Married to the Marquess

By Rebecca Connolly

To hate and to scold…

Derek Chambers, Marquess of Whitlock, has a problem: his wife. She is the single most horrifying aspect of his life, and the only thing he has ever enjoyed about her are their truly spectacular fights. As such, he prefers having as little to do with her as possible. So when she unexpectedly s

• Language: English
• Publisher: Phase Publishing
• Release date: Dec 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781943048052

Book preview

Chapter One

Hampshire, 1818

Calligraphy Swirl

Invariably, when one feels that one’s life cannot possibly get any bleaker, it does. Or, conversely, when one feels that one’s life is perfectly situated, something rather disastrous occurs to change that opinion rather quickly.

Derek Chambers, Marquess of Whitlock, had been quite simply minding his own business one fine summer’s day when he was approached by his father and mother, the Duke and Duchess of Ashcombe, and informed that he was to be married in a week to the Honorable Katherine Bishop, daughter of the Viscount Dartwell. It was not such a shocking surprise, as he had known of his impending marriage from childhood when it had been arranged for him.

It was a still rather dreadful prospect, despite his knowledge. His long-standing relationship and interaction with Katherine had done nothing to endear her to him by any stretch of even the most imaginative of imaginations. Poisonous reptiles have that effect on people.

But he knew his duty to his family and their long heritage of well-made matches as far as standing, titles, and fortune went. It was quite simply the way things were done.

So he had married Katherine, and for the last several years; he was never able to remember just how many as each year seemed a lifetime; they had lived blissfully apart, and only came together when forced. Aside from the occasional correspondence and the unfortunate meetings in London, which oftentimes felt like penance for a multitude of sins he had yet to commit, Derek could almost forget that he was even married at all.

It was quite a wonderful arrangement of his otherwise rather depressing life.

Being in such an arrangement also allowed him ample opportunity to spend as much time as he wished with his friends. At the moment, he was preparing for what was destined to be one of the greatest naps ever taken in the front drawing room of his friend Nathan’s estate, Beverton House. Nathan, the Earl of Beverton, and his new bride Moira were still on their honeymoon trip, and had entrusted the house and repairs to the watchful eyes of Colin Gerrard and himself. Their other compatriots, the ever charming Geoffrey Harris and the less than graceful Duncan Bray, were also around somewhere at present, as each had a strong aversion to being in London without the appropriate company.

They had worked very hard this morning assisting the remaining tenants with their repairs, and Derek, for one, was absolutely exhausted. As fit as he thought himself, Nathan’s tenants were able to outwork him easily. Such strenuous physical labor was not something Derek was accustomed to, though he didn’t object to it. His father would have been furious and appalled had he knowledge of it. If he were to be perfectly honest with himself, Derek would have to admit that was part of the attraction.

D’you know, I think that Nate’s going to stay away forever and leave all of this mess to us to take care of, Colin announced from his position on the sofa in the corner.

Derek grinned and opened one eye to look at his friend. What, you think he is intentionally prolonging this honeymoon trip purely to avoid all the work here for him to do?

Exactly, Colin said, pointing a finger and giving him a calculating look.

A disbelieving snort escaped Derek as he settled himself deeper into his chair and adjusted his feet on the ottoman before him. I doubt that very highly.

Why? It’s not as though he’s made an effort to be here with all of this work.

Derek leveled a knowing look at him. Have you seen the way those two look at each other? They’re taking their time, all right, but not to avoid work here.

Colin snickered and shook his head. Point taken, but you forget he was gone for two weeks before Moira ever came storming back.

"Yes, but he was with Moira most of that time, Derek pointed out, gesturing with his hands slightly. You can hardly blame him. Would you want to spend time with us when you could spend time with her?"

I still think he’s avoiding work, Colin muttered as he shifted his position grumpily.

Oh, come off it. You’re not still upset that Moira called you a frog, are you?

A toad! Colin cried, waving a finger in protest. A toad, Derek, not a frog.

And the difference there is…?

Colin sniffed in a rather indignant manner. Well, if you don’t know, then I am not going to tell you. He sighed moodily and folded his arms. I fail to see why any of us have to bother with wives anyway.

Are you truly complaining because Nathan got himself a wife, and now he is slightly less available than before? Derek asked in disbelief. I’ve never seen him happier than he is now, and you must admit that Moira has done that for him.

