How I Married a Marquess Page 5

  As she disappeared from sight, an unexpected stab of loss tore into his chest. Needing air, he stepped outside onto the terrace, where he took deep breaths to steady himself. Only a few minutes later he watched her leave as the coach disappeared down the moonlit drive, carrying the enigmatic woman away, along with the last peace he would feel tonight.

  He ran a hand through his hair in aggravation, his fingers already shaking at the thought of the night ahead. One he knew would be spent sleepless and moving restlessly in his room, when pacing for hours was the only way to burn off the anxiety that descended upon him when the night was quiet and he had nothing to do but think. And remember.

  Blowing out a breath, he leaned on his palms against the stone balustrade. Who was this woman, that she of all people had such a calming effect on him when no one else had been able to help him? For the first time since the shooting, he had been completely at ease with someone other than Emily, Edward, and Grey.

  She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he knew, nor the most sophisticated. Yet with nothing more than a dribble of punch and a waltz, Josephine Carlisle had distracted him more deeply than Helene or his other lovers had done with their naked bodies, more than Emily had done with all her pots of tea. The pleasant distraction of her smiles and her teasing wit had him thinking of her and not of everything he’d lost when that footpad shot him. Or how desperate he was to have that life back, no matter what he had to do to get it.

  Including hunting down a highwayman.

  But his investigation for Royston certainly wasn’t proceeding as planned. He’d been at Blackwood Hall for over eight hours now, and instead of actively pursuing leads, he’d been wasting time trying to impress a woman like some starry-eyed green pup, only to end up driving her away. That was different, because he couldn’t remember the last time a woman had fled from him before. If ever. And that was oddly bothersome, because he found himself wanting to see her again. Because tonight, for a precious few minutes, there had been only her. And peace.

  And that was the oddest thing of all. That a sharp-tongued, too-bright-for-her-own-good gel from Lincolnshire had aroused him until even now he grew half-hard just thinking about her. But the release he wanted to find in her was far from only physical.

  Why her, for Christ’s sake?

  He had no idea. But he was determined to find out.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Thomas turned his horse down the treelined lane leading to the Carlisle home at Chestnut Hill and cantered slowly beneath the overarching branches. Once more he repeated to himself the apology he’d been practicing all morning—all night, in fact—for whatever offenses he’d mistakenly leveled at Josephine Carlisle during last night’s waltz. He’d come to apologize, but his visit wasn’t entirely selfless. He also wanted to see her again and discover why she intrigued him so damned much.

  He hadn’t slept last night. Not even the welcome distraction that she’d provided at the dance had been enough to keep the memory of being shot from replaying through his mind once he’d reached his room, making his heart race and anxiety course through him. So after hours of restless pacing, he’d saddled his horse and galloped off at dawn from Blackwood Hall, with the excuse of wanting to explore the spots where the robberies had taken place, when in reality he simply needed to get away from the smothering darkness of his room and the memory of being helplessly lashed to his sickbed.

  Once the morning reached a decent hour and the village awakened, he’d checked with the constable and learned that despite nearly two dozen robberies during the past two years, no one had been hurt except for rope burns where the bound drivers had struggled to free themselves. The robbers knew the countryside well enough to stop a carriage without being seen, then disappear without a trace. Which meant they were likely local men and still in the area. Which meant he had a chance of—

  Gunshots split the quiet morning.

  Christ! He flinched, his hand reflexively darting toward his side. His heart leapt into his throat and began pounding brutally like a hammer against his ribs as the familiar metallic taste of anxiety and fear formed instantly in his mouth. His hands gripped the reins tight, but even that firm grip didn’t stop the uncontrollable shaking that spread up his arms.

  His horse skittered beneath him, sensing his sudden unease, and pranced nervously as they approached the stables.

  “Calm down,” Thomas murmured to the horse, reaching to brush a trembling hand against the animal’s neck. “It’s all right, just calm down now…” Although he could have been talking to himself.

