To Love a Marquis Read online

  Table of Contents

  TO LOVE A MARQUIS

  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

  Epilogue

  TO LOVE A MARQUIS

  Reformed Rake Series: Book I

  JENN LANGSTON

  SOUL MATE PUBLISHING

  New York

  TO LOVE A MARQUIS

  Copyright©2018

  JENN LANGSTON

  Cover Design by Rae Monet, Inc.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Published in the United States of America by

  Soul Mate Publishing

  P.O. Box 24

  Macedon, New York, 14502

  ISBN: 978-1-68291-719-0

  www.SoulMatePublishing.com

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  BY JENN LANGSTON

  THE PERFECT SERIES

  His Perfect Bride

  His Perfect Game

  His Perfect Lady

  PERFECT SERIES COMPANIONS

  Catching the Baron

  Winning The Duke

  Redeeming The Earl

  TOUCHED BY FIRE SERIES

  Embracing The Knight

  Enslaving The Day

  Ensnaring Lord Starsen

  Enchanting The Duke Of Demoon

  REFORMED RAKE SERIES

  To Love A Marquis

  FATHERS, MOTHERS, AND GUARDIANS, do you have unwed children or charges that need to stand apart in the marriage mart? Or, perhaps you have a bad habit you wish to break or a skill you wish to master? Here at Lady Constance’s House of Reform we specialize in turning pesky problems into vague memories. We offer a range of services that are tailored to your specific needs.

  Those who suffer from shyness, lack of social graces, or problematic dancing skills have no reason to fear after seeking our assistance. Our lessons promote confidence when dealing with the opposite gender. Our individualized plans will put anyone at ease.

  In addition, we offer schooling in a range of languages. If you are looking to learn Latin, French, Spanish or Italian, we are your best option. We will cater to your needs and set up tutoring that will fit with your lifestyle.

  Don’t delay! Help is available, now!

  For employment opportunities, bring your direct inquiries to the head mistress on Cannon Street. We are seeking strong, capable women.

  Chapter 1

  Miranda Jayne Whittier clutched the worn paper to her breast. This small advertisement was to be her salvation.

  Dashing through the rain, she tried to keep her shivering to a minimum in order to keep from damaging the delicate newssheet. She had taken the advertisement from the inn where she had spent the last of her pin money on a meal. It had seemed a sign. That it was left there for her. Biting her lip, she pressed forward, concentrating on her purpose and nothing else.

  As she hurried up the steps and knocked on the solid wood door, relief and determination flooded her. She had survived this far, and she intended to succeed in her mission. If she was turned away, there was nowhere else for her to go.

  “Who is it?” a sleepy, female voice called from within.

  “Miss Miranda . . . Jayne.” She gave her middle name through her chattering teeth. “I’m here about your advertisement.”

  The door swung open and two pairs of curious eyes assessed her. Besides said eyes, nothing else was similar about the women. One was tall with dark hair and a stern look on her face, whereas the other was a petite blonde with a sweet cherub face.

  “Are you aware of the time? We typically don’t take guests or clients at this late hour.” The tall woman lifted a haughty eyebrow.

  “I apologize about the time, but my situation is urgent.” Miranda blinked rapidly, forcing her cursed tears away. She would pose a strong front, regardless of the ugly head of defeat worming its way through her body. They wouldn’t turn her out in the rain, would they?

  “Which part of the advertisement are you here for?” Her stern look didn’t change.

  “Constance, really? The poor dear looks like a drowned mouse. Surely we can invite her in before interrogating her.” The small blonde grabbed Miranda’s elbow and ushered her inside. “Come with me. There is a nice fire in the drawing room.”

  “Thank you,” Miranda whispered, not trusting her voice at present.

  As she followed the woman into the drawing room, the warmth welcomed her. The room was small, much smaller than anything she’d seen before, however, the blazing fire filled the space and brought her comfort. She’d made it this far, so she held onto the hope she would secure a position.

  “Please take a seat,” the woman said as she pulled a straight-backed chair closer to the wonderful heat. “I’m Lady Regina Serra, but you can call me Regina. And, that was Constance you met earlier.”

  “Thank you for your kindness.” Miranda swallowed, stemming the emotions clogging her throat. Since she’d run away from her father’s country estate and fled to London, she hadn’t received as much as a kind word without having paid for it.

  “Don’t mention it, dear.” Regina patted her hand.

  Constance handed her a towel. “So, you are here about the ad?”

