Page 1 of Tempted By the English Marquis
ChapterOne
September, 1816
Mowbray House, Berkeley Square, London
Gideon Kembal, Marquis of Holwell, took his coat from the downstairs footman and tucked it neatly under his arm. He was in much too much of a hurry to make his escape to bother with stopping and putting it on.
I need to get out of here before Mama corners me.
His parents were upstairs in the drawing room hosting some guests. Gideon couldn’t recall who their visitors were or where they were from. In truth, he hadn’t actually been paying that much attention when the Duchess of Mowbray made the announcement at breakfast earlier in the week. People were always coming and going from the Kembal family home.
Gideon’s brain had registered but a few of Lady Anne’s words. Some gentlemen and a young lady. The woman was beautiful and apparently accomplished. That was more than enough to set his nerves on edge.
In the eyes of thehaut ton, and by default also his mother, at five and twenty he was more than ripe for marriage. Any suitable female who happened to breathe the same air as him was therefore considered a likely candidate for the role of his future bride.
Not bloody likely. I will choose who I marry, thank you very much.
Once he was safely outside, Gideon paused at the top of the stoop. A sly grin sat on his lips. He had successfully eluded his mother.
His gaze took in the evening bustle of busy Berkeley Square. Carriages and people were a constant in this part of central London. Gideon loved it. He wouldn’t live anywhere else.
Slipping his coat on, he quickly checked the pockets. Both hands came up empty.
Deuce. Where is that card?
There should have been an invitation to a private party within one of the pockets. Panic crept into his blood as he checked the inner pockets, swearing under his breath when his searching fingers touched the lining.
A horrid realization dawned on him. “Oh, no. I took the card out to check what time the soiree kicked off. I must have left it upstairs!” he muttered.
He turned his gaze back toward the front door of Mowbray House. Just how fast could he dash inside, make it up to his bedroom, and retrieve the invitation? All without being caught by his mother.
Speed was not, however, his main problem. The duchess’s acute hearing was. The slightest hint of a footfall would have her stepping from the main drawing room and seeking out her eldest son.
But with no clue as to the exact address of the party, Gideon resigned himself to the perilous task. He would have to risk it and hope that his parents were too busy with their recent arrivals to bother with him.
Come on, lady luck. Smile upon me this evening.
He put a finger to his lips as the perplexed footman opened the front door once more and Gideon slipped inside. One step followed by another, he raced up the stairs. Upon reaching his bedroom, he slowly opened the door, doing his utmost not to make a sound. He scurried over to his dressing table and snatched up the card.
“Now to make a fast but stealthy escape.”
Once more out in the hallway, he quickly headed for the staircase. Freedom and a night of drunken frivolity beckoned. He had just put his front foot on the top step when the door of the drawing room at the end of the hall opened.
“Ah, Gideon, just who I was looking for. What a spot of luck. I thought I might have missed you.”
Damn. Damn. Damn.
Silently cursing his own stupidity, Gideon turned to face his mother, Lady Anne Kembal. If he had departed but a minute earlier, he would have gotten clean away. Now, there was nowhere for him to hide.
“Mama. I was just heading out; I’m late for a party. I shall see you at breakfast,” he said, making to head down the stairs.
“Oh. You can spare your mother a few minutes, can’t you? I mean, it would be terribly rude of you not to come and greet our guests. And I didn’t raise you to have poor manners, now, did I?” replied the duchess.
The expression on his mother’s face held more power than her words ever could. Only a foolish young man would try to flee from Lady Anne and her parental expectations.
“I am running a tad late, so would a quick hello suffice?” he offered. Gideon wasn’t above haggling. Or begging.
“Five minutes—ten at tops. Stay for one glass of wine and make our guests feel welcome. Augusta is already playing hostess with the young lady, so I promise it won’t be too taxing on you.”