  A young groom trotted forward from the stables, and he seemed about as bothered by the ruckus as if gunshots at Chestnut Hill were nothing more unusual than the ringing of church bells. Taking comfort in that, Thomas sucked in a deep breath, straightened in the saddle, and successfully ignored the itching burning at his wrists. For now, anyway.

  Pulling at the brim of his cap in welcome, the groom reached to hold the horse. “Welcome to Chestnut Hill, sir.”

  He mumbled his thanks and rolled his shoulders as he dismounted, trying to push the tension from the taut muscles in his back.

  The groom nodded toward the rear of the house. “The shooting match is in the gardens, sir.”

  Well, that explained the gunfire. As the pounding of his pulse gradually slowed and his breathing grew normal, curiosity sparked inside him. True, he was here to call on Josephine, but a shooting match in a country manor house’s formal gardens was simply too unusual to pass up, although judging from the groom’s calm demeanor gunshots were a common occurrence here. Something Thomas could readily believe, given what he’d seen of the Carlisle brothers so far.

  Besides, he wanted time to collect himself before he approached Josephine. The last thing he needed was for her to see him shaking like a green recruit in his first skirmish.

  He tugged off his riding gloves as he strolled toward the rear of the pretty redbrick house, following the sound of random gunfire. When he rounded the corner of the house, he hesitated in his stride. A shooting match stretched before him, all right, but with what seemed to be all the men from Royston’s party gathered around, waiting their turns. Targets backed by bales of straw sat on a gentle rise of the sweeping lawn about twenty yards away, with a row of pistols lined up on a table on the opposite end. Supervising the competition, the three Carlisle brothers shouted orders and laughed loudly when their conflicting commands only caused confusion.

  “Chesney!” Robert motioned him over to the weapons table. “Thought we’d ease the boredom of Royston’s party and hold ourselves a shooting match.”

  “So I see.” Grimly, he also realized that Josephine had identified him to her brothers, right down to his title, but since they hadn’t yet turned any of the pistols on him, she’d obviously not shared her version of last night’s encounter. That much was a good sign, at least. The woman knew how to keep her silence.

  “Glad you arrived,” Sebastian interjected. “We rode over this morning to Blackwood after breakfast to invite everyone but didn’t see you there.” He loaded one of the pistols and handed it over to Lord Gantry, who moved away to line himself up at the target. “Greaves said you’d already gone out.”

  Thomas watched disinterestedly as Gantry aimed, squeezed the trigger, and missed widely, nearly taking off the ear of an inattentive footman marking the hits. “I was up early and took a ride. Thought I’d see the village.” Technically that was a lie. He’d gone for a ride, but he hadn’t been up early because he’d never been asleep.

  Quinton laughed loudly and slapped him on the back. “And then what did you do after the minute it took you to ride from one end of the village to the other?”

  “There’s not a lot of village to the village,” Robert explained.

  “So I discovered,” Thomas mumbled as another gunshot echoed across the garden. Then, as casually as if commenting about the weather, he added, “I did run into the local constable, though. Said there’d been some trouble around here recently w
ith a highwayman.”

  Sebastian snorted. “A rotten highwayman by all accounts who—”

  “Strikes only a few times a year,” Robert interrupted.

  “Never fires his gun,” Quinton put in.

  “And steals barely any loot to speak of,” Sebastian added without so much as a pause, as if the three brothers regularly finished each other’s sentences.

  “But the clodpole doesn’t even attempt to kiss the ladies—” Robert continued.

  “Or stick his hands up their skirts,” Quinton finished.

  Sebastian smacked his palm lightly against the back of his youngest brother’s head. “Mind your manners.”

  Duly chastised and rubbing his scalp, Quinton slumped away to join the rest of the men gathered on the makeshift firing range.

  “I suppose, though,” Robert continued, “we should be grateful to have even that nick-ninny of a highwayman to spice things up around here.”

  “Islingham isn’t the most exciting place to live,” Sebastian clarified.

