The Forgotten Marquess Page 2

  “Then you’d be dead as well,” Sophia argued.

  Dead! He hated that word and had yet been able to admit that Elaina was indeed dead. Maybe it was because there was no body, even though it would have been impossible to have survived being swept over the side of a ship. In his heart, she was still alive and lost somewhere, despite evidence to the contrary.

  “You don’t know that I may have perished. Instead, I could have saved her. The children survived, the maids survived, and I should have been there to save my wife.”

  “Tristan,” Sophia reached across the carriage and took his hand. “You must quit punishing yourself.”

  “I should have protected her.”

  “Is that why you live like a hermit in Cornwall?” Sophia blew out. “Is it to punish yourself because I know Harrison will never forgive himself?”

  “It’s not Harrison’s fault,” Tristan insisted. His brother didn’t know that Tristan had forbidden the trip and had assumed that when Elaina and the children arrived at the docks with the maids that Tristan had no objection. Harrison had never forgiven himself for not inquiring and assuming all was well. Worse, Harrison couldn’t forgive himself for not being able to save Elaina. He’d watched as she’d made certain the children were put into a lifeboat and had tried to get to her, to make sure she got down safely as well, when a wave rose and took Elaina into the murky darkness.

  “I’m not a hermit. I remain home because my children need me.”

  Sophia took a deep breath and sat back. “You might consider marrying again.”

  He narrowed his eyes on her. It was one topic he’d grown weary of. “You aren’t suggesting one of your friends.”

  Sophia’s eyes widened. “Goodness no. They are firmly on the shelf, but it has been three years since Elaina disappeared.”

  “Three years, two months and thirteen days.” The day his children arrived on his doorstep with their nursery maid and Elaina’s maid, but without Elaina, would be forever burned in his memory. Her holiday had only been meant to last for a month. Only the children returned as scheduled.

  Sophia’s eyes dulled sympathy. “What of the children?” she asked quietly.

  “I have an heir and a daughter.” Surely, she wasn’t suggesting he needed more.

  “They need a mother.”

  Leave it to Sophia to get to the heart of the matter. Tristan was well aware that his children were motherless.

  “Lady Jillian Simpson is quite taken with you,” Sophia observed with a twinkle in her eye.

  “Lady Simpson is a child,” Tristan argued. A very attractive package with blonde hair and blue eyes. One he did enjoy spending time with, but not a lady he wished to make his wife.

  “She is twenty,” Sophia pointed out.

  “She’s a flirtation,” Tristan argued.

  “A flirtation that the ton has taken note of.”

  “We’ve not even been in London a full month. There is nothing to take note of.” This was one of the many reasons he hated Society. Nobody could mind their own business.

  “She’s set her cap for you, so I’d suggest that if you don’t wish to make an offer, you cease dancing with her.”

  Tristan slouched back against the squabs as the carriage rumbled down the road. He hated to admit it, but Sophia was right. He did not want to marry Lady Jillian. While he enjoyed her company, he did not appreciate how she’d recently tried to manipulate him into furthering their acquaintance.

  He frowned. “I don’t understand why she’d set her cap for me. Her father is a duke, and she could marry anyone she wished.”

  “You are a Marquess,” Sophia reminded him.

  “Don’t remind me,” Tristan groaned. “When can we finally leave London? I believe I’ve had quite enough.”

  “I prefer we stay a bit longer.” A mischievous smile came to her lips. “With any luck, you might find a lady you wish to marry.”

  Tristan glowered at his sister. “I already have a wife!”

  Sophia raised a challenging eyebrow but at least she didn’t correct him by saying he had a wife. It didn’t matter if Elaina was lost to him. He was not yet ready to remarry and not certain he ever would be.

  The carriage came to a halt and with a sigh, Tristan pulled himself from the seat and followed his sister and Scala into the Weston townhouse and stopped at the entry to the ballroom.

  “Each ball is more crowded than the last,” Tristan complained to Sophia.

  “It’s not so bad,” she insisted.

  “Bad enough and it’s the last one I plan on attending.” His decision had been made. He wanted to go home and that’s exactly what he intended to do. “I leave tomorrow, but for now, I’m going outside for some fresh air.”

  “You have not even spoken with anyone,” she chastised. “Oh look, there are Eliza and Rosemary now.” Sophia waved. “Goodness. Olivia and Victoria are with them.”

  “Go on and enjoy. I’ll find a place to hide until you are ready to leave.” As if the three together wasn’t bad enough, the added addition of the Westbrook twins meant that his sister would be here for the duration of the evening and it was unlikely she’d even dance.

  With that, Tristan stalked away from his sister before she could argue with him further and made his way through a side door leading out into the gardens. Remaining in London had been a waste of time. The only reason to be here was if one was seeking a wife, which he was not. Sophia would like him to marry again. In fact, she’d like to see all her brothers marry, but Tristan had no intention of accommodating her.

  After inhaling the cool air and filling his lungs, Tristan walked further into the darkness and away from the eyes of the ton. He had promised Sophia he’d attend this evening, but he hadn’t promised to remain in the ballroom. He might just spend the rest of the night out here.

