The Training of a Marquess Read online

  She led them through the trees on a regularly maintained path. After a ten-minute walk, they came to a large boulder jutting out into the lake. On the other side of the rock, a sandy shore edged the water.

  “The bottom doesn’t drop off sharply here, so you won’t have to fear the boys stepping into a hole,” she said.

  Harry climbed onto the boulder. “Will you teach us today, Father?

  “Not today. If the weather is clear tomorrow, we will begin your lessons.” It was a beautiful, secluded spot—perfect for teaching the twins to swim.

  “What do we wear when we swim?” Harry asked.

  Chase glanced at Lady Claire and deviltry took control of his tongue. “Your drawers, Harry.” Pink strained her cheeks, but she didn’t look away.

  Claire tried to form a vision of his lordship in his drawers, but having never seen a naked man she had nothing to build from. From the time she had wondered what it would feel like to be kissed by him, she hadn’t been able to get the thought out of her head.

  All she wanted was one kiss so she could stop thinking about it. Then she would be able to stop staring at his mouth and would be able to ignore his dimple. She wanted this unsettled feeling to go away so she would feel normal again.

  Yes, one kiss would do it.

  When he had lifted her from Amira, the heat of his hands on her waist had birthed butterflies in her belly. Thomas had never affected her like this, and she didn’t know if it was normal. Did other women ever feel this way? There were no female friends she could ask, and she wasn’t about to ask Derebourne.

  “A sovereign for your thoughts,” he said with a grin.

  Her eyes focused on his dimple, and she forgot to listen.

  “Lady Claire?”

  “Yes?”

  “I asked what you were thinking.”

  Good heavens. As if she could tell him. She hadn’t thought her cheeks could get hotter, but they did. “I don’t know.”

  His grin widened. “You don’t know what you were thinking? How singular.”

  “Look, Father!” Harry yelled.

  Derebourne’s grin disappeared. “Come back from the edge this instant!”

  Claire’s heart raced at seeing Harry perched precariously on the edge of the boulder. “Oh, my.”

  Harry gave them a cheeky grin. “I wasn’t going to fall.”

  “The boy is going to be the death of me,” Derebourne muttered.

  When Harry reached them, Derebourne placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Harry, you are not to stand on the edge like that until you know how to swim. If you had fallen into the lake, I would have had to get my boots wet to rescue you.” He flicked a finger under Harry’s chin. “And you know what Anders would have to say to that.”

  “Yes, Father, I won’t do it again. But when I learn to swim, can I jump off into the lake?”

  “When I’m satisfied as to your ability to swim and after I show you how to jump so you don’t hurt yourself, then yes, you may.”

  “Splendid,” Harry exclaimed.

  His handling of the boy fascinated Claire. There had been fear in Derebourne’s eyes, and she’d expected him to berate his son—perhaps even punish him in some way. But he seemed to understand the ways of a boy and how to manage them without hurting or humiliating them. A yearning invaded her to be a part of a family that laughed and loved as Derebourne and his sons did. A feeling of loneliness seeped into her heart.

  They returned to the horses and rode for another hour. Claire showed them the fields of wheat, corn and cotton. She pointed to a large building in the distance. “There is the dairy and beyond, the tenant’s cottages. I’ll take you there on another day and introduce the tenants to their new lord.”

  Derebourne listened attentively and asked intelligent questions. Her concern for the tenant’s welfare under their new lord eased. Harry also asked questions, impressing her with his quick mind.

  Riding with the two of them, listening to their banter and answering their clever questions, she again longed for something she would never have.

  But she had made up her mind on one thing. She wanted her first kiss and the angel riding beside her was the one she wanted it from. How did one go about getting a man to kiss her?

  Would he even want to?

  Chapter Five

  Chase covertly observed the woman riding next to him. The blue riding habit brought out the deep blue of her eyes, and her cheeks were rosy from the wind and exertion. Strands of pale hair had come loose, curling around her neck. In his rogue days, he would have reached over and twirled a lock around his finger. Would it feel as silky as it looked?