You’ve got a wife, and it’s hardly done any wonders for you.

Derek glowered. "What I’ve got is a bad case of some horrible growth that no physician can remove. That is not a wife."

Colin laughed out loud. Oh, come on, Derek. You have got to admit that Katherine is pretty enough.

For what? Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and woe unto any man that beholdeth that tyrannical hag, for they will not only turn to stone, but a gargoyle to boot.

Colin was laughing too hard to make any further comment, and Derek found himself smiling a touch to himself. Katherine had but two purposes in life; producing the heir to the dukedom, and driving Derek’s sanity to its breaking point and beyond. He shuddered at the very thought of the first, and the second… well, he shuddered a bit at that, too. He rather liked his sanity as it was.

To be perfectly fair and honest, Katherine was the perfect marchioness, and would be the perfect duchess one day. She knew every single detail of the estates, knew the names of every family under their care, and kept a very neat and careful tally of every item or detail that would require his direct attention.

Her letters every month were brusque and formal, rather business-like, and undeniably cold. He could almost smell her disapproval oozing in every ink stroke. Not that he was lax in his duties, for he was quick to respond to anything that was required of him, and, as was evidenced by his recent activities, he had no qualms about getting his hands dirty as the case required.

The problem was that Katherine despised him as much as he loathed her. She disapproved of everything he did and made no secret about it. While he was being insulting and demeaning of her here, she would be doing the exact same thing with her friends in London.

If she had any friends.

He couldn’t have said if she did.

He doubted it.

A resounding knock came at the door, and both men craned their necks ever so slightly to try to get a glimpse of the arrival. Rosemont, Nathan’s rather smart butler, soon came into the room. My lord Whitlock, there is a rider here with an urgent missive for you.

Derek groaned and rubbed at his eyes with one hand. Bring him in here, then, Rosemont.

Very good, sir, he said with a quick bow.

In short order, the rider, who was rather windswept and breathless at the moment, came before Derek and handed over the letter.

How far have you come? Derek asked as he looked up at the young man.

From London, sir.

Derek made a noise of discontent as he saw the seal on the back of the letter. It was his own. A letter from Katherine, then. That was odd, as her letters always came very promptly on the fifth of each month. Today was the seventeenth. Cursed old bat, he muttered as he broke the seal.

Oh, is it from your wife? Colin asked, grinning from his lounging position.

Derek threw a vicious glare his way. He opened the letter and quickly perused the remarkably short note in Katherine’s very neat hand.

To the Marquess of Whitlock:

Dear Sir,

A situation has arisen that requires your attention and attendance for the sake of propriety and appearance. It is a matter of some urgency. I therefore must insist upon your immediate presence in London. I shall expect you to arrive by the twenty-second day of this month.

                             May this letter find you well,

                                         Lady Whitlock

Derek snorted, rolled the letter into a ball, and tossed it rather accurately into the fire. He was most certainly not going to come all the way out to London just because she told him to, and was most especially not going to do so without knowing exactly why he was going. If she didn’t think to put the reason into a letter, it couldn’t have been so imperative as to actually require his immediate attention.

Oh, for heaven’s sake, Derek, why do you even read them if you’re just going to toss them into the fire? Colin asked, watching him with interest and amusement.

Because the witch would know if I didn’t read them, Derek said defensively. He settled back into his seat, and looked up at the rider, who looked more than slightly shocked at his actions. Tell Katherine that I will come down when I want to, and not when she demands it.

If you please, my lord, the rider said with the barest hint of a stammer. I know she probably didn’t mention it in the letter, but I happen to know that her mother, Lady Dartwell, passed away just last night.

Derek’s feet skidded off of the ottoman he was resting them on. She what?

The rider nodded. Lady Penelope, sir. She had been quite ill for some time and she finally passed last night.

How do you know this?

The man’s cheeks colored ever so slightly. I happen to be acquainted with a maid in that house, sir, and she told me herself.

He swore under his breath. Now he had to go. But why didn’t Katherine say so? Of all the cursed things that could have happened, it had to be a death in the family. Not that he was remorseful, for he was really looking forward to a world without his mother-in-law in it, but there was no way he could avoid going to London to support his wife.

From what I can tell, sir, she knew how you felt about her mother and she didn’t want you to come. But she knew she could not refuse to send for you, as is proper.