  “Lord Hopkins,” a voice called.

  Bloody hell, couldn’t he be left alone for a few moments?

  “Are you out here?”

  Blast! He’d hoped to avoid Lady Jillian tonight. His sister had been correct, if he didn’t end the flirtation now then Lady Jillian and Society would expect him to proclaim an attachment.

  Why couldn’t the two of them have just enjoyed the Season and each other’s company, without everyone assuming a marriage would follow? When he attended assemblies in Cornwall, nobody expected him to offer for any of the young ladies he danced with. They knew he had no intention of seeking another bride.

  “There you are,” she announced. “I knew I recognized the rose waistcoat.”

  Blast! That was the last time he’d ever let Sophia influence his valet when it came to Tristan’s wardrobe. When one wished to hide in the dark, they shouldn’t wear bright pastel colors.

  “What is wrong?” Her blue eyes blinked up at him in concern.

  Lady Jillian wasn’t a bad sort. He just didn’t wish to be married to her. “I’ll be returning to Cornwall tomorrow.”

  Her eyes widened in surprised. If he wasn’t mistaken, there was a bit of panic as well.

  “I tire of London and wish to return to my estate and my children.”

  Before he knew what she was about, Lady Jillian went up on her toes, grasped his face and pulled him forward. The force, for one so slight, was surprising and Tristan lost his balance, toppling forward. His arm went about her waist to keep her, and himself, from falling, as her lips met his.

  He tried to pull back, but she had a lock on the back of his head, drawing down until he was quite certain they’d end up on the ground if he didn’t gain control over his balance.

  “Lord Hopkins!”

  Tristan stumbled, nearly dropping Lady Jillian in the process and looked up into the eyes of His Grace, the Duke of Eldridge.

  “I’ll anticipate your calling on me tomorrow to discuss the marriage settlement.”

  Alderney, Channel Islands

  Elaina settled at the top of the cliff near Fort Essex and looked out to the ocean as if it held answers. In a way, it did, but the
waves refused to provide Elaina with the information she sought. The only certainty in her life was that her name was Elaina and the only past she could recall began three years ago when she’d woken in a strange manor, unable to recall who she was, how she’d arrived in such a place or where she’d been.

  It wasn’t unusual for Elaina to go off on her own and find a place for peaceful contemplation and to seek answers. Today, she faced France, but at other times, she visited the harbor at Longis Bay, which faced England, and each time wondered to which country she belonged. As she spoke French and English fluently, and in a manner that either could have been her first language, no determination had ever been made. The French living in Alderney insisted she was French, whereas the English who also inhabited the island insisted that she must be English. Elaina just wished she knew the answer of where she’d come from. Had she been returning home to England or leaving France for a holiday elsewhere? Though, if she were on holiday, why would she sail on a merchant ship?

  “Elaina, do ya never get tired of staring out into nothingness?”

  She smiled at Brendan Boyle, at one time a near constant companion. Brendan was the only person with any answers to what had happened to her. However, he could not give her the past before the ship, and he’d only been able to tell Elaina her name because another sailor on the ship had yelled it over the fierce storm. It was the last thing Brendan heard before they were both washed away.

  “Tell me again, what you remember.”

  Brendan sighed. “I’ve told ya a hundred times and it hasn’t helped ya recall who ya are.”

  That was true. “Then tell me for the hundred and first time and perhaps it will finally bring forth the memories.”

  “Very well.” He sighed and settled on the side of the hill, clutching the spyglass in his hands. “We were on a ship that sailed from Saint-Malo, France, and bound for Plymouth, England, when a fierce storm took us off course.”

  Elaina nodded then closed her eyes and tried to bring forth the memories. The wind blowing so hard that it nearly knocked her from her feet and caused waves to crash over the side of the ship. The mast above cracked before it plummeted to the deck and listed the ship to the side. Her imagination was vivid, but only because Brendan had told her so often. As hard as she tried, Elaina possessed none of the familiarity of one who had lived through the experience, even though she had.

  “Ya were screaming and crying, leaning over the rail of the ship, to those who had made it to lifeboats when another wave came, taking us both. I grabbed onto ya as we were both hit by the wave because I hoped that we’d have a better chance at grasping something to hold before being taken over the side, but it was not to be. Ya were knocked unconscious, but I held onto a piece of the ship until we washed up on that shore.” He pointed down below.

  “Are you certain you’d not seen me on the ship before?”

  “As I told ya, I was hired to work in the galley. I didn’t see the passengers or know who they were.”

  “You also said that it was a merchant ship and not a passenger ship, correct?”

  “Aye. The captain brought on a handful of passengers as a favor, but I never asked who the favor was for or who the passengers were.”

  Oh, if only Brendan had been a little bit nosier then she might have the name for her traveling companion and a clue to who she was. Instead, she was simply Elaina and had been given the surname of St. Anne, after the main town in Alderney, as it wasn’t proper to be addressed by her Christian name by those who were not close friends or family. To many, she was simply Miss St. Anne.

  There was much Elaina didn’t know, like the names of her family, if she even had any family. There were also questions as to whether she was a miss at all. “Why can’t I remember?” Elaina complained of her loss of memory so many times she was certain people were tired of hearing about it.

