A Kiss from the Marquess, page 1
A Kiss from the Marquess
The Duke’s Lost Treasures
Book 2
Lana Williams
© Copyright 2022 by Lana Williams
Text by Lana Williams
Cover by Dar Albert
Dragonblade Publishing, Inc. is an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.
P.O. Box 23
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Produced in the United States of America
First Edition July 2022
Kindle Edition
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All Rights Reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
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Additional Dragonblade books by Author Lana Williams
The Duke’s Lost Treasures Series
Once Upon a Duke’s Wish (Book 1)
A Kiss from the Marquess (Book 2)
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Publisher’s Note
Additional Dragonblade books by Author Lana Williams
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Epilogue
About the Author
Chapter One
London, England, May 1876
Norah Wright stared in disbelief at the director of the Museum of Antiquities. “What do you mean he’s not here?”
The stocky, middle-aged man adjusted his round spectacles and cleared his throat. What little grey hair he had was swept over the top of his balding head in a failed attempt to hide it. Someone should tell him he needn’t bother.
“I’m terribly sorry, Miss Wright. I do realize this is the second time his lordship has failed to keep your appointment.” Mr. Stockton pulled his pocket watch from his waistcoat and popped open the lid as if checking the time would somehow bring his employer to the museum. “I can’t imagine what’s keeping him.”
Norah scowled. She had a suspicion of the reason—the fact that she was a woman. Over the past six months, she had encountered more than her fair share of prejudice from men. As a petite blonde, men seemed to assume she didn’t have a thought of her own, nor could she function without their assistance.
However, she shouldn’t jump to conclusions. That the mysterious Simon Webb, the Marquess of Vanbridge, had failed to meet her a second time was no reason to make assumptions. Perhaps he had a valid excuse, though she was highly doubtful of it.
Leo Stanton, the Earl of Marbury and her soon to be brother-in-law, had warned her that the marquess was a bit of a recluse and rarely attended social events. Marbury had offered to send a message to Vanbridge on her behalf, but this was something Norah wanted to do on her own.
Since it was a business matter for Vanbridge’s museum, she’d been certain he would keep the appointment. When he hadn’t shown up for the first meeting, she’d relented and used Marbury’s name when making the second one, not that it had done any good.
“Why would he agree to the meeting if he had no intention of keeping it?” Norah asked, holding tight to her patience.
“It’s not that he doesn’t intend to keep his appointments. More than likely, he simply forgot.”
“My time is just as important as his.” Norah patted her reticule, which contained the carefully wrapped items she wanted to show the marquess to see if he would display them in his museum. “I even brought the artifacts with me.”
“Oh?” Mr. Stockton’s brows rose with interest. “I would be delighted to examine them. I’m certain I can make the proper arrangements for you if they’re of value.”
“No.” Marbury had advised her to talk with Vanbridge. No one else would suffice. “I must speak directly with the marquess. These artifacts will not be stuffed in a corner or placed on a dusty shelf.”
“I can assure you that I—”
“No, thank you.” Norah had only just retrieved the items from the previous museum that had “displayed” them. However, she’d had trouble finding them, despite knowing exactly what she was looking for. How could anyone else possibly view them? That was not what she’d had in mind when she’d started this quest.
Her father, David Wright, had died nineteen months ago while digging in a shaft for treasure on Oak Island in the wilds of Nova Scotia. The items in her reticule, along with a journal her father had kept, were the few items of David Wright’s they still had.
Norah intended to find a museum willing to display the artifacts and share her father’s story of treasure hunting to honor his memory. Never had she realized how difficult finding the right museum would be. The men in charge made vague promises of displaying the pieces but never followed through. Her father’s artifacts were merely more items in a building filled to the roof with random relics.
That simply wouldn’t do.
Norah wanted a special exhibit to honor David Wright’s years of work. Seeing how poorly the two other museums had treated the display of the artifacts made her even more determined to see it done properly. She was not about to hand over the items to another museum employee who wouldn’t follow through with her request.
“I must speak with the marquess personally.”
“Of course.” Mr. Stockton’s lips tightened with displeasure.
Norah lifted her chin, not caring if this man thought her a meddlesome female. She knew what she wanted and intended to get it. While she wasn’t the dutiful daughter that Ella was or the sunny one like Lena, this was something she was well-suited to do. Something she needed to do.
