The Marquess's Stolen Vow: A Regency Romance, page 22
THE MARQUESS’S STOLEN VOW
A REGENCY ROMANCE
LORDS OF LOST HEARTS
ROSE PEARSON
LANDON HILL MEDIA
CONTENTS
The Marquess’s Stolen Vow
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
Epilogue
My Dear Reader
A Sneak Peek of The Uncompromising Marquess
Prologue
Chapter 1
Join my Mailing List and Facebook Reader Group
© Copyright 2026 by Rose Pearson - All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document by either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
Respective author owns all copyrights not held by the publisher.
THE MARQUESS’S STOLEN VOW
PROLOGUE
“Eleanor?”
His whisper made her jump, her skin prickling as she smiled into the gloom. “I can hear you, but I cannot see you.”
A low chuckle made her heart leap up, anticipation building. It had been nearly a month now since she had first come upon a gentleman riding through the woods that were on the far edge of her father’s estate, and since that time, her entire world had changed.
“The clouds are very low in the sky this afternoon, are they not?” he said as Eleanor tried her best to spy him amongst the trees. “I am sure it will threaten rain.”
“I care not.” Lifting her chin, Eleanor spun around, but she saw nothing aside from branches and leaves. “Even if I get soaked to the skin, it will be worth it because I shall be with you.”
There came a moment of silence.
“With such sweet words upon your lips, what could prevent me from coming to you?”
As Eleanor turned around, she saw the gentleman she had come to adore stepping out from behind a large oak tree, a smile on his face, his eyes twinkling with both good humor and, she hoped, a sense of anticipation such as she felt. Rather than go to him, however, Eleanor tilted her head and clasped her hands behind her back, watching him.
“Oh, you will punish me now?” he teased, coming slowly towards her as Eleanor’s heart quickened all the more. “You will not come to me? You will not step into my arms as I know you have been longing to do?”
Her eyebrow arched. “As you have been hoping for also, I pray?”
The look in his eyes changed from teasing to tenderness. “But of course.” Lifting his hand, he let his fingers run down her cheek and to her jawline, making Eleanor shiver lightly. “You know very well that you have quite captured me, Eleanor.”
Unable to stay back, Eleanor melted into him, her arms going up around his neck as his hands captured her waist. Their kiss was long and sweet, gentle and yet with a hint of the passion that would soon come, should their path continue on together. That was a subject that had not yet been breached, but Eleanor’s conscience would not let her stay silent about the matter for long. She had to know what it was the Marquess of Finchley intended for her.
The kiss ended, and Eleanor let out a slow sigh of contentment and rested her head on his chest for a moment. Usually, they took a walk through the woods together, discussing all manner of things, carefully avoiding the subject of their potential future together. Eleanor had not thought it right that she should be the one to bring up the matter, but given Lord Finchley’s silence, she now felt as if she had no choice.
“Eleanor?”
Her head lifted. “Mmm?”
Lord Finchley took in a deep breath and then let it out, his expression becoming a little more severe. “Eleanor, there is something I think we should discuss.”
The look on his face was so serious, Eleanor pulled back quickly, suddenly afraid that he was about to end all that they had shared. Had she been a fool to let herself be taken into his arms? He had reassured her he was no rogue, and she had believed him, for he had never urged her to do anything more than share an embrace, but what if she had been wrong about that? What if she should never have allowed herself to trust him?
“We have not yet told your parents about our connection,” he said, slowly as his fingers brushed back a stray curl from her temple. “I know that your father gives you a good deal of freedom at present, especially when your mother is away from home with your sister, Lady Watten, and her new husband.”
Eleanor smiled at him, glad to know that he had taken in all that she had shared with him these last few weeks. He had even remembered the name of her sister, which was most encouraging indeed!
“All the same,” Lord Finchley continued, rubbing one hand behind his neck, “there could very well be questions about where you have been and why you have so often come to the woods. The servants will know, I am sure, for they always know everything!”
“And you do not want word coming back to my father,” Eleanor said, a dull pain beginning to hammer its way into her heart as she took a step back. “I can assure you, Lord Finchley, that you need have no concern. My servants are very quiet and will not say a word to anyone.”
Lord Finchley caught both of her hands in his, an exasperated sound in his voice. “Do not step away now, Eleanor. You have misunderstood me.”
Eleanor, who had been trying to tug her hand free gently from his grip whilst inwardly calling herself all manner of names for her misplaced trust in him, stopped short and looked up at him instead. “Misunderstood?”
“It is not because I do not want your father to know,” he said, quickly but with a softness to his tone that begged her to listen. “It is because I am tired of this… of this skulking about. I understand that we did not intend for this connection to happen – though I am glad that it did – but whilst we might have been enjoying it, it is important for me now to speak to your father. Things must, if you would wish them to be, Eleanor, a little more formal from now on.”
