours looks to be in fine condition,” Philip said with a begrudging pat on Robert’s shoulder. “No hard feelings if you win, eh?”

“Same for you.” Robert nodded at the horses. “Neither of us cares about that commission to breed horses for the king, do we?”

“Not at all. Thought it might be useful,” Philip confessed with a small smile and a wink, the movement of his head making his dark hair dance about his forehead. “Such a charter could be profitable indeed. So whichever of us wins it, or if indeed another wins it, let us toast their success. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Robert was all too happy to make this arrangement. He could not deny the royal charter would be useful for his family as well. It would be a good advancement, and when his daughter was grown, maybe he could even introduce her at the royal court if he could only move in the royal circles first.

“They’re starting,” Cecily said with excitement, clutching Robert’s arm. It was always the same; with any race they watched, she held onto him tightly. He looked at her, feeling the warmth and love he had for her growing. “Oh, I do hope the animals will be well. It pains me when they are hurt.”

“The horses are well trained, and the jockeys, too. They’ll be quiet safe,” Robert assured her, threading an arm around her waist as the horses trotted into the starting blocks.

A general hush fell over the whole racecourse as a man stood at the side of the track, holding a pistol into the air.

Robert could hear his heartbeat in his ears as he stared at his horse. In stall number three, his horse, Midnight Dancer, was raring to go. With a deep black coat, a long nose, and thick, strong legs, he was noticeable from a great distance away. Over the last two years, Robert’s horses had been winning many races, and no other horse had won more than his prize stallion, Midnight Dancer.

Come on. You can do it. Win me that commission.

Then the pistol fired, and the horses bolted out of the stalls.

“Look, look at them go,” Amelia called excitedly. Her hair, as dark as her husband’s, was braided at the back of her head and now swung around as she jumped about with her excitement. “Oh, our two horses are ahead!”

Robert held his breath as Cecily beside him sent prayers to God to keep the two horses safe. It was true that Midnight Dancer and Philip’s horse, Shadow, were neck and neck, striding out far ahead of the others.

“I don’t think I can watch this.” Philip turned away from the window.

“Are you mad?” Amelia cried and turned to her husband, taking his shoulders and forcing him back around to watch the race again. “This has been the culmination of months of work.”

“Try years,” Robert muttered.

“Exactly.” Philip agreed with him. “It’s so close, I cannot watch.”

Suddenly, Midnight Dancer started to edge in front. It was by the smallest amount, his nose just stretching in front of the others. The jockey rode him harder, raising himself with his knees, taking the brunt of the force of riding so fast. The stallion responded and started to reach out in front of Shadow.

“Ah, it’s over.” Philip suddenly laughed. “Give my friend his money and his commission. He deserves it.”

“The race isn’t over yet,” Cecily reminded him.

Just as she said the words, they seemed to be an omen. The jockey shifted in the saddle as if he had nearly been thrown off, and then Midnight Dancer bucked.

“Woah, what was that?” Robert muttered, starting to breathe again in short, shallow breaths.

Abruptly, the horse pulled up. Shadow struck out in front, riding ahead, and Midnight Dancer bucked and danced about the course so much that those watching at the sides of the fences scurried back, taking refuge behind the betting stalls.

“He’s never done this before,” Cecily murmured. “What is wrong with him? He looks almost … possessed.”

Robert was not a superstitious fellow, but on this occasion, he was tempted to agree with his wife.

“What …” He didn’t finish the question. The horse rose back on its hind hooves and tipped the jockey clean out of his saddle. “Thompson!” Robert cried in a sudden panic about the jockey’s safety.

Thompson was wise enough to roll away under the cover of the banner as Midnight Dancer struck out wildly in the air with his front hooves. The other horses flew past him, galloping away after Shadow, and then the horse dropped down its hooves and did a slow lope back in the wrong direction towards the stalls. He loped away, almost as if he was injured.

“Oh.” A breath escaped Cecily. 

He knew what she was suffering. It was speechlessness, for he suffered the same thing.