With nowhere else to go, Norah and her sisters had arrived in London a few months after their father’s death to meet their estranged grandfather, the Duke of Rothwood.
However, they had been less than welcomed. The duke had cut all ties with his only child, Lady Bethany, when she’d chosen to elope with David Wright. Unfortunately, their mother had died six years earlier, having never reconciled with her father.
It had taken Norah and her sisters months to convince the duke to finally lower his defensive walls and allow them to truly become part of his life. While Norah could use her grandfather’s name to convince the marquess to aid her, she preferred not to.
“The only thing I can offer is to make another appointment,” Mr. Stockton said with reluctance. “I will make certain his lordship is aware of it. Perhaps I could send a message to remind him of the meeting.”
The way the man’s brow puckered as he mentioned the latter suggested even that might not bring the marquess to the museum.
Norah considered her options. No purpose would be served in making another appointment. It would be a waste of her time. She could think of only one option. If the marquess wasn’t going to come to her, she would go to him. She chose to ignore the voice in the back of her mind that reminded her women didn’t pay calls on men. Especially unmarried ladies to unmarried men.
But this was a business matter, she told herself. Society’s rules didn’t necessarily apply.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Stockton. I will be in touch if I require further assistance.”
“You’re sure you
wouldn’t prefer to leave your items with me?” He eyed her reticule with what looked like longing. “I can promise to see them safely displayed.”
“No, thank you.” Norah forced a smile. “Good day.”
She stalked out of the office on the fourth floor of the building with her maid and a footman following. Her grandfather insisted both servants accompany her unless one of her sisters did.
Ella, her eldest sister, was busy planning her wedding and her new life as the Countess of Marbury. Of course, Ella continued to encourage Norah to find a husband as well. That had been the entire reason behind them coming to London.
But Norah wasn’t ready for marriage. She’d only started to enjoy her new life and wasn’t prepared for that to end. Not after seeing how narrow her mother’s world had been. And she had yet to meet a man who made her reconsider. The conversations she’d had with various gentlemen since their first ball nearly a year ago only confirmed her opinion. They either flirted and flattered outrageously or spoke of how important they were.
She had hinted to Ella that she wasn’t interested in marrying yet, though it had fallen on deaf ears. Was it so wrong to want to relish the taste of freedom she’d experienced thus far? London was far from perfect, but there was much to see and do here compared to Oak Island, where she’d been raised.
Lena, her younger sister, insisted she was done visiting museums for the time being, although she appreciated Norah’s efforts to see their father’s artifacts displayed. Ella did as well. While Norah valued their support, she wanted—needed—to be the one to do this for her father. To make a gesture to show how much she loved, supported, and believed in David Wright and his work. And she had.
It was just that life on the remote island hadn’t been easy. They’d lived an isolated existence that focused on her father’s efforts to the exclusion of all else. One that she had started to resent when their father died. If only she hadn’t chosen the morning of his death to quarrel with him—ironic given that she was considered even-tempered and the peacemaker of the family.
Guilt had her rolling her shoulders as they descended the stairs. The disagreement with her father was a secret she kept from her sisters. Had that argument contributed to his death? Had it made him careless or distracted and therefore caused the accident that had taken his life?
The worry made her desperate to find a way to honor her father and his work. It was the only way to make amends.
Norah glanced about the museum as they went, her frustration mounting. She’d been so certain this was the right place for the sort of exhibit she had in mind.
The Museum of Antiquities had been open for less than five years. It had a fine reputation, and she could see why. Each exhibit told a story, and that was exactly what she wanted for her father’s artifacts.
Not one exhibit spoke of pirate treasure, which would make her father’s exhibit special and unique rather than one of several. That was the reason she and her sisters hadn’t been there the previous year when they’d toured so many museums in search of their father’s missing journal.
The house had been the former residence of the late Marquess of Vanbridge, the uncle of the current marquess. Located on Parker’s Lane near Lincoln’s Inn Fields, its exterior was nondescript—a four-story townhouse of neoclassic architecture. The first two levels of the white stone building had arched windows and a narrow wrought-iron fence that lined the front. However, it was the interior that had one looking about with admiration.