Not fully understanding him, Eleanor gazed back into his eyes, seeing the light lingering there. “You want to speak with my father about our connection?”
“Yes.” Lord Finchley smiled. “You are of age, are you not?”
To marry? The words almost left his lips as Eleanor’s eyes flared, astonishment rushing up through her. They had only been acquainted for a little over a month, and now he was considering marriage? Her heart pulled back only to then leap with a sudden, furious joy as she realized just how strongly she felt about this gentleman.
“I am out, yes,” she responded, her voice in a whisper as emotions began to rush through her, one at a time. “I made my debut last Season and now, with the London Season soon to be upon me again, I must begin to prepare for it.”
“Unless I can find a way to keep you back from it – and from all the gentlemen who will, no doubt, have a keen interest in you.” Lord Finchley ran one finger lightly over her lips, and Eleanor wanted to throw herself back into his arms, such was the wave of happiness and anticipation that rushed over her. “I want you all to myself, Eleanor. Therefore, I think it is time that I speak to your father and ask to court you, with the expectation that an engagement will soon be forthcoming.” His green eyes twinkled. “We must pretend that we are not well known to each other, my darling. I should not want your father or mother to think that anything untoward has been going on, else they will think very poorly of me indeed!”
This made Eleanor laugh as she threw her arms around his neck and let him hold her tightly. The happiness within her was so great, she could barely contain it, wishing that she could cling to him and stay there for the rest of her days. To be so near to him, to be so close, was all she desired, though if they were soon to wed, then it would not be long until she had her wish.
“You will accept me, will you not?”
Leaning back, Eleanor ran her fingers through his light brown hair as it draped itself across his forehead, pushing it back just a little. “My dear Finchley, can it be that you have some doubt in your heart over my answer?”
The edge of his lip curled upwards. “It is not that I doubt, Eleanor. It is only that I want to hear those words on your lips.”
Eleanor smiled, pushed herself up on tiptoe, and with her hands grasping his shoulders for balance, settled her lips on his. “Yes,” she murmured, pulling back a fraction, only to kiss him again. After another moment, she broke the kiss and, seeing his eyes closed and hearing his quickened breath, smiled softly. “Yes, Finchley. When the time comes for you to ask me to marry you, I swear to you that I will accept.”
“Then I will call tomorrow,” he breathed, his eyes still closed. “For I do not think I can wait any longer to make it known to all just how much I care for you.”
Eleanor wrapped her arms around her knees, looking out into the darkness as she sat in the window seat of the library.
Lord Finchley had not come.
It had been two days since they had met in the woods, two days since he had made her that promise. What had become of him? What had become of his word to her? She had sent a note earlier that day to his estate, begging to know where he was and what had happened to cause him to delay. His estate was not more than half a day’s ride away, and she had been expecting her servant to return for the last hour or two. What answer he would bring with him, however, Eleanor did not know.
Was I a fool? Closing her eyes against the hot tears that began to burn in her eyes, Eleanor let out a ragged breath and shook her head no. It could not be that all Lord Finchley had said was a lie, could it? All the things he had promised her, all the things he had sworn to her, had they been nothing but falsehoods? Eleanor could not bring herself to believe it. To accept that she had been deceived in Lord Finchley would mean not only shame for her but a broken heart, and at present, Eleanor could not yet face that.
“My lady?”
The door opened a crack, and Eleanor, swinging her legs down from the window seat and hastily wiping her eyes, called for the servant to come in.
“Forgive me for the interruption. The maid assured me you were here, but when I knocked, there was no response.” The man bowed low. “I apologize for that.”
“There is no apology required,” Eleanor answered, hastily. “Pray, tell me if there is a reply?”
Her servant bowed his head low, his shoulders rounding, and in an instant, Eleanor knew all was not well.
“He was making his way from the estate when I came to it, my lady,” he said, as Eleanor frowned, her heart beginning to pull into a panicked rhythm. “I did not dare ask where he was going, but when I said to him I had a letter from you, he – ” Stuttering to a stop, the man shifted on his feet as Eleanor sank into a chair, already anticipating some dreadful news. “He would not accept it, my lady.”
Eleanor let out an involuntary gasp of shock, her eyes flaring wide as the servant looked back at her, misery in his expression. Clearly, he had anticipated what this would do to her and had been entirely disinclined towards sharing it, but he had been obliged to do so nonetheless. Eleanor, for her part, could not even think. Her mind was blank, shock filling her like ice. Her eyes went wide and staring, her hands gripping the arms of the chair, her breathing coming in sharp gasps as she tried to make sense of what had been said.