  Thomas swung his gaze between the two men. “So you’re not worried about the robberies, then?”

  “Islingham’s safe, if that’s what you’re asking,” Sebastian answered.

  “Josie goes for rides and walks at all hours,” Robert added, “and we’ve never had to worry about her.”

  That stopped Thomas cold, seizing his full attention. Although why he should be so concerned about Josephine Carlisle, a woman he’d seen only once and to whom he’d barely spoken—even then, more arguing than actually speaking—he had no idea. Still, inexplicably, Robert’s casual comment made his heart skip with worry. “Not alone, surely.”

  “You try stopping her.” Robert gave a grimace of fraternal aggravation. “At least she doesn’t go out often, and she never strays far. If she didn’t get to wander off by herself every now and then, she’d most likely have run away by now. She’s always gone off alone, ever since—” A sharp look from Sebastian stopped him cold. “She likes to spend time by herself,” he finished instead.

  Thomas’s eyes narrowed. Definitely more going on here than what the two revealed.

  “Mostly she likes to walk in the woods and read books,” Sebastian explained. “Pick flowers, take baskets to the orphans and the poor…that sort of thing.”

  “Says she likes the peace and quiet away from the house. I don’t understand it myself.” A round of gunfire blasted up from the guests, and Robert shrugged. “Always too quiet around here for my tastes.”

  Sebastian nodded. “But that’s Josie for you. Always been one to do as she pleases.”

  As a second round of gunfire blasted behind them, Thomas forced himself not to flinch. He drew a steadying breath. “You don’t worry about her?”

  “She’s capable of taking care of herself. No one bothers her.”

  Not with those brothers skulking about, Thomas decided, all three of them ready to pounce at a moment’s notice if anyone even looked at her askance. If the highwayman was local—and there was no doubt in his mind that he was—then the man most likely knew the green-eyed woman personally, as well as her large and menacing older brothers. Even an opportunistic criminal wouldn’t be so foolish as to threaten Josephine Carlisle. Not unless he had a death wish.

  “Has anyone in your family ever seen the highwayman?” Thomas asked casually.

  In unison the two brothers shook their heads.

  “As I said, nothing exciting ever happens in Islingham,” Sebastian commented.

  “We make our own fun around here.” Robert grinned. “Any good with a gun, Chesney?”

  “Fair.” Thomas shrugged, his attempt at learning more about the robberies over. For now.

  “A pound a round, then, winner takes all.”

  His gaze darted to the men lining up to shoot. “That’s rather steep.”

  Robert’s grin deepened. “That’s what makes our match more interesting than whatever dull drawing room entertainments Royston planned for this morning.”

  Two more men stepped up to the mark, fired their pistols, and lost their money.

  “Speaking of drawing rooms…” Thomas feigned indifference as he selected a pistol from the half dozen laid out across the table and inspected it. “Is your sister accepting visitors this morning? Or is she at Blackwood with the rest of the ladies?”

  “She’s at home.” Suspiciously Sebastian arched a brow. “Is that why you came here, then? To call on Josie?”

  Hiding any traces of his interest in their sister by making a show of checking the gun, he lifted the pistol to his eye and squinted past the hammer and along the barrel. “I wanted to inquire if she was feeling better this morning.”

  “She is.” Sebastian folded his arms across his broad chest in a very good impression of a giant Hessian. However, he was apparently too self-restrained to demand to know if Thomas had been the cause of his sister’s sudden illness. “I don’t know if she’s receiving visitors.”

  In other words, Sebastian didn’t know if she would receive him. Perhaps the Carlisle brothers were more astute than he credited them for. “I’ll take my chances.”

  “Hmm.”

  The half-disapproving, half-curious grunt couldn’t go ignored, despite the potential for bodily harm. Thomas leveled his gaze on Sebastian. “Is there a problem with me speaking to your sister?”

  “Speaking with her, no.” Sebastian paused meaningfully. “I just wonder what else you have in mind in addition to speaking.”

