A Marquis to Marry (38 page)

Susannah thrilled to his touch.

The End

Dear Readers,

I hope you have enjoyed Race and Susannah’s story in
A Marquis to Marry
as much as I enjoyed writing it.

While doing research for another book, I came across a scrap of information about the Talbot pearls and knew I wanted to write a story that included the famous necklace. History tells us that it was five strands of perfectly matched pearls, with each strand measuring thirty-two inches in length.

Finding out what actually became of the pearls proved harder than I thought. I found very little written about them, and they weren’t found on any museum’s list. My information has led me to believe that the pearls were eventually pawned or sold by family members after Lord Talbot’s death.

All quotes from Lord Chesterfield at the start of each chapter are taken verbatim from his letters. However, throughout the book I attributed quotes to him he didn’t say. I do this for entertainment, not to give credit where it isn’t due.

I would like to thank organist extraordinaire Tommy Watts for help with the music terminology I used in this book and Susan Broadwater for help with researching the Talbot pearls.

If you missed the first book in The Rogues’ Dynasty,
A Duke to Die For
, please check your favorite local or online bookstore. And watch for the exciting story of Morgan and Arianna in
An Earl to Enchant
, which will be published by Sourcebooks in spring 2010.

I love to hear from readers. Please visit my website at ameliagrey.com or email me at [email protected]

Happy Reading,
Amelia Grey

T
HE
R
OGUES
’ D
YNASTY

A
Duke
TO
Die For

A
Marquis
TO
Marry

AN
Earl
TO
Enchant

Available from Sourcebooks Casablanca

From

AN
Earl
TO
Enchant

M
ORE DOUBT ABOUT HER STIRRED AROUND HIM.
C
OULD
what he was thinking be possible? “Aren’t you Miss Francine Goodbody?”

Her chin lifted defiantly as if an inner confidence surfaced. “Sir, I am not. I am Arianna Sweet, and I have never heard of anyone by the name of Saint.”

A stab of disappointment struck him and Morgan swore softly under his breath. Her assertion that she was not the courtesan he expected sobered him more than he liked. A derisive chuckle passed his lips. This was almost laughable. A beautiful, tempting young woman finally arrived at his door, but obviously not the one he was expecting. What were the chances of that happening? What rotten luck.

Spending his summer at Valleydale was not turning out to be one of his better ideas.

Morgan fought to quell his annoyance over the realization that this delectable young lady was not Miss Goodbody, and she would not be spending the night in his bed beneath him.

“Obviously I was expecting someone else. So tell me, what is it that brings you here on this rainy, late evening, Miss Sweet? If it was directions you wanted, I could have spoken to your driver.”

“I came here to speak to Lady Elder. I realize she is not receiving at this unbelievably late hour, but do you think she would mind if I waited until she’s available to see me?”

Morgan grunted another laugh. What madness was this woman up to? “Lady Elder is not here.”

She stared at him with guarded surprise.

“But she must be,” Miss Sweet challenged him. “This is Valleydale, is it not?”

“Yes, Miss Sweet, it is. You are here, but she is not.”

Her hand flew to her forehead in contemplation and Morgan thought he saw her fingers tremble. He saw vulnerability in her that he hadn’t seen before, and he was certain now she wasn’t acting.

She looked up at him with imploring eyes and said, “I came all this way to see her. Tell me where she is, and I shall go there.”

The throbbing in Morgan’s temples increased. Just who did this woman think she was? Unable to keep a hint of accusation out of his voice, he stepped closer to her and asked, “Are you issuing a demand to me, Miss Sweet?”

Morgan realized he’d spoken more sharply than he intended, but this was more than frustrating, it was maddening.

She seemed unruffled by his brusque behavior and remained steadfast. “No. Yes. Maybe it is a demand. You don’t understand. I must speak to her.”

Of Lady Elder’s three grandsons, Morgan was the level-headed one. He had always been rational, sensible, and clear-minded. He never did anything without thinking through the consequences and he never lost control. He was determined this intriguing young lady was not going to get the best of him.

She moistened her lips, giving them a little shine and color. Though she remained quiet, he could tell by her rigid stance and rapidly blinking eyes that she struggled to keep her composure. She lightly shook her head as if to clear her thoughts and to renew her strength. There was a determined edge to the set of her jaw and seriousness shimmered in her eyes that gave him a moment’s pause. But only a moment.

Another time, Morgan might have been more indulgent with this captivating lady standing before him, but she had picked the wrong evening to arrive at his door with her odd request to see his grandmother.

His head pounded and his stomach had begun to roil.

“I can tell you that it won’t be possible at all to see her, and I should know. I’m her grandson.”

Alarm flashed in her eyes. Her gaze swept down his body as she took in his attire. “Oh, my lord, or is it Your Grace?” She immediately curtsied. “I’m sorry I mistook you for one of Lady Elder’s staff. I know that she has three grandsons, an earl, a marquis, and a duke. Forgive me, but I don’t know which you are.”

Morgan glanced down at his clothing and silently cursed. Sometime during his long evening he had discarded his neckcloth and collar as well as his coat. She had no way of knowing he was the master of the house. It was no wonder she thought him a servant, and a sloppy one at that. Miss Sweet was nothing if not direct, he would give her that.

He cleared his throat and said, “I am the Earl of Morgandale, and Lady Elder’s oldest grandson.”

“My lord, do you mind if I wait for your grandmother to return? I really must—”

Morgan held up his hand to stop her from further discussion. For a moment, he thought he saw her body tremble.

Did she think him such a scoundrel that he wouldn’t offer her the hospitality of his house for the night before sending her on her way in the morning? That angered him. Given the lateness of the hour and the foul weather, he really had no choice but to offer her shelter for the evening.

Damnation, he wasn’t an ogre, but his patience was already on a short tether before she had arrived. And it was damned frustrating that he was immensely attracted to her, since by all accounts she was not the woman he was expecting to share his bed tonight.

“You will be waiting a long time, Miss Sweet,” he said grimly. “My grandmother died over a year ago.”

A soft anguished gasp fluttered past her lips. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “That can’t be.”

“I’m afraid it is,” he said, wondering why she was taking the news of his grandmother’s death so hard.

Morgan watched the last bit of color drain from her beautiful face. Her green eyes blinked rapidly and then slowly.

“Miss Sweet?”

But she didn’t respond.

Her head tilted back as her eyes fluttered closed, and despite a long night of drinking, he leaped forward just in time and somehow managed to catch her as her body collapsed and she fainted into his arms.

About the Author

Amelia Grey
grew up in a small town in the Florida Panhandle. She has been happily married to her high school sweetheart for more than twenty-five years.

Amelia has won the Booksellers Best Award and Aspen Gold Award for writing as Amelia Grey. Writing as Gloria Dale Skinner, she has won the coveted Romantic Times Award for Love and Laughter, the Maggie Award, and the Affaire de Coeur Award. Her books have been sold in many countries in Europe, in Russia, and in China, and they have also been featured in Doubleday and Rhapsody Book Clubs.

Amelia loves flowers, candlelight, sweet smiles, gentle laughter, and sunshine.