As a roar went up from the crowd, Robert turned to see Philip and Amelia at his side. Neither one of them was celebrating, but both were looking at Robert and Cecily.

“I’m so sorry,” Philip said, frowning. “I do not understand. He looked great around the parade ring just now.”

“Do not worry about it, my friend.” Robert cleared his throat and pushed away any grumblings he had about what had just taken place. “You won the race, fair and square, and remember what we agreed.” He offered his hand to Philip. “I shall be delighted for you. You will have the royal commission, and it will be going to no better man.”

“Thank you, Robert. That is very gracious of you indeed,” Philip said as he shook his hand.

Robert continued to smile, quite determined to be happy for his friend, even if the strange behaviour of his horse still niggled at the back of his mind.

The moment they were done with the congratulations and Philip had to go and collect the prize for his horse, Robert left the box, with Cecily hurrying behind him.

“Where are you going?” she cried, struggling to keep up with her hands reaching for the back of his waistcoat. 

He ran to the stables as quickly as he could, where he found poor Thompson sitting against the wall of the stable yard. He looked winded and repeatedly rubbed his back as he kicked off his riding boots.

“Are you all right? Shall I send for a physician?” Robert asked, hurrying to his jockey’s side.

“It is not me you should be concerned for, My Lord,” Thompson said with a heavy sigh. “I am quite well, but that …” He jerked a thumb, pointing back into the stable. “I have never seen anything like it in all these years. Lady Clarence,” he addressed Cecily directly. “I know your love for animals. I plead with you not to go in there now. It will only upset you.”

Yet Robert knew his wife. Her love for animals was only outweighed by a wish to do what was right. She ran into the stable even before Robert could, and the gasp that escaped her made his heart tremble in his chest.

As he rounded the corner to his horse’s stalls, he saw Midnight Dancer on the floor, struggling on his side. He’d been tied with his reins to a post, for a horse attendant was trying to still him to examine what appeared to be bloodied spots across his back.

“Wh-what is this?” Robert managed to stammer, his hands starting to shake with anger when he saw the pain his poor horse was in. 

The stable hand looked up, a grimace on his face as he wiped the sweat from his cheeks.

“It is sabotage, My Lord,” he said simply. “Someone fastened these pins to the seat of the saddle.” He took the saddle from its discarded position at the side of the stable and turned it up. “He bore the pain for so long, but when the jockey drove him harder, it was too much. Someone wanted to make sure Midnight Dancer could not win that race.” 

***

“Lord Clarence? May I speak with you?”

Robert struggled to clear his mind. It was the morning after the foul race, and he was standing outside of Philip’s stable, waiting for Philip to arrive so they could go riding together. Robert and his family were staying with Philip for a few nights, and they had spent last night’s dinner going over everything that had happened to Midnight Dancer.

Philip had been horrified and urged Robert to engage a local constable to look into who might have committed the sabotage.

“My Lord?” the voice called to him again.

“My apologies, my mind was elsewhere.” Robert looked away from the cloudy sky that spelled imminent rain and turned to face Philip’s stable hand, Wally. The young man was someone Robert had seen in passing a few times. A rather eager lad, he was struggling to stand still now as he approached Robert rather nervously with his cap in his hand. “What is it?” Robert asked him.

“I heard of what happened to your horse. I’m so sorry, My Lord, but I fear I have more bad news.” He looked at the ground between them as if saying it was hard enough, but he could not look at Robert at the same time. “I have to tell you something. I have to tell you that I saw a man going to your horse’s stalls and where the equipment was kept. I know the man, and I know the Duke of Lantham pays him to do things. I fear he paid the man to sabotage your horse, so his would win. So … so he could get the commission from the king.”

“You are mistaken,” Robert responded on gut instinct and shook his head.

Philip? No. Philip would never do this to me. He is a true friend. 

“I am no liar, My Lord.” Wally looked up. The sudden power of those eyes boring into Robert’s made him pause. “I saw him, as did others that I can bring to you to prove it to you.”

He believes it to be true and others saw it too.