  After dabbing at the moisture on her face, Miranda straightened her back and faced the women. “Yes. I am seeking employment.”

  The words stuck in her throat. The thought that she—daughter to Baron Aberdeen—would be forced to such lengths would have been laughable a short while ago. It was odd how swiftly one’s life could change.

  A smile twisted the woman’s face. “I suspected as much, so what are your skills?”

  “I am strong and capable, exactly like your ad requested. I can dance. Although I have never attended a ball, I have been instructed.”

  From the look on Constance’s face, she was not impressed. “What about languages? Or, the pianoforte? Do you have any experience teaching?”

  Heat crawled up Miranda’s neck. “I’m afraid my patience for stationary pursuits is limited.”

  “I’m sorry to say it, but—”

  “Constance,” Regina broke in. “It’s rather late. Do you suppose we could reserve our decision until morning? Miss Jayne looks exhausted. And, after the day you and I have endured with Audrey leaving, I suspect we can both benefit from sleep as well.”

  Miranda held her breath as the woman’s eyes bored into her. If Constance turned her away, Miranda would be forced to return home. She repressed a shudder. Likely, her stepmother would severely punish her for running away. And, she already knew her father wouldn’t step in. She would then be turned over to Lord Melbourne. No. She couldn’t let that happen.

  Straightening her spine, Miranda called upon the last of her strength. “I may not be the most qualified candidate to enter these doors, but if you give me a chance you will find I’m hard-working and dedicated. I learn quickly, and I will complete any task without as much as one word of complaint.”

  “Well, I believe Regina is correct. We can speak of this again in the morning.” Constance cast a glance at the other woman.

  “Do you have a place to stay?” Regina ignored the glare from Constance.

  Biting her lip to keep it from trembling, Miranda shook her head. The food, lodging, and hackney’s to get to this point had expended her funds. She could go no further.

  Regina stood and when Miranda followed, the woman linked her arm with Miranda’s and they left a silent Constance in the drawing room. “Don’t worry. You may stay here tonight. We can settle everything tomorrow.”

  Feeling the need to explain herself, or rather her situation, Miranda took a calming breath. “Thank you for this. I truly won’t let you down. I’m here because—”

  Regina lifted her hand and shook her head. “There is no need to tell me about your past, unless you simply have a need to unburden yourself. In these walls, we don’t judge. We all h
ave our stories, but it doesn’t matter how you got here.”

  The tension in her body eased, and Miranda smiled. Coming across that advertisement had been the best thing that had happened to her since her father had married the horrid Lady Olivia, a woman very nearly her own age.

  If she could remain hidden here in London, her father or stepmother couldn’t touch her. She would be spared from marrying a man she’d never met and who had a reputation one couldn’t forget. For the first time in a fortnight, uncontrollable hope burst in her chest. She would do this. She would survive on her own. She would be free.

  ~ ~ ~

  Anson Greenleaf, Marquis of Melbourne, crumbled the paper in his hand as his carriage lurched forward. The simple matter of marriage was turning out to be a damned inconvenience. Saving himself the hassle of conventional means had seemed to be a brilliant idea not a week ago, but he hadn’t expected this to be just as irritating. Baron Aberdeen had been happy to relieve him of his funds with the assurance of an amiable bride. However, this was far from his definition of the word.

  When the carriage stopped, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Considering the lady had run at the first thought of marrying him, he didn’t imagine his presence would be well received. He would have to tread warily if he wanted to return home to the country anytime soon.

  After knocking on the nondescript door of the fashionable London townhouse, he reached into his pocket for his calling card. As soon as his hand touched the stiff paper, he froze. He couldn’t exactly show up as the Marquis of Melbourne.

  Before he could retreat to think on his new circumstances, the door opened revealing a young maid. She didn’t appear surprised at the sight of a man standing at their door. He frowned. The business of the woman admitting a man into the house, unless it was a betrothed, was dangerous. He didn’t like the idea of his intended in such a place.

  “Where’s the butler?” he demanded without preamble.

  “He’s been laid out sick this past week, my lord,” she responded with her eyes trained on his boots. Good. At least she didn’t appear comfortable with the situation either.

  “Is there no other man to remain at this post in his absence?”

  Red colored her face as she moved a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Is there something I may help you with, my lord?”

  He cleared his throat. He needed to calm his temper. The situation of these women was not his concern. His agitation was likely caused from his trek across the countryside to claim what was rightfully his property.

  “I wish to see the proprietor of this establishment.”

