In a Perfect Mess With the Marquess Read online

  In a Perfect Mess with the Marquess

  A Historical Regency Romance Novel

  Hazel Linwood

  Contents

  A Lovely Gift From Me to You

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Preview: A Forbidden Waltz with the Dashing Duke

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Also by Hazel Linwood

  About the Author

  A Lovely Gift From Me to You

  I am so grateful that you have joined me on this journey of mine. Having you beside me is a dream come true for me!

  In a way for me to thank you for your support, I am offering you a free book. The Awakening of the Lost Baroness is only available to people who have downloaded one of my books and you can get your free copy by clicking the image below or this link here!

  Thank you for being by my side!

  Hazel Linwood

  About the Book

  His was the love that came without warning…

  There’s something decisively wrong about falling in love with your sister’s betrothed, Lady Martha Meyer discovers. Ashamed and terrified, she is loath to give her family yet another reason to resent her. She resolves to drown the fire inside her once and for all.

  Dutiful Nicholas Garston, the Marquess of Calperton, wants to make his father proud and marry the woman he has chosen for him. However, his life takes an unexpected turn when he meets her tantalizingly rebellious younger sister.

  Lifelong vows are not the only thing breaking. The broken lock of a chest reveals treason of the ungodly kind: a map to a secret that two powerful families have been trying to keep buried. And when Martha finds herself in a dark corner of the woods, Nicholas might never see her walk out again...

  Prologue

  Martha shut her eyes for a moment, feeling oddly weary. She leaned one elbow on the dressing table where two candles stood to light up the looking glass. It was early afternoon, and they were still unlit. She could just make out her sister in the glass, who stood behind her.

  “I suppose we should be ready by now,” Amelia said softly, standing back to look at her reflection, holding a pendant of crystal glass about her neck. Her frown relaxed quickly and her usual loveliness returned. She put the pendant on the table and ruffled her pale hair.

  “Yes,” Martha agreed, feeling sick with anxiety. “We should be ready. He’ll be here soon.”

  She looked at herself in the mirror, feeling desperately unready. She still had wild curls and no amount of brushing, even if Penitence, her maid, did her best, was going to change that.

  Amelia went to the door, a light shawl shrugged about her shoulders. Martha watched her sadly.

  As usual, Amelia looked casually lovely. Her soft hair was arranged in ringlets, her big dark eyes doe-like in her slender, lovely face. Martha loved her sister dearly, and wished sometimes that she could be more like her.

  She is everything a lady should be.

  They were both daughters of the Earl of Weston. But it seemed to her as if only Amelia suited the role.

  “I’ll go down,” Amelia said from the door. “I’ll try to keep Mama busy.” She made a face.

  Martha smiled over her shoulder wanly. At least if Amelia was with their mother, Lady Weston would not be calling for Martha to hurry up. It was Amelia the Duke’s son was meeting

  And Mama can be difficult.

  No, she didn’t envy Amelia anything.

  “Penitence?” Martha called into the wardrobe room, pulling the bell in case her maid had gone downstairs while she and Amelia were talking.

  “Yes, My Lady?” Penitence said, blue eyes shining as she came out of the small room. Her name was absolutely wrong for such a bright, lively individual. There was nothing apologetic about her. Martha smiled to see her.

  “Penitence, do you think you could do something with my hair?” she asked softly.

  “Why, of course, My Lady!” Penitence grinned. “As your lady’s maid, that’s what I am best at.”

  Martha had to smile. Penitence was so much more than a maid—she was a friend. She came from the local village—a tiny, impoverished place. It saddened Martha to go there, but also delighted her and captured her imagination. She had kept Penitence as her maid, no matter how many times her mother had tried to have her sacked for unmannerly conduct, and their friendship had grown as a result. She found it easier to talk to Penitence than to the fine ladies of her mother’s sort.

  And that’s just one of the reasons I hate tea parties.

  She looked at herself in the glass as Penitence got to work. Her unruly strawberry curls never seemed to hold a style and she felt that, in comparison to her sister’s delicate features and her mother’s gaunt elegance, she was clumsy and unlovely.

  I just seem too unlike them.

  She studied her face in the mirror. She had a square-shaped face with a firm jaw, a neat small nose and wide hazel eyes fringed with red-brown lashes. Her nose was dusted with freckles and her smile was big and friendly. She thought she was not ugly, but everything about her face seemed too strong or too slight; never just right. Just like her—she was too opinionated, too forthright, and too bold.