“I know he feared your horse would win again. I overheard him talking to the duchess about such a thing, too.” Wally stepped back. “I’m so sorry, My Lord. I thought it was right you knew.” With these words, he hurried away.

No, no. It’s not possible.

Robert stood for some time until the rain began, thinking about what he had heard. He didn’t want to believe it and refused flatly, yet his mind kept working over it. He thought of the delight on Philip’s face when he came back to Robert, talking of how he had spoken with the king about the royal commission.

Robert walked away from the stables. He went to the house and strode inside, where he found Philip in the entrance hall, struggling to pull on his riding boots. Far behind him on the stairs was Amelia with her son beside her, holding his hand tightly. Edward was the picture of his father, dark-haired and blue-eyed. He watched his father, laughing at his ridiculous attempt to get the boots on. Behind Amelia was Cecily, with their baby daughter in her arms. Juliet was just old enough to wave manically at Robert. Another time, he would have waved back at his daughter, but he couldn’t.

“Ah, Robert. I’m so sorry I’m running late. I can’t get these damn things on,” Philip called, sinking onto the bottom step and pulling the boot up to his knee.

“Don’t worry, it’s raining.” Robert’s cold tone alerted Philip to the fact something was wrong without him having to say any more.

“What is it?” Philip asked, looking up from his boots. “Robert, what is wrong?”

“I just heard something. Something I do not want to believe.” He shook his head, his words creating an atmosphere around the room. They all waited with bated breath, hanging onto his words. “Someone on this estate believes you, yes you, Philip, paid another to bind that saddle to his back with pins.”

“Robert!” Cecily was outraged and covered their daughter’s ears, even though she couldn’t understand at her tender age.

“I am just repeating what has been said.” Robert stepped forward, needing to look his friend in the eye, needing to read the truth.

Philip said nothing for a minute. A strange, eerie silence fell in the room, and then he stood slowly. Taller than Robert, suddenly, Robert felt very small indeed. He could understand why Philip was so terrifying in business meetings when the business partner had the misfortune to get on the wrong side of them. That expression was quite harrowing.

“You would dare to accuse me?”

“I am not accusing. I am repeating. Tell me it is not true, Philip.”

“I should not have to tell you it isn’t true. You are my friend, Robert. Do you honestly think I would do this to you?”

“I do not know what to think.” Robert felt sick. Why wouldn’t Philip just deny it? Why wouldn’t he just say, of course he had not done it? The evasive answer made Robert begin to doubt his own knowledge.

Do I know my friend at all?

“You should know what to think!” Philip seethed and stepped towards him.

“Robert, please,” Cecily called from her position part way up the stairs. “These are our friends. We are staying in their house.”

“And my horse was sabotaged when we were racing for a royal commission,” Robert insisted, meeting his wife’s panicked gaze.

“If this is jealousy at play, I will understand it and forgive it,” Philip said, his tone so calm that it infuriated Robert even more. “But take back that accusation this moment.”

He still hasn’t said he did not do it.

Robert glared at his friend and blinked. It was as if he saw Philip in a new light, that hard frown unshakeable.

“Cecily, we’re leaving.”

“What?” she spluttered, stepping around Amelia and Edward and coming down the stairs. “Robert, pray, think about this.”

“No, no, by all means, go.” Philip waved a hand at the door. “I will not have someone in my house accusing me of doing something … so foul. Get out, Robert.”

“Philip?” Amelia was the next one to cry out. “Calm yourself.”

“I will not be calmed. Did you hear what he said?”

Robert strode to the door and practically jumped off the steps in his eagerness to get out of that house.

“Robert? What are you thinking?” Cecily cried, running after him with Juliet in her arms who was now crying in alarm at the loud noises. Robert took his daughter in his arms, soothing her with soft tones.

“I don’t know what to think,” Robert muttered. “But if I find nothing to dispute what I have just heard, then I have no choice but to believe it, do I? It’s possible, Cecily, that Philip was never my friend at all.”