  His gaze moved to her mouth, one entirely too kissable. She nibbled on her bottom lip—something she really needed to stop doing. An image of taking that lush, plump lip between his teeth and...bloody hell.

  “Race you home,” he called and spurred Mischief.

  Back at the Abbey, Chase sent a note to Lady Claire asking permission to bring Harry and Bensey to dinner. He didn’t trust himself alone with her. She replied that she would be delighted to have the twins join them. When Anders arrived to help him dress, he fussed over what to wear.

  “I don’t know which of you is more difficult tonight,” Anders commented.

  “Which of whom?” Chase discarded the coat Anders had chosen. “And I’m not being difficult, I just don’t want to wear this one.”

  “That is the third one you don’t wish to wear, my lord. You are going to run out of choices soon. Harry was as particular as you when I helped him dress. He said he must be perfect for the lady.” Anders gave him an amused smile. “I don’t suppose that’s your problem?”

  “I have no idea what you’re going on about. And wipe that irritating smile off your face.”

  Anders’ smile transformed itself into a smirk. “Is this better, my lord?”

  “No, it’s not better.” Chase picked up the forest green coat of superfine. “I’ll wear this one.”

  “Ah, of course, the one I first chose and you rejected.”

  Chase held out his arms so Anders could put the snug coat on him. “I know you believe yourself to be entertaining, Anders, but truly, you are not.”

  His insolent valet laughed. Chase would have made Anders redo his cravat, but the man was entirely too amused as it was. So he was being more particular than usual. It didn’t mean anything. He merely wanted to make a presentable appearance.

  He strode down the hall to the boys’ room and found them in an argument—the first he had known them to have. “What is the meaning of your raised voices?”

  “I want to escort Lady Derebourne into dinner and so does Bensey,” Harry said. “But I said it first, so I should get to be the one.”

  “I’m the oldest, so it should be me,” Bensey countered.

  That was news to Chase. He’d never thought to ask which was the firstborn. The twins glared at each other. Well, it seemed his boys were experiencing their first infatuation. His had been with a governess at least ten years older.

  “This is easily solved,” he said, suppressing a chuckle. “You may both escort Lady Derebourne, one on each side.”

  Identical smiles formed on their faces. “Splendid,” Harry said.

  “Thank you, Father,” Bensey said. “I knew you would have the answer.”

  Ye gods, he loved these boys. Taking their hands, they descended the stairs. Chase ushered the twins into the family parlor.

  Seated on the sofa, Lady Claire stood when they entered. She wore a lavender half-mourning gown—her hair styled in an artful weave of twists and curls. Harry and Bensey stopped, staring in awe. Chase stepped around the boys and bowed. The twins came to their senses and followed his example, giving her their little boy bows.

  “My lady, allow me to compliment your lovely gown,” Chase said. It might not be the height of London fashion, but it was certainly an improvement over her widow’s weeds.

  “You look ever so splendid, Lady Derebourne,” Harry said.<
br />
  Not to be left out, Bensey added, “You are as pretty as a flower.”

  She curtseyed. “Aren’t I the fortunate one to have such handsome gentlemen joining me for dinner?”

  The boys beamed and Chase made a mental note to thank her for her kindness in treating a pair of street urchins as if they had every right to be in her presence.

  She sat and patted the space on each side of her. The twins looked to him for approval and Chase nodded. They took their seats and he settled into a chair facing them.

  “I hope you enjoyed your day in the conservatory, Bensey,” she said.

  “Oh yes, lady, it was the best ever.”

  Harry leaned around Lady Claire and said in a whisper meant for Bensey, but loud enough for all to hear. “It’s ‘my’ lady, Bensey.”

  Bensey turned distraught eyes his way. “Is she his lady, Father?”

  Lady Claire’s lips twitched, and Chase was hard pressed to prevent his own lips from twitching. Before he could respond, Harry spoke up.

  In a gentle voice he often used with his brother, he said, “No, I only meant you are supposed to say, ‘my lady’, not just ‘lady’.”

