My American Marquess Read online

  Few gentlemen, no matter how impoverished, were desperate enough to wed their daughters to the so-called "Monster of Montclef."

  Before he had returned to England, Daniel had done a great deal of research about his family, in particular his father, based on the stories his mother had told him over the years. Daniel was determined to be everything his father was not upon his return to his homeland. Therefore, it had pleased him to learn that his mother had, in fact, raised him to be the perfect gentleman - and everything his father was not. To this day, Daniel was amazed at how she had done such a thorough job of raising a peer from across an ocean.

  It also amazed him how his mother had managed to stay hidden all of those years. It was a mystery to Daniel even now, but somehow she had managed to keep them all hidden until her dying day and beyond. Whoever had been helping her had made very certain to cover their tracks so well that not even Bow Street Runners had been able to assist Daniel in his search for the truth all these years later. It also stood to reason that the person in question had to be both wealthy and powerful since there were few men willing to tangle with the Monster of Montclef. The person who had offered assistance to Althea Weston had been a brave soul, indeed.

  He simply wished he knew who the man was so that he might thank him some day.

  Daniel had, of course, long suspected that his mother had help staying hidden from both her brutal husband and her equally horrid mother in law. For someone clearly knew where the little family was hiding because his father's solicitor had known where to find Daniel the previous spring after his father passed away. Someone had also known where to send funds when they were required, as well. After all, upon his mother's death, Daniel had come to learn that someone had left him the beginnings of an enormous fortune. And, according to rather vague bank records, that someone lived in England.

  And therein lie the crux of Daniel's other problem and the only reason he tolerated his grandmother's badgering presence in his life until he could uncover the truth of his time in America and make certain that Pearl was safe from the whispers that followed her wherever she went.

  For Pearl was different. She was not like these milk and water English misses. She spoke multiple languages and had run a business empire on her own. She was brash and occasionally loud. She was also headstrong and not at all like the cowering delicate feminine flowers that dotted the ballrooms of London. She had a different accent and different ideas. In short, she was not English.

  And now, rumors had begun to swirl that she wasn't really the daughter of George Weston after all.

  There was a basis for the rumor, unfortunately. Someone knew where Althea Weston and her children had gone all of those years ago, and rumor had it that the someone who had helped them all hide was Pearl's real father. The mystery man hadn't really been Pearl's father, of course. The rumor was rubbish. Daniel and his sister had the exact same parentage.

  After all, there was no question that Daniel was the very image of his father, easily proven by the family portrait that hung in the gallery at Montclef. However his sister Pearl favored their mother and possessed her exotic Italian coloring. Everyone in Society knew that Althea Weston was olive skinned and had glossy dark hair. Just as Pearl did. However where Althea's eyes had been green, Pearl's were the same deep brown that Daniel's were. They shared their father's eyes. Weston eyes. It was obvious to anyone. Well, anyone that had no interest in spreading vicious gossip, that was.

  From the moment Althea had fled England's shores, there had been whispered rumors - likely started either by Daniel's father or his grandmother - that Pearl was not the previous Lord Lansdale's child. That, in fact, Pearl was a bastard born on the wrong side of the blanket and that her real father had helped them all escape to America. Not to mention helped to keep them all well out of the reach of Lord George Weston and his scheming mother who would kill the both of them if infidelity was proven.

  Daniel knew those rumors were a lot of nonsense, as did most people if they really stopped to think about the situation. Especially when one compared Pearl to the portrait done of their mother on her wedding day. They were practically twins, save for the eyes. However fear of Wilhelmina Weston was a powerful thing and when she had all but declared Pearl a bastard less than a week after her arrival back in England, no one dared speak against her, whether they knew the truth or not. After all, Lady Althea had been with child when she left and no one had ever gotten close enough to even kiss her hand let alone bed her without her bastard of a husband lurking about. Therefore, it was all but impossible for anyone other than George Weston to be Pearl's father.

  There was a way to prove the truth of course, or there had been. There had been a parish register back in Baltimore that had recorded Pearl's birth a little over a month after Lady Lansdale had arrived in Baltimore. That would also prove that Pearl was conceived during the time that the previous Lord Lansdale had locked his wife away in a Scottish castle with no servants, and just himself for companionship. It was not firm proof, but it would be enough to put the rumors to rest - if only the register hadn't been destroyed in a fire a few years ago.

  Now, no one could prove that Pearl was really the daughter of the former marquess. Well, save for Grandmother Weston who was more likely to strip naked in Hyde Park than save the reputation of her only granddaughter. So Daniel did his best to fend off the rumors about Pearl's birth as best he could.

  Yet rumors, especially nasty ones, had a way of sticking, and unfortunately, the only person who had the power to repair Pearl's sullied reputation was their grandmother. And the old crone swore she would. She had promised that she would. Eventually. But only after Daniel did what she believed was his duty and took a proper wife of impeccable breeding, taste, manners, and bloodlines in order to secure the future of the marquisate.

  But none of that was important at present. What was important to Daniel was placating his grandmother and her notoriously fierce temper before she did something foolish. Like lock Daniel in this bloody conservatory with a chit she deemed the perfect bride for him.