Chapter One

Nineteen Years Later, 1817

“Careful with those horses. I cannot tell you of what value they are,” Edward called to the stable hands as he jumped down from his own horse. He landed with ease on the cobbled ground of the stable yard and shrugged off his tailcoat, heated on the bright sunny day.

The stable hands looked abruptly more nervous about their charges, eying the Marwari horses with wariness. The animals were rare from his travels to India. Sleek in build, lithe, athletic, and with uniquely pointing inward ears, Edward knew what a fine gift one of these animals would make to the king. The other was for his family to keep.

“Here, they are soft-natured if you know how to treat them right.” Edward strode towards the nearest horse and stroked him down the nose, humming softly in his ear. At once, the horse that had appeared to have a wild temper before softened and nuzzled his hand. “Good boy,” he whispered for only the horse to hear.

“We’ll look after them, My Lord,” called the familiar voice of the stable manager. A larger and burly bloke, he stepped forward with his wizened face beaming in a smile and bowed to Edward. “It is good to see you have returned from your travels.”

“Thank you, Bernard. It is good to see you too. I shall have to tell you all about what I saw some time.” 

“I look forward to it.” Bernard waved his hat in farewell and went to help with the horses as Edward left the stable yard with a spring in his step.

For too long, he had been gone. First, there was the university in Oxford, then his travels, focusing most particularly on India and the continent. Now he was back and had sent his luggage ahead, he was impatient to see his family again. 

He strode up the front porch steps towards the wide, red-bricked building, but before he could take hold of the door handle, the door itself was flung open inward, and a shock of dark hair flew at Edward.

He yelped and jumped back in surprise, for one minute thinking his father had bought a tall greyhound in his absence. There was raucous laughter from inside the house as Edward caught the unmistakable figure of his sister.

“Jane!” he shouted, catching her safely before they could tumble down the front steps together. “Oomph, you could have killed us then.”

“You’re home, you’re home,” Jane cried repeatedly, jumping up and down as she released him. Just reaching his shoulders, he could see she was much taller than when he had last seen her. Her dark hair was unmistakable, for it was the same black sheen they all possessed, him, his father, and his mother. As he peered past his sister and into the entrance hall, he saw both of his parents looked a little grayer than last time.

“There you are.” Philip opened his arms out wide, and Edward gladly walked towards his father, embracing him tightly. “Beware of your mother,” he whispered in Edward’s ear.

“What?”

“I do not think she intends to release you again.”

Edward discovered how right his father was. Embraced by Amelia, he was quickly told off for not writing more and for sending his luggage ahead as she had been so excited that morning when she had mistaken his luggage for his return. She kept holding onto his waist, clinging to him, as Philip and Jane led their way into the drawing room.

“Come, we’ll start the tea,” Jane said to their father. “They can have some when Ma dares to release him.”

“You should have come home sooner,” Amelia whispered, showing no sign of releasing him.

“Missed you too, Mother.” He held her back and patted her on the shoulder, then urged her to release him a bit so he could look at her face. There were a few more grays in her hair, and her face bore a few more wrinkles than before, but the most noticeable thing was the unshed tears in her eyes that she was holding back. “What is it?”

“Happy tears.” She waved a hand at her face dismissively. “Someday, you will have a child of your own, and you will understand how hard it is not to see one of them for so long.” She embraced him again, and he chuckled, holding her back before they walked together into the drawing room.

“Hurrah!” Philip declared and clapped his hands together. “You have released him. Quick, get a drink, my boy, before she embraces you again.” 

Edward used the back of the settee to shift himself over and sit beside his father. The athletic, if informal, movement made his mother tut as his father chuckled, passing him a teacup.

They started with Edward’s news, and he told them of the new rare horses he had brought back and some of his travels, though he promised more tales in time.

“I’m too tired for more stories.” He slumped into his seat rather dramatically, earning another reproachful tut from Amelia. “Jane, you tell stories for a while so I can take a break and drink my tea.”

“Very well.” She put her teacup in her saucer and sat tall so the fading light of the day through the windows shimmered off her dark hair, and then she abruptly smiled broadly. “I have news for you, brother. News that we did not put in our last letters.”