  “Of course.” The girl led the way to an overly small drawing room, then faced him. “May I ask who has come to call upon her?”

  There it was again. His name. Although he wasn’t in the habit of lying, he couldn’t exactly tell the truth either. Miss Whittier didn’t know his face, but he was certain she knew his name.

  “Viscount Harken.” A smile spread his lips as he used one of his lesser, more obscure titles. He imagined there weren’t many in London who would know his connection to the name. Besides, there would be enough chatter about the Marquis of Melbourne returning for any notice to be on an unknown viscount.

  Minutes later, he was still applauding his genius when a tall, slender woman with a stern expression entered the room. She appeared to be close in age to his twenty-five years, and he wondered why a lady at such a young age would be dealing in business. Taking a quick stock of her attributes, he imagined marriage could still be an option for her. After all, most ladies desired a husband.

  “Lord Harken, I am Lady Constance. How may I be of service to you?”

  Appreciating her direct inquiry, Anson inclined his head. “Thank you for seeing me, my lady. Would you be agreeable to answering a few questions before I state my requirements?”

  “Certainly. Let’s take a seat to discuss your concerns.” She moved farther into the room, then stopped. “Can I offer you some tea?”

  “No. Thank you.” He shook his head, resisting the urge to show his distaste. No matter how many times he tried the vile substance, he could never see the appeal. It was just as well that he didn’t live in London.

  “Very well.” She settled her slender frame into an uncomfortable looking chair, so he chose the one opposite her. “You may begin as soon as you are ready.”

  “My questions are primarily about your staff. Do you require references, or is it possible for someone with little experience to obtain a position here?”

  The lady pinched her lips tight. Although he hadn’t meant to insult her, it was imperative that he ascertain if the man he’d hired had been correct that Miss Whittier had entered this establishment two days prior.

  “I understand your concern in that regard, however, I can assure you that we don’t hire anyone who is incapable of performing the duties. And, if you are dissatisfied for any reason, we would be happy to determine if we have another instructor suitable for your needs.”

  “Good, good.” He nodded, hoping to keep up the façade of caring, while trying to determine how to extract the correct information. “Now, if I were to secure your services, I would prefer to work with someone new. Inexperienced, if you will.”

  Her mouth fell open. “Might I ask why, my lord?”

  Taking a deep breath, he desperately thought of a good answer for her. “In truth, this is a very new experience for me. I’m unaccustomed to asking for assistance, especially for something of this nature. I believe if I could go through this process with someone who is learning, just as I am, it would make matters easier.”

  A smile transformed her harsh expression. “I see, and I can’t fault your logic. Now, would you care to tell me which of our services you are seeking?”

  “I’m searching for my wife,” he admitted. “I have been assured you will be able to help me locate one.”

  She nodded, but her brow furrowed. “You heard correctly. Our success rate is quite high. We begin by assisting you in your interactions with other ladies. Once you have a better handle on that, we can move on to conversations and dancing. First, tell me exactly which area you feel needs the most attention.”

  Discomforted with the idea of making up a failing within himself, he crossed his arms. “That is a conversation I would prefer to have with the instructor assigned to me.”

  “That is not possible.” Lady Constance gave a slight wave of her hand, as if brushing off his request. “Besides, with your title I’d imagine you can have a number of ladies vying for your attention. That means you need something specific from us. The more information you can provide me, the better chance I have a finding someone who would be perfectly suited for your needs.”

  “Then, I can be of some assistance there.” He leaned back in his chair. “She definitely must have brown hair. A chestnut color with unruly waves. And, she should be of a medium-height.”

  The lady stood so abruptly, Anson’s jaw nearly fell.

  “Lord Harken, this is not a brothel. Our ladies are—”

  “You misunderstand.” He cleared his throat as he, too, stood. “It’s an apt description of my mother. I find it easier to take direction from someone who resembles her.”

  It wasn’t exactly a lie, but not exactly truth either. However, in this instance, the end would justify the means. After all, Lord Aberdeen had agreed to allow Anson to collect his absentee daughter by any means necessary. Anson agreed to pay a small fortune for the lady, and he refused to walk away empty-handed.

  It was approaching a year that he’d been in mourning, but it was past time he began to look to the future again. Taking his pleasure in a varied number of women worked to dull memories, but it was no help if one wanted to procure an heir. That small matter could only be obtained by a wife.

  “I see.” Lady Constance slowly reclaimed her seat, and he followed suit. “Well, you seem to have quite a few requirements. I’m not sure if we have a perfect match for you.”