Second Chance Marquess (Second Chance Series Book 1) Read online

  Second Chance Marquess

  Jessica Jefferson

  Copyright © 2017 by Jessica Jefferson

  Kindle Edition

  Published by Dragonblade Publishing, an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is dedicated to the Mid-Michigan Romance Writers of America.

  Thanks for hanging out with me.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  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

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Mrs. Wilhelmina Turner stood in the entryway of the Marquess of Chesterton’s London townhouse, soaking wet and mad as hell.

  “I don’t really care if his lordship is sleeping. You gather him up and bring him down here to face me straight away or else I’ll go up there and retrieve him myself!”

  The butler took a step back, holding his hands up to defend himself against potential assault. “Madame, if you could please keep your voice down—”

  She took a step forward and stared up at the man, hands upon her hips. “I will do no such thing. Not until I find out what he’s done with my sister.”

  The day before, her half-sister, Kitty, had gone out for her usual afternoon walk, but didn’t make it home for dinner. Her tardiness was habitual—the girl was a bit of henwit and often lost track of time. But when she hadn’t made it back by nightfall, Wilhelmina started to worry.

  And when she hadn’t returned by morning, Wilhelmina had all but lost her mind.

  Who could blame her? A naïve girl of ten and eight didn’t stand a chance against the sordid world that was London after dark. Any number of awful things could befall a young lady—robbery, molestation, abduction.

  But after learning the ugly truth of what had actually happened to her dear sister only an hour ago, she couldn’t help but think Kitty would have been better off taking her chances on the streets of the east end then succumbing to the most unfortunate fate orchestrated by the man currently residing at this fashionable Mayfair address.

  She heard a rough cough and turned toward the stairs where a man was descending, barefooted and wearing nothing but an open banyan and a pair of buckskins.

  “Dear God, what is all this racket about?” Lord Chesterton called down. “Will somebody please tell me what exactly is going on down here?” He coughed again. “Preferably after they’ve brought me a drink.”

  A man in his late thirties, he looked every bit the rogue. His handsome face possessed distinguished features—a long, straight nose and a deep cleft in his square chin. Silver threads wove into his black waves at his temples, contrasting sharply against his olive complexion. The man’s presence alone could easily drive any woman to distraction, let alone given his current state of undress. But Wilhelmina refused to let herself be diverted from her mission by a set of wide shoulders and a broad chest.

  Even if she did have first-hand knowledge of just how warm and strong that same chest felt underneath her bare hands.

  The butler snapped his heels together and bowed. “I apologize, my lord. She said you were expecting her. Then, after I let her in, well, she became quite difficult to manage.” He inclined his head slightly toward the Marquess. “She said you had her sister,” he whispered discreetly.

  “And you believed her?” Chesterton pulled the dressing gown shut.

  The butler swallowed. His silence was answer enough.

  Chesterton cast the man a disparaging look, then gestured for him to step aside. “Miss—” He cut himself off, his bright blue eyes grew wide as realization spread across his other features. “Willie?”

  So, he did remember.

  “Mrs. Turner,” she corrected. “I married.”

  “Yes, of course.” he said, the muscles in his jaw tightening and releasing. “How could I have forgotten?” With a nod of his head, he dismissed the butler before continuing. “Now, how exactly may I be of service?”

  “My sister is missing,” she answered firmly.

  “Mrs. Turner,” Chesterton continued, looking around at the number of servants who’d begun accumulating in the hall. “Perhaps we can find a more private location in which to continue this conversation? If you’d be so kind as to follow me into a drawing room, I’ll have Cook make up some refreshments—”

  She stomped her foot. “I don’t want refreshments! I want to know what you’ve done with Kitty, you bastard!”

  Chesterton’s brows furrowed. “As much as I’ve hoped there might be a question of my parentage, unfortunately it is not so. I am without a doubt my father’ son, no matter how I wish it weren’t so. And I am afraid you are also mistaken about the whereabouts of your sister. I don’t even know a woman named Kitty.” His voice was calm, the icy civility of his tone raking over her like a cold wind off the Irish Sea.

  She refused to allow him to diffuse yet another situation with his easy charm and good looks. This was her sister, and granted that ridiculous girl had been a pain in her arse since the day she was born, but she was just that, her pain in the arse, and it was her duty to keep her safe. Even if that meant confronting the devil himself.

  Or worse, Lord Chesterton.

  “My lord, I have it under good authority that my sister was last seen in your presence.”

  Save for the slightest tensing of his jaw, he didn’t exhibit any outward signs of guilt. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you. If you’ll remember, I only ever met your aunt, so I have no idea who your sister is, let alone where she might be. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d prefer to continue this discussion without the benefit of an audience.”