“Oh? What is that?” Edward took a mouthful of tea.

“I am to be married.”

Edward choked on the tea so aggressively that his father actually slapped him across the back.

“Oomph! Dear God, your strength isn’t failing you, is it?” Edward jested, rubbing his sore back in surprise.

“I’m not that old yet.” Philip elbowed him.

“Why so shocked?” Jane was now on her feet, her hands on her hips. “Am I so disgusting I could not find someone to marry?”

“Forgive me my surprise, sister,” Edward explained, now wiping his mouth with a handkerchief that his mother produced from where it had been neatly tucked under the sleeve of her gown. “When I left, you said you would never marry. You were quite intent on that.”

“Oh, well.” She sat down, now all smiley once again, her spine softening. “That was before I met Fred.”

“Fred? He has a name, then. Anything else I should know about him?”

“Lord Frederik Winter, a baron,” Amelia explained with something of a sigh of wistfulness. “Oh, he’s a handsome fellow indeed. He suits her very well.”

“He’ll pay for her very well, too,” Philip muttered, pulling a laugh from Edward.

“You checked, did you?” Edward asked his father.

“I wasn’t going to let your sister go to any man that didn’t have a good estate.” Philip shook his head as he laid back on the settee, resting as he sipped his tea. “It’s important to me to see you both settled. Speaking of which …” He trailed off and curved a single eyebrow at Edward.

“What? No. No.” Edward shook his head, aware out of the corner of his eye that Jane was struggling to hold back her giggle behind cupped hands. “You’re not helping,” he added in her direction. 

“Cake?” she asked sweetly, offering up the sponge cake from the tea tray that smelled distinctly sugary and full of strawberries.

“You know what’s coming as well as I,” Edward observed.

Amelia suddenly reached forward from her armchair and took hold of Edward’s shoulder.

“Ouch,” Edward winced for the second time in as many minutes. “Since when did your hands get like birds’ claws, Mother?”

“It is time you married,” she said with full heart. “Choose a good woman, someone who will make you happy,” she added with that wistful tone once again.

“Someone with a good dowry,” Philip added matter-of-factly.

“So romantic,” Jane tutted at their father.

“One of us has to be practical.”

“Then let it be me,” Edward piped up. “I do not have to get married yet. There is plenty of time for all of that.”

Edward’s mind was suddenly full of pictures and memories of ladies shifting gowns from their shoulders and of beds with the sheets ruffled and dropped to the floor. On the continent, he had not been as well-behaved as perhaps his parents thought. When attending parties and masked balls in Italy and India, there had been a general air of temptation and scandal. At some of the darker, more mysterious parties, it had not been unusual to see an unwed couple kissing in plain sight in corridors. What Edward had got up to at night to gain his first few experiences of lovemaking was for his mind only to know.

What he did know was that after enjoying himself for the last few years, he was in no hurry to choose just one woman yet. 

“Yet you stand a better chance of having many babies if you get married when you’re young and if you have a young bride too. You’ll have the energy for the necessities then.”

“Mother!” Edward cried in outrage, nearly dropping what was left of his tea in his teacup.

“What?” Amelia looked around in innocence as Philip and Jane started laughing once more.

“This has escalated fast,” Edward observed. “This conversation went from you telling me to produce an heir to having many children. Many?” he repeated in an incredulous tone. 

“It is necessary,” Amelia explained with a shrug, reaching calmly for one of the pieces of cake Jane was now offering up.

“Necessary?” Edward was stuck just repeating other words now, unable to form his own thoughts. 

“Yes, necessary,” Amelia said simply with a nod.

Edward looked at his sister, tongue-tied.

“I blame you for this,” he managed after a minute of silence, pointing at her.

“Me?” She offered the perfect innocent look. 

“If you weren’t getting married, this conversation wouldn’t be happening.”

“The time has come, Edward.” Philip clapped him on the back again, softer this time as he did it only to have his attention. “Now you are back, have seen the world, and are doing so well in your business affairs, not to mention the horses,” he added with a smile, making the wrinkles around his lips deepen, “it is time to turn your attention to the other part of your life. This season, you should look for a wife.”