  “If she is not his lady or my lady, why are we supposed to say, ‘my lady’?” Bensey asked.

  Lady Claire’s eyes sparkled with humor. “Yes, Lord Derebourne, why is that?”

  Three pairs of eyes focused on him, one blue-eyed pair entirely too amused. How did one explain to a brilliant boy something too simple for his comprehension?

  “It’s the same as when you used to call me ‘my lord’, Bensey. It’s the way the thing is done.”

  “I called you my lord, Father, because you were mine and a lord.”

  Harry rolled his eyes. “You’re not explaining it to him right, Father.”

  “Then let’s see how well you can explain it.”

  Lady Claire pressed her lips together. If this went on much longer, she was going to lose the battle to hold in her laughter. Chase exchanged an amused glance with her. His heart did a little bounce at the warmth in her smile.

  Bloody hell. This lady wasn’t for him, and he needed to remember he had other plans for her. He didn’t want her turning those blue eyes his way.

  Harry cleared his throat. “A long time ago, maybe a thousand years even, the king made a rule that all the lords must call the noble ladies ‘my lady’ so the lords would know which lady they could marry. Think about it, Bensey. What if a lord married the butcher’s daughter by mistake because he thought she was a lady? No one calls Bettna ‘my lady’, so a lord knows he can’t marry her.”

  Chase turned to Harry in wonder. Where did the boy come up with these things? Apparently, this made perfect sense to Bensey because he nodded his agreement.

  Lady Claire suddenly stood. “Excuse me, please,” she said, a suspicious tremble in her voice. “I need to check on…” Her words trailed off and then Chase thought he heard her mumble “refreshments” as she exited the room.

  Claire made it as far as the library before she gave way to the merriment. Sweet heavens, she had never laughed this hard. The thought sobered her. This was what had been missing in her life. Laughter and the love of a family. For surely, Lord Derebourne and his sons were a family. She had seen the truth of it in his eyes when Harry spun his tale. Derebourne loved his boys, and, oh God, why hadn’t Thomas loved Andrew like that?

  “Lady Claire?”

  She spun. Lord Derebourne stood in the doorway. “I was just…” Just what? She was lost in her own misery and didn’t want him to be a witness. He approached her the way she did a wild horse—cautious and slow.

  “I had thought to come and share a moment of amusement. Instead, I find tears in your eyes. What makes you sad, Claire?”

  The intimacy of his use of her name was too much to bear. Tears she couldn’t stop flowed down her cheeks. He pulled her into an embrace, and she foolishly allowed him to hold her.

  “Tell me.” He gave her back a few awkward pats.

  The words flowed from her mouth. “Andrew…my son. I’ll never be able to laugh at his funny stories, will never see him dressed like a little gentleman. I’ll never be able to tell him how much I loved him.”

  “Ah, Christ, Claire. I’m sorry.” He offered no other words, only held her close and she found comfort in the warmth radiating from him. When her sobs ceased, he leaned back and caught a tear with his thumb. “The boys are missing your company. Are you well enough to return, or should I make your excuse?”

  “No, I want to stay. I’m fine, truly. It was strange. They were so very amusing, but I didn’t want to laugh in front of them and have them misunderstand. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry.”

  “Don’t apologize for loving your son.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “Here, wipe your eyes. I’ll tell the boys you’re right behind me. They’re in the throes of their first infatuation and will be watching the door for your return. They had their first ever disagreement tonight—the heart of it being who would escort you into dinner. I hope you don’t mind, but I solved the dispute by telling them they could both do the honors.”

  She looked into eyes as blue as a robin’s egg and smiled. “I would be honored, my lord.”

  “Chase,” he said and left.

  Chase. The name suited him. She said it aloud to see how it sounded on her lips. She would never call him that, of course, except perhaps in her mind. When she put the handkerchief to her face to wipe her tears, she smelled him. Bringing the square of cloth to her nose, she inhaled the scent of bergamot.