  He tried to walk past her, but she quickly stepped into his path, effectively blocking him from going any further. “I heard it from one of the servants. She told me everything.” Her nose was practically touching his chest, the strong odor of stale cigar smoke, brandy, and virility wafting up, assaulting her senses and dulling her anger. “She works in our kitchen and even though it took some coaxing and a few threats regarding the status of her employment, she eventually confessed that she’d been in the park with Kitty’s maid and had witnessed her meeting you there.”

  “A servant from the kitchen and your sister’s maid? My innocence is being compromised because of the claim of the help?” He balked.

  “Their word is just as worthy as anyone else’s. She described the seal on your coach perfectly. That’s how I knew it was you.” She should have been shocked, hurt, even devastated at the notion of Lord Chesterton seducing a member of her own family, but she wasn’t. He’d always operated under a different moral code than the rest of Society, showing a blatant disregard for propriety as well as indifference to anyone’s feelings but his own. His lack of remorse was a testament to his guile and legendary depravity.

  All she cared about was getting her sister back, preferably with both her reputation and virginity intact. Though she’d be willing to forgo the latte
r for the former seeing that it was nearly impossible to fake an intact reputation.

  He combed his hand through his already mussed hair. “This woman actually saw me speaking with your sister?”

  “Not you exactly. But she saw Kitty board your carriage.”

  “My carriage?” He repeated. “Well, that’s hardly the same thing…” His voice trailed off as he rubbed his chin. “In the park you say?”

  “Yes.”

  “And just when did she say she saw me?”

  “Yesterday afternoon.”

  “And what exactly is your sister’s name?”

  “Miss Kitty Marks.”

  “Miss Katherine Marks?” he clarified.

  “Yes, that’s her!” She answered, annoyed that the conversation had carried on this long. “Now do you remember?”

  The man took her by the shoulders and pushed her aside, walking straight past her in a bee-line down the hall.

  “Don’t walk away from me!” she called after him, her skin burning underneath her gown in the places his hands had touched her. “What about Kitty?”

  She chased after him, following him into a study where she found him pouring a generous tumbler of brandy. He promptly downed the amber liquid and refilled his glass.

  “Mrs. Turner, I’m afraid I may know where your sister is.”

  Chapter 2

  “Well?” Her hand flew up to her chest, trying to control the rapid beating of her heart.

  The butler came in before he had a chance to answer. “Did you need something, my lord?”

  “My brother? Did he come home last night?”

  “No. He left yesterday, taking several trunks with him. It appeared as if he’d emptied out his rooms.”

  Chesterton paused, his glass halfway to his lips. “And you didn’t feel inclined to tell me?”

  “He said you should have been expecting as much.” The butler’s eyes widened as he realized his blunder.

  Chesterton rolled his eyes. “Of course he did, the little sot.”

  Wilhelmina took a step forward. “Your brother?” She vaguely remembered him mentioning something about having a younger sibling away at Eton. They didn’t speak much about their families then, broaching the subject always seemed to erupt in conflict. It was easier just to pretend they were both orphans, two people all alone in the world. Until they couldn’t anymore.

  “Yes, Henry, Lord Wainscott, now.”

  Henry. He’d be just a few years older than Kitty. Her stomach sank. “Do you think…?”

  “Oh, I don’t think, Mrs. Turner. I know.” He finished off the contents of his glass, then walked back over to the decanter of brandy and replenished its contents. “Here, you’ll need this.” He thrust the tumbler toward her.

  She accepted it and quickly gulped down the liquid without as much as a sputter.

  He watched in earnest, raising an eyebrow when she passed the glass back to him.

  “I’m a widow, Lord Chesterton, not a nun. This isn’t my first sip of brandy and I’m sure it won’t be my last. Now pour me another glass. An occasion such as this calls for a bit of imbibing, don’t you think?”

  His lips bent up into a devious smile, a smile she’d spent years trying to forget. “Two fingers this time?”

  “Make it three.”

  Still smirking, he refilled the glass and passed it back to her.

  She held the cut crystal tumbler up in mock salute. “So, it was your brother, Lord Wainscott, who’s been meeting Kitty in the park.” She sipped the content more slowly this time.

  He swirled the liquid in his own glass around, staring into it as if it were a crystal ball about to reveal all the answers to their questions. “Yes, I’m afraid so. Henry is a bit of a handful.”

  As he stared into the glass, she seized the opportunity to reacquaint herself with his features. He was handsome as ever, even with the addition of a few creases about the eyes. Her pulse quickened and she admonished herself. She’d been a fool to believe she could see him again and remain unaffected.

  For years she’d been constantly reminded of him, his exploits being common fodder for the broadsheets. It took a while, but she’d eventually built up a tolerance to hearing any mention of his name. But now, seeing him in the flesh, standing in such close proximity…well, it wasn’t the brandy alone giving her that dizzy, heady feeling.

  “Do you know where he is?” she asked, hoping the gravity of the situation would help restore the sensation of having a floor beneath her feet.