“God’s wounds.” Edward fell back on the rococo settee. “I should have stayed in India.”

“I am glad you did not.” Amelia looked at him and flicked her fingers. “And sit up. You won’t catch a wife slouching like that.”

“I’m not hoping to catch one.” He slouched down purposefully a little further. “You speak as if you go fishing for a lady. I hardly imagine that is how you two courted.” Edward glanced between his mother and father. The two of them shared a little smile, and when Philip winked at his wife, Edward looked away, groaning loudly as Jane giggled. “Is marriage so quickly really so important? On my travels, events were not so strict and formal. They were more fun, much more relaxed. I confess, I loved it. Very much.”

“Then find someone who doesn’t mind a man slouching on his settee,” Amelia said with her lips curving up into a smile. “Yet you must still find someone.”

“But –” Edward didn’t get a chance to say any more.

“There is a ball in two days’ time,” she continued. “You shall attend, and there you can meet the ladies of the ton. You can see which one takes your fancy.”

“I am not picking a horse, Mother,” Edward said calmly, at which point his father laughed broadly once more. 

“You will be there,” Amelia said simply, holding his gaze. “Besides, it is right we introduce you to society again now that you have returned.”

“You can also meet Fred.” Jane sat forward, offering up the cake once more. Rather eager to say or think of anything else other than a hurried marriage, Edward snatched up the cake and took a rather large bite. Jane giggled as if she could sense his thoughts, but his mother just continued to talk.

“Yes, it will be lovely,” she said, sighing with contentment. “Both of my children married by the end of the summer.”

That fast?

“Summer!?” When Edward choked for the second time, his father was even quicker with the slap to his back. 

***

“What do you think?” Violet gushed and pushed open the double doors.

To Juliet’s mind, it was as if someone had sprinkled the entire mansion in glitter or some magical dust. With the strong sunlight of the morning gleaming through the windows, every surface shone and glowed. Juliet turned her head back and forth, looking around the entrance hall in pure bemusement.

Atop a myriad of white alabaster plinths, there were marble busts of great philosophers and thinkers, some even politicians. Behind these plinths were great swathes of red cloth, hiding the entrances to other corridors. The floor was made of a rich pink marble, and the great staircase that stood at the far end of the room, four times as wide as most staircases, was lined with a red carpet, the balustrade gilded in gold.

“Only you, Violet,” Juliet said, releasing a breath with a giggle.

“Only me, what?” Her sister turned with an apparent look of innocence, though her hands reached for her hips warily.

“Only you would end up with a house so elaborate as this. You have always been fond of anything ornamental, have you not?” Juliet said with humour and took her sister’s hands from her hips, using them to turn Violet around in a happy circle. “Look at you now.” She nodded at the vast ivory gown Violet wore and the many jewels that glittered at her throat and hung like teardrops from her ears. “I do not think I have ever seen you so happy. Married life plainly suits you.”

“Oh, it does.” Violet finished her spin on her own and giggled behind a cupped hand. “My husband is very sweet indeed, and he is always buying me things. Though between you and me,” she caught Juliet’s hand and pulled her so close that they bumped shoulders, clearly in the effort not to be overheard by any staff that might be passing, “he gives me other things, too. Things that make me blush and oh …” She released a pleasant shudder.

“Good God, Vi,” Juliet murmured in amazement. “You would think the marriage bed a wondrous thing.”

“Wait until you see what it is like.” Violet winked. “Believe me, it is.”

Juliet bit her lip. Never had she been curious about what sharing her bed with a man would be like until this moment. Seeing Violet practically shuddering with excitement and a blush creeping up her cheeks so that she was the colour of a beetroot betrayed much. 

“We must simply get you married next.” Violet took her hand and pulled her through the house towards the staircase.

“Me? I am not in a hurry to be married. Believe me, if it is going to make me blush like that and offer wistful sighs to everyone who passes me by, I’m quite happy without it.”