  Which is why this will be yet another ordeal.

  “You look lovely, so off you go,” Penitence declared firmly. She was just a year younger than Martha yet she always seemed motherly somehow.

  Martha nodded and walked to the door. She glanced at her reflection one last time, thinking the white of the gown—just the yellow side of cream—brought out the copper highlights in her hair to good advantage. She knew she wouldn’t enjoy the day in any case, so that was small consolation. If it wasn’t that she was Lady Weston’s daughter, she wouldn’t even be there. It wasn’t about her, this afternoon—it was about Amelia.

  Her sister was going to meet the man their mother had betrothed her to shortly after birth.

  Martha felt a tingle of excitement in her belly, mixed with incredible curiosity. The rest of the local gentry had been invited, but the really important guest was Lord Calperton.

  Martha was excited. Though she was excited, too, Amelia wasn’t looking forward to it, fairly sure that Mama could have picked a fellow with the appeal of a monster and the nature of a dragon, provided that he was a duke, or a duke’s heir. That didn’t stop them speculating eagerly about him.

  All they knew about him was that his name was Nicholas, he was the Marquess of Calperton, he was two years older than Amelia and he was, indeed, the heir to the Duke of Dellminster. Amelia was just as nervous about meeting him as Martha felt. Martha suppressed a queasy feeling as she walked throu
gh the door, imagining him already in the drawing room waiting. The carriage was outside the window, she noticed idly, as she walked to the stairs. He was already here.

  “Mama,” she heard Amelia saying from the hallway. “I can’t just go down there…I don’t know him! What am I supposed to say?” She sounded tense.

  “Nonsense!” her mother said. “I went to such trouble to organize this. The butler will announce him. I’ll make the introductions. What could possibly be so hard about it?”

  “Mother….” Amelia trailed off.

  Martha tiptoed past. She couldn’t help feeling sorry for Amelia. At that moment, she heard a knock at the front door. Haley, the butler, was probably too busy with the heir to the Dukedom to bother about the door, so Martha opened it, and jumped.

  On the doorstep, looking straight into her eyes, his own wide with surprise, was the most handsome man she had ever seen.

  “Good afternoon,” he said. “I am Nicholas, Marquess of Calperton.”

  Chapter 1

  Martha stared at the man. She was shocked.

  It is him!

  She was rooted to the spot with fright, her knees locked, and even if the house had caught fire, she doubted she could have moved. She swallowed and opened her mouth, but she had no idea what to say.

  “Good afternoon?” the man said again, more hesitantly.

  “Greetings,” Martha managed to say, her jaw becoming unstuck suddenly. She stepped back and showed him into the reception hall, feeling as if she were caught in some frightening dream. “Come in.”

  Mother is going to have a fit.

  She watched Lord Calperton walk in. He turned back to her, a soft smile on his face. He wasn’t in the least frightening or dragon-like, which was a pleasant surprise. If anything, he seemed very shy.

  “I beg your pardon, but…you must be one of the daughters of the Earl of Weston?” he inquired

  “Yes. Yes. I am. Martha,” she said, dropping the best courtly curtsey she could summon up. “My sister is Amelia. She’s upstairs…” she trailed off. Her legs were rooted in place again with nerves.

  “I see,” Lord Calperton said, giving her a big smile. His eyes were a lovely shade of brown, a few shades paler than his hair, which was dense black. It was nice hair, curling and luxurious, and he had a well-trimmed beard of the same jet-black color. It was his smile, though, that turned her legs wobbly and disobedient—he had white teeth and a brief flash of grin that was at once bold and self-deprecating, as if he was a little shy of everybody.

  He is such a kind person.

  “I can take you upstairs,” Martha suggested.

  “No need,” a voice as cold as icicles said from the top of the stairs.

  Martha turned around. Her mother, Lady Weston, was on the landing. Standing beside her, back straight, face in a forced grin, was Amelia. Martha felt her heart flitter in sheer fright.

  Mama is so angry.

  Even for her Mama, who had a famous temper, this was excessive, and she wondered why.

  “Lord Calperton,” her mother greeted, floating down the stairs and dropping a curtsey to him. “Welcome to our home. I see you met Lady Martha,” she said frostily. Martha stepped back, feeling as if the tone blasted her like fire. “You must meet my other daughter, Lady Amelia.”