“Perhaps a brandy?” When Eleanor did not answer, the servant made his way quickly across the room and poured her a small measure into a glass, which he pressed into her hand. Eleanor stared down at it, feeling as if she were slowly sinking into the dark shadows of the room.
“Should I fetch someone, my lady?” The servant was gazing at her with clear concern, but Eleanor could only shake her head. Who was there to tell? Her father did not know of Lord Finchley, her mother was gone from the house, and thus, she was now quite alone.
Truly alone, for I do not have Lord Finchley’s heart any longer. Her eyes closed, tears slipping onto her cheeks. Perhaps I never really did.
“My lady?”
“You have done well.” Pulling out her handkerchief, Eleanor wiped at her eyes. “There is nothing more you need to do now. Go.”
The servant looked as if he were to defy her, as if he wanted to do or say something more that would bring her comfort, but with a wave of her hand, Eleanor made her dismissal clear. With a nod, the man took himself from the room and, upon hearing the door closing behind him, Eleanor put her head in her hands and began to weep.
She had been a fool, then. Nothing but an inexperienced, trusting fool who Lord Finchley had decided to cast aside instead of continuing with his duping. No doubt he was laughing at her now, thinking of just how easily she had been taken in by him.
Her heart broke into tiny pieces as Eleanor cried tears of sorrow and anguish. She was alone in this, for no one else knew of their connection, and thus, she was alone in her pain and brokenness. What she had thought to be one of the happiest days of her life had now turned into the most difficult and trying of days instead. Now, all she was left with as a memory of Lord Finchley was a shattered heart.
1
Eleanor looked back at her reflection.
“I do think you need to eat a little more, my lady.” Her lady’s maid, Gillian, set a pendant at Eleanor’s neck. “You have become a little paler these last few months, and I must say, I am concerned for you.”
With a wane smile, Eleanor touched the pendant lightly. “I am just a little anxious, that is all.”
“What of?” her maid asked, their relationship having been established for so many years, there was nearly enough of a friendship between them. “You made your come out last year, my lady, and that went very well indeed. I am sure you have nothing to worry about.”
A small sigh escaped her, but she quickly tried to smile. “You are quite right. All the same, I confess that there is still a nervousness within me.”
“You need not worry,” her maid promised, stepping back so Eleanor could admire her reflection. “Everything will go very well indeed and I am sure you will return home with a good many stories to tell of all the different gentlemen you danced with.”
Eleanor looked down at her hands, her heart still aching over the loss of Lord Finchley and her own blind trust in him. “Mayhap.” Lifting her head, she saw the maid’s warm smile and felt it lift her spirits just a little. “You are very good, Gillian. I should take my leave. The carriage and father will be waiting.”
Her maid bobbed a curtsy, and Eleanor managed to smile, pausing for a moment.
“And do not think you need to wait up for my return. Take yourself to bed, Gillian. You have no other duties this evening.”
A glowing smile spread across Gillian’s face. “Thank you, my lady. I hope you have a very pleasant evening.”
With a nod and a knot tightening in her stomach, Eleanor made her way from the room and descended the stairs. This was not her first time in London, as her maid had said, but she felt as if it were. The nervousness, the anxiety, and the worry were all the same as the previous year, though Eleanor was quite sure they came from an entirely different source.
What if he is here?
Chasing the thought away as best she could, Eleanor made her way to the carriage, which as she had thought, was already waiting for her, her father inside.
“You are a little late, Eleanor.”
“I apologize, Father,” Eleanor replied, sitting down quickly as the footman shut the door behind her. “I could not decide what necklace to wear.”
The Earl of Hereford cast an eye over her, then nodded approvingly. “You look very well, my dear.”
“I thank you.”
“You must make a match this Season, however. I hope you are aware of that.”
Eleanor swallowed hard as the carriage began to make its way towards Lord Kingston’s townhouse for the grand ball. “I know that you expect me to make a match, Father, but – ”
“It is not an expectation but a stipulation,” he stated firmly. “Your sister was wed in her second Season, and you must do the same. To have a third Season means that your chances of matrimony slip away from you, Eleanor! Your mother and I want to see you wed and settled, just as your brother and sister are.”
Looking down at her hands, Eleanor said nothing. She had not given much thought to her requirement to wed this Season, having been much too distracted by thoughts of Lord Finchley. It was deeply frustrating to her that her heart would not permit him to free himself from her. All she wanted to do was forget him, to step away from all thought of him, but still, he lingered. She would awake in the night, having dreamt of being in his arms, of his returning to her with a deep and painful regret that he had ever treated her so cruelly. Eleanor wanted to hate him, wanted to push him far away from her as best she could, but there was no strength and seemingly no willingness for her to succeed.