  "What you do or do not desire is of little consequence to me," the old crone glared at him. Though given that she was wearing a ridiculous golden turban topped with monstrous, green-hued ostrich feathers, there was something lost in the effect - at least on him. Then again, Daniel did not intimidate easily. "Marriage is the price of your sister's restored reputation. You know this. One word from me and she will be cast out from Society. You? I cannot touch in that fashion as you were born here. But her? She can be cut and quite easily with a single word from me. True or not, it matters little so long as I get what I desire. I have no real use for her. But you? You are the future and I wish to shape it as I see fit."

  Daniel wanted to rage against this woman. He could even strike out at her if she were male. However he could not do anything more than glower in silent rage, for more than anything, Pearl deserved to be happy. She deserved to be able to walk through London without enduring the jeers and whispers, walk into balls and parties without being given the cut direct. After all of the ways Daniel had failed his sister over the years, the least he could do for her in return was this.

  If their grandmother had her cast out of Society, Pearl would endure. Daniel knew that. Hell, she might even thrive. She was far stronger than he was, after all. That did not make it right, however.

  "I have said before that I must agree on the chit you select for me." Daniel ground out the words through clenched teeth. "I refuse to shackle myself to a featherbrained nitwit." He would give in on much that his grandmother demanded, but not on that point.

  That seemed to rile the old woman and she whacked angrily at some poor, defenseless flowers with her cane. Daniel doubted that Hallstone would be happy about the damage as the blossoms looked both extremely fragile and completely exotic. They were probably also rather expensive. Well, he would write the man a bank note to cover the damage. Provided he managed to escape this hell himself.

  "As if I would
doom the future of the marquisate in that way! Why do you think I go to these lengths? For my health?" Wilhelmina Weston smacked her cane on the floor, crushing a delicate blossom that had fallen from one of the unfortunate flowers into a messy pulp. "If it were up to me, I would let you both rot in your own poison! I would not intervene whenever you are chasing a pretty bit of skirt, including the string of companions you hire for Pearl!"

  Daniel flushed a bit at that accusation. It had been a very long time since he had been with a woman. He couldn't help it if sometimes his cock led his head. "I never..."

  He should not have expected his grandmother to allow him to finish. Instead, she sniffed indignantly again in that annoying way she had and continued on as if he had not even spoken. "However, I owe it to my son to see the line continue and correct his mistake in choosing a bride. He sullied the bloodline by mating with your mother. I refuse to allow you to make the same bad choices." Then she drew herself up straighter. "That is why I have selected Lady Charlotte Cleary as your intended. She is impeccable in every way and is obviously ready to marry."

  Daniel wanted to point out that it was obvious to all and sundry that Lady Charlotte was ready to be married - but not to him. She was in love with Lord Francis Deaver, Viscount Underhill. The only thing preventing that particular union was her father, Lord Waverly. For some reason, the man detested Underhill, though no one knew why. Daniel also wished to point out that, despite his perceived golden perfection, Lady Charlotte was more likely to flee a wedding to him than she was to attend it as his intended bride. However he did not do that either.

  He had not become a wealthy man by acting rashly and showing all of his cards at once. No, Daniel had amassed his fortune by being cautious and careful and giving his opponent just enough confidence so they believed they were in charge of a situation before he yanked the proverbial rug out from beneath them. Well, to be fair, Pearl was the one who did most of the yanking, as she was the more ruthless one between them. However Daniel had learned a thing or two from her over the years. When he was sober, that was, which was a great deal of the time, really.

  His grandmother might be highly skilled in getting her way, but Daniel had learned a thing or two from his business-minded sister that could be applied to this particular situation. Nor was he weak-willed. He had his foibles, but he was stronger than many people realized.

  For now, though, the dowager assumed she had the upper hand and Daniel would allow her to continue to believe that. At least until he came up with a way out of this maddening scheme or found someone in Baltimore who might verify the information in the destroyed parish register. Whatever came first. So for now, it was best to simply bide his time and wait. Well, that's what Pearl would have done anyway.

  "Then by all means, lead on Grandmother," Daniel scoffed with a sarcastic smile. "Introduce me to this paragon of womanhood so that I might throw myself upon her tender mercies and beg for her hand in marriage."

  When the old woman didn't immediately reply, he knew he had bested her - for now. And shown her - just a little - that he was not a man who would do as commanded easily. It was a small showing of his hand, but not all. For now, that was enough.

  By the time they reached the ballroom, Daniel was beginning to enjoy himself a bit. His fingers itched to reach for a glass of claret from a passing footman's tray but he needed to keep his wits about him tonight. Therefore, no indulging. At least not yet. However the sour expression on his grandmother's face more than made up for the fact that he could not imbibe.

  He also needed to do his best to preserve the illusion he had created when he first arrived in England. A year ago, Daniel had worked very hard to ensure that he was viewed as perfection incarnate. He had done his best to make certain that both he and Pearl were paragons of what every titled English lord and lady should be, so that they would be more easily accepted into the Ton. Unfortunately, Pearl's ruse had not lasted long and now no one believed that she was a breathless, feather-brained innocent chit with no ideas of opinions of her own. That was unfortunate, but it could not be helped. Then again, that was Pearl.