  “Not for certain, but I have a hunch he may be en route to my country estate, Chesterton. It’s just a few hours south of Scotland.”

  “With my sister?” She finished the thought for him.

  “Possibly,” he answered, frowning.

  “Then we must go there.”

  His frown deepened, the lines of his forehead more prominent than before. “Not we, Mrs. Turner. I’ll go there and send word back of what I find.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. I’m coming with you.” She set the glass down.

  He ignored her, turning his attention to the butler. “Nigel, I’ll need my carriage.”

  The butler bowed. “I’ll have it made ready straight away. Would you like me to have your valet prepare a trunk?”

  “Yes. I’ll need at least a week’s worth of clothing. That should be enough to get me through the two days’ travel and then whatever situation I find myself in once I get there.”

  Willie watched as he started gathering documents and books from the desk, his robe gaping just enough to give her a view of his flat torso. She hated to think about the types of activities he engaged in in order to maintain such a trim middle. “I’ll bring these along for the ride. Will you send word to my solicitor? I may need him.”

  “Of course. Will that be all?” the butler asked, taking the papers from his employer.

  “Yes. Hopefully I arrive before anything irreversible transpires.”

  She bit her lip, fully aware of just what he meant by the remark. And if Lord Wainscott possessed a modicum of his brother’s charm, then Kitty’s ruination wasn’t merely a possibility, it was a promise. “We must stop him.”

  Chesterton stopped what he was doing. “Him?”

  She hugged herself. “If your brother as much as touches one hair on Kitty’s head…” That pretty, empty, little head, she added silently.

  He arched one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Willie, it’s not my brother that needs stopping. It’s your sister that I’m worried about.”

  *

  “My sister?” She repeated, her beautiful face turning quite the unflattering shade of red.

  God, she looked so much the same. It was hard to imagine a day had passed, let alone ten years.

  “I’ve been trying to protect my brother from Miss Katherine Marks since the day I met her. I almost beat him senseless after I learned of their first little rendezvous.”

  “Rendezvous? First?”

  He narrowed his gaze. She’d been rendered a parrot by the shock of it all.

  George removed a silver holder from his desk drawer and took out a cigar. “Henry met your sister at Hyde just a couple weeks ago. I was with him when it happened. I saw him staring at her, walking down the path with her companion. She stumbled when she walked past us. Henry, ever the gentleman, held out his arms and caught her, saving both her pride and her pretty gown. She’s a beautiful girl and immediately, I knew he was smitten.”

  Willie stood there silently, taking it all in, her lips slightly parted.

  Those full, pink lips, perfect for kissing…

  “I recognized the signs immediately,” he continued. “But pretty girls are a common enough sight in London this time of year, and Henry’s attentions have always been fleeting at best, so I believed he’d forgotten about her. Until I’d learned that the two had met again.”

  “But how? I’m always almost with her. On the few occasions I’ve allowed her to take a stroll around the park, I made certain she took her m
aid along. There’s not a single moment she’s left alone. Her safety has always been my upmost priority.”

  He smirked. Willie was never one to remain speechless for too long. “No. But everyone has a price. I suppose her maid’s silence was quite easily purchased, my coachman not so much. Fortunately, he knows where his bread comes from and made me aware of the situation as soon as possible. If it’s any consolation to you, I was told they were quite discreet about it all, my carriage and her maid having been their only real accomplices.”

  Willie brought her fingers up to her temples and started rubbing in small, concentric circles. “How long did you say?”

  “Not too long. It’s only been a couple of weeks” He perched on the corner of the desk.

  “Why, we’ve only been in Town for a few days longer than that!”

  “Henry said she was the loveliest girl he’d ever seen. I called him an idiot and reminded him that he was only five and twenty years old. There was still plenty of time for him to meet other women and not to hang all his hopes on that one. He’d told me I was wrong and that she’d be his. I had no idea he’d go as far as this.”

  “That scoundrel!” She pounded her fists on the desk.

  He narrowed his gaze. “I wouldn’t throw around names if I were you. Your sister is hardly the innocent party here.”

  She leaned forward, bracing herself against the oak desk. “You just said it yourself. Your brother, the cad, had it all planned out.”

  “Marriage to a man with a title would be most advantageous for a girl like Katherine Marks. Not to mention his money. Even with me still in the picture, he still does rather well for himself. Silly chits like your sister are constantly throwing themselves at him, though I’ve never seen a girl do it quite so literally before.”

  His brother, Henry, Viscount Wainscott, had inherited the same good looks as all the Bartlett men, himself included. He also had the benefit of learning all he knew about the opposite sex from his big brother, making for a dangerous combination. Only, he’d the knowledge and experience to know the truth behind a woman’s motivation, whereas Henry was young and consequently ignorant. He was still easily swayed by a head of bouncing blonde curls and a come-hither gaze. Those lessons are often the hardest to learn and nearly impossible to teach.