He groaned and pushed off of the chair. Yes, yes, all right, I’ll come.

But Derek, if she doesn’t want you there and you don’t want to be there and you didn’t like her mother anyway… Colin began, scrambling from the sofa.

Shut it, Colin, he growled as he removed himself from the room. She’s my wife, whether anybody likes it or not, and her mother has just died. What sort of lout would I look like if I didn’t show up?

The sort of lout every man of sense is!

Begging your pardon, milord, the rider interrupted as he followed them. Should I tell her ladyship you are coming?

Derek thought for a moment. No. Let us leave it for a surprise, shall we? He grinned and jogged lightly up the stairs. Pay the man, Colin, and Rosemont, if you would see he gets some food, and then see if one of the carriages can be prepared and sent out front?

Of course, my lord.                                                          

Colin rolled his eyes and paid the man from his pocket. The rider looked confused, but took the coins. The marquess never carries coin, Colin explained. He has a bizarre aversion to his pockets jingling. He clapped the rider on the back, and indicated he follow Rosemont down the hall to the kitchens. Then Colin dashed up the stairs after Derek.

Derek! Why are you going to surprise her? I thought you said Katherine hates surprises!

She does, he heard from the bedroom Derek had been using. Then Derek’s head appeared with a wild grin. That’s the whole idea!

Out of the library nearby came Duncan, who looked perplexed as to the commotion. What’s the fuss, Colin?

Someone needs to stop him! Colin cried, flinging out a desperate hand. Derek is going to London to be with Katherine!

Duncan came out of the room entirely and stared at Derek in disbelief. What? Why?

What’s going on? Geoff’s voice asked as he came up the stairs behind them.

Derek is going to see Katherine, Duncan said, still looking dazed.

Geoff’s face became a mixture of horror and revulsion as he looked to Derek. What? Why?

Derek glowered at the lot of them, then waved at a passing servant. Grab some more of the staff and have my things packed as soon as possible, would you? I need to depart quickly.

The footman nodded instantly. Of course, my lord. He moved off in search of more servants, leaving the men alone again.

You’re really going to the viper’s lair? Duncan asked, looking worried and unconvinced.

Yes, I am. And don’t worry, I have appropriate medicines, he retorted as he brushed passed them for the stairs.

They don’t make Katherine medicine, Colin insisted as he followed. I know, I checked.

Geoff sniggered into his hand behind them and Duncan grinned, but Derek only shook his head. I should probably punch you, but since I know the truth, I won’t.

What if this is all a trick on Katherine’s part, knowing how you despise London? Duncan asked.

Derek stopped suddenly and all three men behind him came to an abrupt halt as they crashed into each other. I never considered that, he muttered, his brow furrowing. She is the devil incarnate. It wouldn’t be surprising if she were to be conniving as a fox.

But if her mother died… Colin trailed off, confused that for once he was sounding like the voice of reason.

Yes, you’re right, Derek said with a nod, moving once more. Even Katherine wouldn’t kill her own mother just to swindle me. I think she rather liked that biddy.

What if she is using all of this just as an excuse to get you to come to her? Geoff brought up as he followed Derek and the others outside.

Derek turned with a sardonically quirked brow. You really think my wife is that desperate for my company, Geoff?

Colin and Duncan snickered as Geoff flushed a little.

Well, I don’t know, maybe she’s secretly in love with you, and…

Derek crossed himself and spat upon the ground, effectively cutting him off. God forbid, Geoff. Keep your curses to yourself, will you? I’ve already got a pox, I don’t need anything else.

Colin was laughing so hard tears were streaming from his eyes. Duncan, who was less prone to laughter, only grinned broadly with mirth. Geoff looked ready to burst into rampant laughter that was only held in check by the hand covering his mouth. Only Derek looked un-amused, and that was only because their joke was his reality. It wasn’t that humorous to him.

Rather sporting of you lads to be so understanding, he began, but he was cut off by an approaching coach nearing the house. They all stood back as it pulled up, the proud Beverton crest on the side. In a moment, Nathan stepped out, looking bright and eager and sickeningly happy.

What a welcoming party to greet us, he said with a grin as he stepped forward and shook hands with all of them.