  Well. That was refreshingly direct, something Thomas wasn’t used to amid all the posturing from the blowhards in London. And he certainly didn’t blame the brothers for being protective of her, because he’d been just as protective of Emily.

  Still, the wrong answer here could get him killed. “Only gentlemanly concerns, I assure you.”

  The look Sebastian sent him pinned him for a rake, yet he answered, “Good, because it would be a shame if we had to hurt you, wouldn’t it, Robert?”

  “A damned shame.” His brother nodded solemnly and reached for one of the pistols.

  Thomas blinked. A very damned shame. “You have no worries there.”

  Sebastian gave a curt nod of permission. “Then keep your hands to yourself and don’t make her any promises you aren’t prepared to keep.”

  For a moment the two men held each other’s gaze, man to man, brother to brother, then Thomas assured him solemnly, “You have my word.”

  “When she refuses to see you, come on back here,” Robert interjected with a jaunty grin. “We’ll gladly welcome your company…and your money.”

  In response Thomas stepped up to the line, quickly raised the pistol, and hit the target dead center. Everyone stared in stunned silence.

  Robert’s grin faded. “No need to hurry back.”

  Thomas returned the pistol to the table and collected his winnings, then sauntered toward the house. He was beginning to like the Carlisle men. When they weren’t terrifying the daylights out of him.

  A flash of maroon near the stables caught his attention, just in time for him to see the swooshing full skirt of a riding habit duck inside the stone building.

  A slow grin curled at his lips. Josephine. So she was feeling better this morning, well enough to go for a ride. And if he wasn’t mistaken, he’d just caught her spying on him.

  The day was proving very interesting.

  He changed direction and headed toward the stables.

  * * *

  Josie leaned back against the tack room door and tightly closed her eyes. Blast it! Thomas Matteson was the last person she wanted to see today. The very last person.

  She’d been certain she’d gotten rid of him last night at the dance, along with those blue eyes that noticed far too much. Oh, he’d been just as alluring and intriguing up close as she’d imagined when she first caught him staring at her, and for a few moments, she’d even allowed herself the fantasy that he might find her just as appealing, that she was capable of attracting the attentions of a man li
ke him. Good Lord, he’d waltzed with her! And what an amazing waltz it had been, too.

  But then, all those things he’d learned about her—if she’d continued to talk with him, it would only have been a matter of time until he learned the truth.

  No. However intriguing she found him, Thomas Matteson epitomized trouble for her, and the best way to stay out of trouble was to avoid it. So that was exactly what she’d planned to do. Simply keep away from him. After all, Blackwood Hall was a grand house on a large estate, and she should have easily been able to attend the party yet still keep distance between them without offending Lord and Lady Royston.

  But now, for him to appear at her home, and looking so dashing in his riding clothes, too…surely fate couldn’t be that spiteful.

  Maybe he hadn’t seen her or didn’t want to see her after the way she’d fled from him last night. Maybe he was just there because of her brothers and that silly shooting match. Maybe—

  “Hello, Josephine.”

  Her shoulders sagged. Maybe fate was simply out to get her.

  She opened her eyes at the sound of the velvety voice. The same one that had found its way unbidden into her sleep last night and given her such dreams—oh my. Her cheeks heated. “Lord Chesney.”

  “Thomas,” he corrected smoothly.

  “Lord Chesney,” she emphasized with a tight smile, to push down the yearning inside her to answer the siren call of those eyes. How wonderful it would be to be able to call him by his given name…and with that, she knew, send herself straight into a pit of troubles. No, best to keep her distance, no matter how disappointing that was. “My brothers are in the garden.”

  With a glance over his shoulder to make certain they were alone in the stables and the grooms were occupied elsewhere, he placed his hand against the doorway at her shoulder and leaned toward her, trapping her between the door and his body. “I just came from the shooting match, actually.”

  He stood so close now that she could smell the masculine scent of him, that wonderful combination of leather and soap, and despite herself she deeply breathed him in. “Good,” she sighed.