  Daniel, however, was still viewed as the perfect gentlemen, a man to be admired and copied whenever possible. Nor was that really a lie. Part of him could be golden elegance personified when he wished to be. However there were darker, less perfect parts of him that no one saw, save for his sister. He didn't want people to see the truth of him, for he doubted they would like him very much if they knew who he truly was beneath the glittering surface. Nor could he risk allowing them to see the truth, at least not before he had dealt with his grandmother and fully secured his place in Society, along with a place for his sister.

  If the mask of perfection fell away too soon, the ugly side of his nature would be exposed and Daniel doubted that many titled lords would be eager to throw their unwed daughters in his direction. He could not risk that. Not yet, when all of this was still so new. After all, he had only been in England for a little more than a year. Maybe later, when he was settled and had an heir. Or perhaps never. Maybe no one ever needed to know the truth about the man Lord Daniel Weston really was inside.

  After all, it wasn't as if he liked that part of himself. He didn't. He would much rather be the golden god he often pretended to be in public. However he could not ignore the darker side of his nature either. He had learned long ago that to do so was to risk those around him, especially those that he loved. He had made such a foolish choice once. He would never do so again. Especially not now when his grandmother still held some shred of power over him.

  And if no one ever learned the truth? Well, then so much the better.

  Daniel was quickly pulled from his maudlin thoughts by the presence of a lady his grandmother all but thrust into his arms. The woman stumbled a bit when the old crone gave her a slight shove in Daniel's direction, and without thinking, he caught her by the elbow to steady her. The fact that she grimaced when he touched her was far from a good sign, but his grandmother did not seem to notice anything amiss.

  "My lord," the old woman fairly cackled, "I would like to introduce you to Lady Hester Cleary, the Viscountess Waverly, and her daughter, Lady Charlotte. Ladies, I would like to present my grandson, Lord Daniel Weston, the Marquess of Lansdale."

  Daniel was quick to note that Lady Waverly had stepped back when the dowager all but pushed her daughter straight into his arms. No, this was not a good sign at all. Lady Waverly also looked just as grim as his grandmother, which probably meant the two of them believed this match to be a good idea. Lord save him from interfering females.

  Still, he took the opportunity to study the young lady now standing before him with clasped hands and a somber expression. To Daniel's mind, Lady Charlotte looked less than impressed with him, but she bobbed a polite curtsey after he made his bows to both her and her mother.

  "Lord Lansdale. It is a pleasure." Except that her eyes told a far different story from the words her lips spoke. She was anything but pleased by this introduction.

  Daniel tilted his head in her direction. "Lady Charlotte. I confess that I have seen you at other entertainments, but have never had the pleasure of an introduction. I did not go out much in Society last Season as I was attending to a great many estate details that could not wait." He pinned his grandmother with a stern glare that neither Charlotte nor her mother missed. "It seems that I have been more than a little remiss in becoming acquainted with my fellow members of the peerage."

  The statement was vague enough that no insult was implied but it was also rather ambiguous, leaving the three women to wonder if he was truly pleased to be in their company or not. For the record, he was not.

  "I understand that you have only just returned to England from America." That came from Lady Charlotte whose vivid violet eyes hinted at far more intelligence than he had originally given her credit for possessing. Perhaps she would not be so bad as a wife after all, even though he felt no attraction toward her at all. Shame that. If he had to marry her, that w
as. He still had no plans to do that.

  Daniel nodded in a rather vague but agreeable way, not wishing to seem overly interested. "I spent my formative years in Baltimore, Maryland, yes. It was only when my father passed away that I returned to England to fulfill my duty." There was no sense mincing words for, if given a choice, he would have happily remained back in Maryland running his business there and never again setting foot on English soil. He had little doubt Pearl would have been just as happy to do so as well. Life in England was not agreeing with her in the least. Which was why he was in this situation to begin with. At least partly.

  "It was hardly a duty," his grandmother all but snapped as she mashed her cane to the floor again. "Why I..."

  Unwilling to allow his grandmother to continue her tirade, Daniel bowed to Lady Charlotte and calmly offered her his hand. "I believe the orchestra is about to play a quadrille, my lady. If your dance card is not otherwise full, I would be pleased if you would accompany me to the dance floor." It bothered him a little how easily he slipped into the façade of the "Golden God of the Ton," a term he despised but one that seemed to be popular with the gossips.

  "Thank you, my lord. I would be delighted." Lady Charlotte offered him her hand in return, but her words lacked true emotion. Daniel suspected that, like him, she was simply going through the motions.

  Silently he led her through the crushing crowd and helped her take her place among the other dancers.

  "You don't really wish to dance with me, do you?" he asked her once they were in position and waiting for the dance to begin.

  He wasn't surprised when a sly smile crept over her face. "Forgive me, my lord, but no, I really do not wish to be here at all. However, my mother is insisting that I wed before the end of the Season and is pushing me at any eligible gentleman she sees." She lowered her lashes, hiding those expressive eyes from his sight. "Save for the man I truly desire, of course."