Yes, it’s quite a relief to find the house so intact, came a tart, but rather amused voice from within the carriage. Moira stuck her head out and prepared to disembark, but Nathan quickly moved to help her down. She glanced up at him in irritation, but he only smiled and took her hand. Once she was settled, she smiled up at the lot. My, you are a sight for sore eyes, and you all look much more attractive now than you were when I left you. I have had no one to look at but Nathan for a whole month, and let me tell you…

That will do, Moira, Nathan overrode, giving her a look, to which she responded with a bright smile, which made him smile, which made her kiss him.

See? Derek said, turning back to Colin, who looked a little green at the lovesick couple. Not all wives are bad.

No, just yours, came the quick retort. That seems quite enough.

What’s that? Nathan asked, looking back and forth between them, having disengaged his lips from his wife’s.

Derek is going to London to be with Katherine, Geoff said, grimacing a bit.

Nathan’s eyes shot to Derek’s, his mouth gaping a touch with abhorrence. What? Why?

Nathan, Moira scolded, flicking a quick, but rather painful slap of her hand across his chest.

Another reason to avoid getting wives, Colin muttered to Duncan, who bit the inside of his cheek and nodded.

Moira glared at them both. I don’t see anyone asking you to turn her into one, she snapped. Then she looked back to Derek. I think it is good of you to go see Katherine, Derek.

Oh, it’s not for pleasure, Moira. I have been summoned.

Summoned why? Nathan asked, rubbing his now tender chest a bit.

Her mother died. He shrugged. She seems to think it requires my attention, and as I am not a complete waste of a husband, I have seen fit to agree.

Moira stiffened ever so slightly, then turned to the servants now unloading their luggage from the coach. Put those things back, she ordered kindly. We are going to be off again in a moment.

Nathan seized her arm as she went to get back in the carriage. What are you doing, Moira?

She gave her husband an impatient look. I am going to London.

Why?

She rolled her eyes. I fancied a visit with the king, Nathan. Honestly, I am going to help Katherine.

You don’t even know her, Nathan protested.

Moira shook her copper hair slowly. No, but I do know what losing a mother feels like and no one should have to face that alone.

She is a witch, Moira, I swear, Derek said, stepping forward, sensing the equally horrorstruck expressions of his friends behind him.

That’s enough, Derek. Even witches need friends sometimes. Besides, I am no angel myself. Perhaps we can learn from each other. She quirked her brows then got back into the carriage.

Nathan turned to Derek and gripped his shirt in a fist. So help me, Derek, if my wife starts resembling Katherine in any way, I will shoot you between the eyes.

I will shoot myself for you, Derek vowed.

Nathan nodded once and released his friend. Good luck.

Don’t tell me you are going to hide yourself in your house the entire time, Derek protested as Nathan entered the carriage. What am I going to do without sentient company?

We’ll come, don’t worry, Nathan assured him with a grin. I wouldn’t leave you to the harpy alone. Ow! he cried as Moira punched him again.

The list grows ever longer, Colin muttered to whoever would listen, which happened to be everyone.

Oh, Colin, Moira called, leaning over to look at him through the window.

Yes? he asked, almost wincing.

She grinned at him. You do know that you are my favorite, yes?

He returned her smile with a flirtatious one of his own. Yes, Lady Beverton. It never ceases to delight me.

She winked and nodded, sitting back. Nathan looked at her in a sort of enraged puzzlement, then signaled to the coachman to drive on, and the remaining men could hear Moira’s delighted laughter over the sound of the wheels.

Blast, Colin sighed, watching them leave.

What? Geoff asked, looking amused at the forlorn look on his face.

I am so weak and susceptible to the charms of women. It’s such a tragedy.

I know just the cure for that, Derek said with a wicked grin. You are coming with me.

Colin gasped in horror. I most certainly am not!

Derek nodded, still smiling. You are. You can stay at your own house, but you are coming to London. All of you are.

Duncan and Geoff looked surprised, but said nothing. Colin looked to them for help, but they only shrugged and nodded their acceptance.

This is a bad idea, Colin said as he turned to go back into the house and get his things. This is a very, very bad idea.

Derek grinned as his friends went to prepare for departure. Spending time with Katherine was rather akin to begging for someone to beat upon him with iron hot tongs, but if his friends would be in town to distract him, then it would not be as bad as it had the potential to be.

The fact that Katherine could not stand his friends was merely a delightful bonus.

Chapter Two

Calligraphy Swirl

Katherine Chambers, Marchioness of Whitlock, was not happy.