  “Doctor Webber says that sometimes ya just need a familiar face or item to bring it all back.”

  As she had arrived on the shore with nothing but the clothing she wore, it was unlikely that anything would ever bring back her memory.

  Brendan raised the spyglass and looked out at what was only a sail against the clear blue sky. She couldn’t make out if it was a ship or smaller vessel from this distance.

  “Are they coming here, do you think?” So often she’d thought about taking a ship to either England or France in hopes that someone would know who she was, but had dismissed the idea as both countries were large and where would she even begin to look? Just because she had ports of destination and from where she had left, didn’t mean that she’d lived anywhere near either. Besides, Alderney received their fair share of ships and for months inquiries were made with each English and French vessel, but nobody knew anything about her presence on the English merchant ship, or that she’d been swept overboard. After a time, they’d given up asking and Elaina had tried her best to settle into her new life, but she’d never been able to stop wondering about where she’d come from or where she might truly belong.

  Chapter 2

  The meeting had not gone well with His Grace, not that Tristan expected a warm welcome into the family.

  In fact, when he’d gone to the mansion, Tristan had been determined to convince His Grace that a marriage between him and Lady Jillian would be a mistake. Tristan even argued that he was already married, which the duke dismissed. He had ordered Tristan to have Elaina declared dead so that the nuptials could take place.

  Tristan’s argument that it wasn’t possible to have Elaina declared dead because she hadn’t been missing for seven years had also been dismissed as there were witnesses who saw her washed overboard and nobody had been able to find her in the water, thus she was assumed dead. His Grace then threatened to find those witnesses and have them sign affidavits if necessary and bring the claim himself, much to Tristan’s irritation, which caused him to resent the duke, his future father-in-law, all the more.

  Further, His Grace insisted that the marriage was to take place in secret and by special license.

  “I hardly think that is necessary, Your Grace,” Tristan argued.

  “My daughter will have a grand wedding as is her due as my daughter, in three months, after preparations have been made, banns cried, and all the nonsense her mother wants, and because I want no gossip about a rushed wedding.”

  “Then why wed in secret now?”

  His Grace had leaned forward. “I have no intention of allowing you out of this match. You will be tied to her now even if Society believes the marriage has yet to take place, and it will be me who makes that announcement when the time is right.”

  As much as Tristan would like to escape a future with Lady Jillian, honor would not allow it but what His Grace was suggesting was not only insulting, but impractical.

  Further, Tristan didn’t doubt for a moment that His Grace would find ways to see his family name and reputation tarnished. Not that Tristan cared, nor would his brothers, but they had a younger sister, due to be presented next spring, and Eldridge’s threats that Olivia would never be welcomed into Society was what brought him up to scratch.

  “The banns will be cried in your parish church as is custom and the wedding will take place in your home in three months.”

  At least he’d have three months of freedom before he had to take Jillian as a wife. A secret would also require that they remain apart, if His Grace wished to preserve her reputation. Hopefully in that short time Tristan would be able to come to terms with the idea of having a wife again, or find a way to free himself, if it would even be possible after the vows were spoken.

  “After you wed in London, Jillian will travel with you to Cornwall, with her maid as a companion and chaperone, of course, on the pretense of meeting your children since I will announce a betrothal shortly.”

  Married but not married, and Lady Jillian by his side much sooner than he wished.

  Bloody hell! He should have never allowed Sophia to drag him off to London.

 
By the time Tristan returned to his townhouse, all he wanted was a bottle of brandy and his comfortable chair in the library.

  It was impossible to travel to his man of business to see about declaring Elaina dead in the time allotted and he no longer knew of who could do this for him in London.

  However, it was a task he’d undertake tomorrow as he had every intention on getting bloody drunk tonight.

  “Why so glum?” Sophia asked as Tristan stepped into the parlor.

  With her were Miss Rosemary Fairview and Miss Eliza Weston. “Well, if it isn’t the troublesome trio.”

  “Good afternoon, Lord Hopkins,” Miss Fairview greeted.

  “I must agree with Sophia, you do not look well at all,” added Miss Eliza.

  “It’s been a trying day,” Tristan finally answered. If Sophia were alone, he’d confide in her but as she was not, he’d hold his own counsel with a bottle of brandy.

  “The Ladies Victoria and Olivia,” the butler announced just as the Westbrook twins followed him into the parlor.

  What was it with Sophia’s closest friends in that they’d never married? Thank goodness he didn’t need to worry about Sophia going about doing as she wished since she had married and was now a mother.

  “The Duke of Eldridge would not grant your freedom?” Sophia asked.

  Tristan glared at her. His circumstance was to remain a secret as he had every intention of freeing himself from this betrothal, though he had little time to do so. He did not need her friends knowing of his predicament and then gossiping to the ton.

  “We won’t speak a word of this,” Miss Rosemary assured him.

  “As women of a certain age who have refused to marry, we’ve endured our own fair share of gossip and we wouldn’t dream of speaking of Sophia’s brother out of turn,” Miss Eliza assured him.

  The twins nodded in agreement.