  Would he notice if she didn’t return the handkerchief? Slipping it into the sleeve of her gown, she reached the door of the drawing room as Mrs. Smithfield rolled the teacart in.

  Chase stood when Claire entered and flicked his hand at the boys. They shot to their feet, but their attention was on the cart. She smiled. They might be infatuated with her, but at the moment, they only had eyes for the plate of cakes.

  “Have a seat, Lady Claire, and allow me to do the honors.”

  Derebourne’s concern touched her. Not even her father had shown much regard for her in the seventeen years she had lived in his home. Yet, this man she had only known a few days offered to take care of her. Her heart took a little tumble.

  He pulled a small table over to the sofa and placed the glasses of lemonade and a plate of cakes on it. “What do you like above all things, boys?”

  “Cakes!” they exclaimed in unison.

  Whenever he grinned, his dimple appeared. Her butterflies apparently liked dimples very much.

  “Milk and sugar, my lady?”

  “Yes, please.” Her voice sounded odd to her ears—breathless, as if she’d just ran up the stairs.

  He put an assortment of cakes on a plate and set them and the teacup on the table next to her. After pouring himself a brandy, he sat in the chair closest to her. “I discovered the use of cakes as a bribe the first day I dragged Harry home with me.”

  “Father made me take a bath,” Harry said. “I didn’t want one, but he gave me cakes, so I didn’t mind so much.” His gaze fell. “Now, I like baths,” he added, giving her his cheeky grin.

  “I like baths, too,” Bensey said around a mouthful of cake.

  Dragged Harry home with him? What did he mean by that? And why had the boys once called him my lord? She wanted to ask, but didn’t know if she should. He took a sip of his brandy and her eyes followed his hand as he brought the drink to his lips.

  Long, elegant fingers held the glass, and the sapphire of his signet ring reminded her of his eyes. She lifted her lashes to see that his attention was on her. Blasted butterflies. Would they ever go away? His attention shifted to the twins and the air swished out of her lungs.

  “Harry, did you tell Bensey the two of you are going to have a swimming lesson tomorrow?”

  “Yes, Father. He wants to know how he’s getting down to the lake.”

  “I saw a pony cart in the stables. If Lady Derebourne is agreeable, we
’ll borrow it.”

  “It is your cart and the pony to pull it, Lord Derebourne. You needn’t ask me to borrow what is yours, my lord. Excuse me, please. I need to see if dinner is ready.”

  Once out of his sight, she leaned against the wall inhaling deep breaths. She was flustered and it was his fault. One minute he made her feel fluttery inside and all she could think about was kissing him, then in the next, she wanted to rail at him for the unfairness of it all. Pushing away from the wall, she went to check on dinner.

  Chase narrowed his eyes on the back of the confusing woman. What had he said to rile her?

  “You made her angry, Father,” Harry accused.

  Yes, apparently, he had. It had to be because of all she had lost. Although he wasn’t to blame for the circumstances that brought him here, she had no one else to take out her anger on. Her little champion glared at him. He’d never been anything but a hero to Harry before, and this was new ground.

  “I think she’s only worried about our meal being ready on time.” By the boy’s fierce scowl, Harry wasn’t buying it.

  She returned and announced dinner. By her smile, it appeared she’d gotten over her little snit. Relieved, he nodded at the twins. “You may escort Lady Derebourne in to dinner.”

  Trailing along behind them, Chase inhaled the faint scent of violets. He liked violets. Instead of the formal dining room, she led them to a small, intimate room where a square table was set for four.

  All during dinner, she chatted cheerfully with the boys, but ignored him unless he asked a direct question. Apparently, she wasn’t over it—whatever it was—after all. When they finished their meal, Lady Claire excused herself for the evening. Chase took the twins to Mr. Edwards and then returned to his room. After Anders left, he tried to read the horse breeding book he’d found in the library. When he caught himself staring off into space for the third time, he tossed the book aside.

  The picture of Claire shedding tears for her son played in his mind. It had been a mistake to hold her in his arms even if it had only been to comfort her.