  “My Lady, I am honored,” Lord Calperton breathed. He made a courtly bow, first to her mother and then to Amelia, taking Amelia’s hand and lifting it to his lips. Amelia dropped a curtsey, clearly nervous.

  Martha watched her. She didn’t seem the way a girl should who has just been kissed by a man as handsome as Lord Calperton. In fact, she looked nauseous.

  I wonder why she is so distressed about this?

  She tucked the question away in the back of her mind to ask her sister later when they were alone.

  “My Lord, might we show you to the drawing room?” Amelia said, her voice forced to a brassy brightness. “It is in readiness for tea and perhaps a recital after?”

  She sounds like she practiced that all afternoon.

  “Of course,” Lord Calperton agreed, falling into step behind Lady Weston and Amelia. Martha walked behind him, feeling her heart go out to Amelia. Her sister was gripping their mother’s arm and she thought she might actually pass out from the strain. Her back was stiff, her walk unsteady. She seemed so scared, and Martha wondered why.

  I suppose Mama expects so much of her.

  Martha followed them into the drawing room, considering that.

  At least, Martha thought, going to the table and accepting a cup of tea from their mother, she was free of expectation.

  Mama expects nothing of me, and she never has.

  It seemed to her their mother had only enough interest to spare on Amelia. By the time her second daughter had come along—just under two years after Amelia—their mother lost interest and she scarcely paid Martha any attention. She had a peripherally good relationship with their father, but he was so seldom at home—almost always on Court business in the capital city—that his attentions made up for little.

  Martha didn’t mind too much—in some ways she was glad to be ignored, since being in the focus of their mother’s attentions was not very easy.

  Martha watched Amelia as she tried to make light conversation with Lord Calperton. She was always so good in social situations, but this time she seemed forced and uneasy. Martha glanced at their mother, who was watching Amelia as if she was waiting to pounce on any error.

  Martha sipped her tea and positioned herself near to the window, quite glad that she was not the focus of all that pressure.

  I can blend myself with the wallpaper, and just watch.

  “It must have been a long coach ride from the Downs, Lord Calperton?” Amelia asked, her head on one side as she watched him.

  “It was not too bad, no,” Lord Calperton opined. “My lodging here is rather nice. My father and I have taken residence in the house of a friend who’s in London at present. I find the countryside diverting.” He grinned disarmingly.

  He’s truly attractive. A little awkward, but that’s almost more endearing.

  “Oh, Lord Calperton! You needn’t compliment us!” Lady Weston said with a little giggle. “I am sure a lord of your kind must be bored to tears here! It isn’t even a good day for a hunt.” She gestured at the window, where pale sunlight flooded in. It was a cool day, but one could probably ride out, should one wish to do so.

  Martha waited for Lord Calperton’s response. It would tell her a great deal about him. She wasn’t sure what to expect—either he’d laugh and admit he hated the country—in which case, Martha would consider him just too annoying—or he’d refute it, which would make her think there was something more to him than smooth courtly manners.

  To her surprise, he tapped a finger to his lips, thoughtful. Then he shook his head.

  “My Lady, I find the countryside most uplifting. Where else, I ask you, can you be woken by three kinds of birds calling outside the window in the morning? Or take a ride through pristine fields, directly after waking? I declare that it’s a most delightful place. I could almost move here. My uncle is not too far away from the house we rented, and I am quite tempted to do so.”

  Martha felt her lips lift in a grin. She had not been expecting that! She silently applauded him. She must have giggled, because her mother shot her a look that could have withered brass.

  “I see. Well, that is charming.” Lady Weston smiled at him. “I am so glad you like it here. Would you fancy a sandwich? You must be starving.” She gestured at the table, which was laden with different trays of things to eat.

  Lord Calperton smiled. “Thank you. These look very good,” he said, helping himself to one of the delicate sandwiches Mrs. Orston, the cook, had prepared. They were filled with cheese, the crusts trimmed neatly. Martha couldn’t wait to try them. She felt her own mouth water.

  “You like to walk, Lord Calperton?” Amelia asked, gesturing at the wide windows that led onto the terrace.


  “I do,” Lord Calperton said, a sandwich halfway to his mouth.

  “Oh! Good!” Amelia giggled; Martha thought a little nervously. “Maybe we can take a walk, when you have had your repast!” she suggested.