“That is not what I am like!” Violet protested halfway up the stairs.

“You are,” Juliet murmured. “I’m quite content on my own for now.” Yet, there was a part of Juliet that simply did not want to talk about this. She was the elder sister and, technically, should have been the one to marry first, but life hadn’t worked out that way.

Violet had met her husband, Lord Brandon Boulder, a viscount, and she had fallen madly in love. Within a few months, it was obvious the feeling was mutual as the two scarcely spent a minute apart from one another at any event in the ton. Juliet had been dragged to every part of London, to the races, sailing regattas, the theatre, Somerset House, even concerts where she thought the violin music sounded more like cats screeching than any true instrument, for Violet and her suitor hadn’t been to these events for what they were, but to see each other. Juliet had been their chaperone.

“Where are you taking me?” Juliet said, trying to resist her sister, who dragged her up the stairs.

“To talk of the masquerade ball,” Violet declared with eagerness. They reached a bedchamber on the top floor, and Juliet giggled when she saw the sight. Just like any other room in this house, it sparkled and was full of ornaments. The bedframe had been painted a brilliant white, the vanity table glittered with jewels, and there was a rather vast settee where the cushions looked suspiciously mussed. As Violet walked in, she replaced the cushions on the settee, blushing purple once again.

Juliet bit her lip, trying not to laugh when she saw her sister’s actions.

“You really are enjoying your new husband’s company if you cannot even make it to the bed,” Juliet said with a laugh.

“You and that witty tongue of yours.” Violet waved a mad hand in the air. “You know what mother would say of you talking of such things.”

“She thinks them too, even if she does not say them. I know that.” Juliet knew deep down she had got her loose tongue from her mother, for Cecily would frequently smile as she reprimanded Juliet for speaking so openly.

“Now, here is what I wished to show you.” Violet reached for the vanity table and pushed aside the jewels, opening a rich navy velvet box from which she pulled out a glittering ivory mask. “Here. For you to wear at the next ball.”

“For me?” Juliet stepped forward in surprise. “Is this not yours to wear?”

“I do not need it. I shall be wearing something else, and if you intend to wear that beautiful white gown of yours, the one with the sage green hem, then this shall be perfect.” She placed the mask onto Juliet’s face before she could object any further. “There, you shall be the belle of the ball.”

“I have no desire to be the belle of any ball.” Juliet scoffed at the idea. “I simply wish to enjoy myself.” She pulled the mask down from her face.

“Oh.” Violet looked quite upset at the idea. “But how else are you supposed to get married?”

“Vi!” Juliet laughed loudly. “I do not remember saying I intended to get married.”

Yet Violet cocked a single eyebrow. Plainly, she did not believe a word Juliet had said.

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

Juliet has lived a life according to the rules, obeying her mother and father’s expectations, until a meeting with a scandalous stranger at a ball changes her life forever. His illicit kiss sets her on a path of rebellion leaving her yearning for more. Little did she know, he is the wicked Marquess of Ashton, the son of her family’s long-sworn enemy. As fate brings them together once again, among Ascot’s fever, the old rivalry will start burning as hot as her untamed passion for the Marquess.

Can the fiery Juliet back away from the one man who has ever tempted her?

Edward, Marquess of Ashtonfreshly, has just returned from his travels in India. Having secured more horses for the king and his father’s races at Ascot, Edward feels alive with life and adventure. His frequent rule-bending during travels contrasts sharply with the rigid world of the ton, leaving him restless and uneasy. Yet, his encounter with a masked beauty kindles a desire for seduction. When he discovers Juliet’s identity though, his spark only intensifies, defying the bitter history between their families.

Will he succumb to the rules he has always resisted?

As Ascot approaches, Juliet and Edward navigate a world of secret trysts and hidden love. With false accusations, antagonists and schemes behind closed doors, their flaming romance seems unattainable. Faced with accusations and their families’ feud, they strive to defy societal expectations. Will Juliet and Edward defy the odds, or will the conspirators at Ascot succeed in driving them apart?

“Unmasking 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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