Which seemed to be her normal state of being as of late. But it would not be her normal state of being if people would only do as they were told and stop thinking they knew better than she did.

No, no, no, she said firmly, overriding the small man with watery eyes that was before her at the moment. Mother was very firmly opposed to flowers indoors at all. There will be no flowers.

A small whimper escaped the man as he frantically scratched out whatever he had written in that little book of his. What about at the gravesite service, my lady? A small wreath of roses, perhaps?

Katherine sighed and put a gloved hand to her brow. No, Mr. Perkins. Mother had a severe dislike for roses being used for anything other than a wedding. No roses. You may have something small and somber, but no color. White only. Nothing fancy, mind you. It is a funeral, not a coronation.

Yes, milady, he stammered out, bowing out of the room, for which she was especially grateful. Another minute of his simpering and she would have been strongly tempted to strangle him.

She had almost done so anyway, and that was certainly not something her mother would have approved of.

I don’t think flowers would have been so very bad, her father said quietly where he sat across the room with his book. It might have brought some light into things.

Katherine removed her hand and looked over at her father, looking so small in his massive chair, his spectacles sitting so preciously upon his nose, his already very thin hair looking more frail than usual. Father, you know how specific Mother was about things. She gave me charge of her arrangements, and I will follow her instructions to the letter.

He shrugged lightly. As you wish, Katherine. You know best. But when I go, I do hope you will have some flowers there.

Of course, Father. A whole garden, if you wish it.

He smiled just a touch, a mere shadow of his former smiles, and went back to his book.

Katherine watched him for a long moment, wondering just what life would become for him now that her mother was gone. Harry Bishop, Viscount Dartwell, was not a powerful man, nor a wealthy one. He had married well, but without affection, and his wife, Lady Penelope, had seen fit to manage the household and everything else regarding his life, which suited him just as well as he would much prefer to sit quietly alone and read.

As their fortune was not one of great standing, but their bloodlines were rich and old, they had arranged for their two daughters, Aurelia and Katherine, to marry into equally noble families with larger incomes. One of the great crowning achievements of Lady Penelope’s life had been seizing the heir to the dukedom at Ashcombe for her younger daughter, Katherine. Only slightly less of a success had been the arrangement of the match between her eldest daughter to Nigel Whittinham, the heir to a rather extensive baronage.

Engaged at the age of three, Katherine had never known anything but her future as the marchioness of Whitlock, and beyond that the duchess of Ashcombe. Lady Penelope had been determined that her daughters would be perfect wives and marchioness, duchess, or baroness, as the case may have been, and the lessons had gone accordingly. Every lesson had a purpose, every activity was fraught with matronly duties, every opportunity to test and examine was exploited. By the age of thirteen, Katherine knew more about running a household and the duties of a marchioness and duchess than she suspected many ladies currently in those positions did.

Satisfied that her life was situated just as perfectly as could be, given their unfortunate circumstances, Lady Penelope had prided herself on being advisor to her two daughters, and such was her influence over them, her advice was heeded. She had never dealt with her husband unless forced to, and the viscount had not minded that either. If he were advised, he would merely suggest they ask his wife, and send them on their way. He had learned long ago that his decisions were not well favored by his wife, and the fewer reasons to let her find fault with him, the better.

Not that she failed to find fault anyway, as faults seemed to magically appear before her, as Katherine well knew, but such was Lord Dartwell’s love for peace that he would relent all he could to maintain it.

He had not run his own house or lands for more than thirty years. He would have no idea how to do anything.

Katherine swallowed back her worry and straightened in her seat. A duchess never worries. A duchess never slouches. She was forever hearing orders barked in her head, and in her mother’s tone. Echoes of her childhood coming back to her, reminding her of her duty.

She nearly snorted at the thought. Duty, indeed. Her duty as the wife of the laziest man in England to ever inherit any title at all. Her husband was never to be seen in her company, and she was grateful for it. He had no idea what sort of pressures she dealt with running his affairs, and maintaining the honor of his family’s name. She was the most capable marchioness she had ever met, and the fine order she kept things in made her husband appear to be very organized and attentive when in reality she highly doubted he even read the letters she sent him.

She could not remember the first time she had met Whitlock, as they had both been very young, but she remembered many visits that had been forced upon them throughout their lives, and they had been a torturous experience for