The curving stairs of the residence looked as if they floated, lending an other-worldly atmosphere. Arched passageways echoed the exterior, and the golden-colored paint, along with an impressive amount of natural light, brought a rich look to the inside, making visitors feel as if they’d entered a special place—and they had.
Several rooms were set up to mimic an actual archaeological site. One held the 3,000-year-old sarcophagus of an Egyptian king along with many artifacts that had been found in the burial chamber. Another held Greek statues and décor that made one feel as if they had wandered into an ancient Grecian home. Yet another contained a plaster model of the Temple of Vesta in Italy.
Norah had been so fascinated by the museum that she’d already toured it twice, the second time with her sisters. She appreciated history, and by the look of the museum, she had to assume the Marquess of Vanbridge did as well, as he’d been the one to design the displays. That level of attention to detail and creativity was exactly what she wanted. Vanbridge honored the stories of the discovery of the relics as much as he did the items themselves, another reason Norah wanted to speak with him directly.
Unfortunately, he no longer spent much time there. In Norah’s opinion, his absence was beginning to be reflected in the rather dusty displays and numerous cobwebs. The director didn’t seem to bother with those issues. Was it any wonder she didn’t trust Mr. Stockton to see her artifacts shown in the proper manner?
Although the marquess was a member of the Royal Geological Society along with Marbury, he rarely attended meetings or social engagements. The Society focused on matters of exploration and sharing information among its members. He didn’t feel the need to bother with polite Society or anything that went along with it, according to Ella’s betrothed. The idea nearly made her shudder. How did he spend his time without friends and gatherings to occupy him?
Norah might value history but had no intention of immersing herself in it. Still, she had a certain curiosity about the man who had created the unique exhibits. And she was determined that today would be the day she satisfied it.
“Shall I advise the driver we’re returning home, miss?” James, the footman, asked after he assisted her and Dorothy inside the carriage.
“No. Please have him take us to the Marquess of Vanbridge’s residence.”
James paused with his hand on the door, watching her as if he hadn’t heard her correctly. “Miss?”
“I do believe it’s in Mayfair.”
James heaved a sigh as he shared a look with Dorothy. “Yes, miss. I believe you’re right.” He closed the door slowly, continuing to watch her as if hoping she’d change her mind.
Norah glanced out the window as the conveyance rolled forward. A tingle of nerves simmered inside her at the idea of going to the marquess’s home. She dearly hoped neither Ella nor her grandfather found out about the meeting.
This was only business, she reminded herself. Yet her nerves refused to settle.
*
Simon Webb, the Marquess of Vanbridge, turned the oddly shaped stone in his hand to better catch the light and make out the faint carvings softened by time. He copied the markings as precisely as he could onto the paper on his desk.
He muttered a curse as the skin on one of his sore knuckles split open again. Boxing this morning had been particularly brutal, but he had no one to blame except himself. The ache in his shoulders and arms was a welcome one. Especially now that his body was strengthening.
A punching bag was his only target at the moment, though his valet, Miles, had offered to serve as an opponent in addition to his teacher. Simon wanted to improve his skills and technique before he took on the former infantry soldier, as he had no doubt Miles would easily defeat him.
Simon didn’t need any more reminders in his life that he was less, especially when it came to sports and other physical activities. He liked to think the adult version of himself was much healthier than the younger one but didn’t care to test the theory.
The physical activity of boxing was supposed to improve his mental clarity and analytical abilities. To allow better concentration and focus. Damned if it didn’t seem to be working. He also had more energy, something he appreciated after being rather sickly in his youth with one ailment or another.
Simon had been third in line for the marquess title and never expected to inherit. Never wanted to. However, the death of his uncle and cousin nearly a decade ago had changed Simon’s path from studying to be a solicitor to suddenly inheriting a title.
His own mother and father had died in a carriage accident when he was seven. As an only child, he had been left hollow with grief and terribly alone. Perhaps that could be blamed for his frequent illnesses. He’d gone to live with an elderly aunt and uncle on his mother’s side, but they’d been ill-prepared to deal with a young boy and had returned him to Eton as quickly as possible. When Simon was twelve, they’d both succumbed to influenza, leaving him alone again.
