A Marquess for Marigold: The Blooming Brides Book 2 Read online

  “So I have been told,” Lord Dorchester replied without a hint of a smile. Marigold cringed, her smile ever increasing for Gus to make up for Lord Dorchester’s lack of response. Honestly, would it really be so difficult to infuse some warmth into his countenance now and then?

  She took their almonds, ready to pay Gus, but Lord Dorchester held a hand out with coin, insisting when Marigold tried to argue with him about it. She finally accepted his offer and they began to walk through the crowds.

  “So where do you typically call home?” she asked, and he shrugged.

  “Sometimes London, sometimes near Cambridge.”

  “Oh, that’s not incredibly far from here. That must be rather lovely, to spend time in both the city and the country,” she said, but he just shrugged once more.

  “I suppose.”

  “Oh, look!” she exclaimed. “They have begun a game of shuttlecock. I do not suppose you have ever played?”

  “I have.”

  “Would you like to join in?”

  “No, Miss Tavners, I most assuredly would not. Can both men and women play?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then why do you not go ahead and I will hold your almonds?”

  She looked at him with narrowed eyes. “I do not suppose this is just a ploy in order for you to eat my treat?”

  Marigold could tell that he was about to protest until he finally realized she was joking.

  “Ah, clever, Miss Tavners. I can assure you that I will not eat your portion of almonds, though it seems you have already done most of that yourself.”

  Marigold’s cheeks warmed slightly. It was true that she had eaten far more than she had realized, but she had always loved them so much. She looked over at Lord Dorchester.

  “Do not tell me that was a jest of some sort?”

  “I would not want to so shock you, Miss Tavners. Now, it looks as though your game is about to begin.”

  “So it is,” she said, handing him her bag and then jumping into the fray, Clover following her. She was quite self-conscious with Lord Dorchester watching her, though why, she had no idea. There was something about him that rather unnerved her. She kept an eye on him, noting that he retreated to the wall so that he was out of the way and far from the stares of most passersby. For he was certainly garnering plenty of attention, though whether that was because he was a stranger here or because of his appearance, Marigold wasn’t entirely sure. She hoped it was the former. The truth was, she actually found him rather handsome, despite his scar — or maybe partially because of it, she wasn’t sure. It added to who he was, what he was about. And she couldn’t help but want to know more.

  6

  Jacob wished he could sink back into the wall of the building behind him and be completely hidden from view. He was well aware of the many looks he was receiving from passersby. Not that it overly bothered him, but this was one of the reasons he preferred to remain alone more often than not.

  Even now, he wasn’t sure what had ever possessed him to leave his room and come out here into the midst of these throngs of people. Though, that was somewhat of a lie. He did know what had called him, and she was standing there amidst the other shuttlecock players, having a grand time. He had been watching the street below and had seen her with her sisters and their friend, the sun glinting off her red hair, the little dog at her heels. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her. Why, he had no idea. It wasn’t as though there should be anything particularly exceptional about her. Yet, her gentle spirit, her kind soul, the softness in her eyes when he looked into their blue depths, created within him a sense of peace that he had been missing for so long.

  He looked down at his feet, seeing the puppy looking up at him with his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth. Jacob also shouldn’t feel anything for this particular creature. He could not become attached — to the dog or to the woman — for he refused to lose anything important to him again.

  He couldn’t help himself, however, from bending down to run his hand over Clover’s soft head, and the dog leaned into his leg for more.

  “Why won't you leave me alone, little one?” he murmured. “Both you and your mistress.”

  Jacob would never admit it, but it actually was somewhat enjoyable to be outside in the fresh air with the sun on his face, with those around him happy and jovial rather than awaiting the sounds of a battle cry. And he was quite enjoying watching Marigold Tavners chase after the damn shuttlecock with racket in hand. Her face was flushed and she was as exuberant as any of the other participants, but in a different way, for she wasn’t so much eager to win, but to encourage the rest of them to do as well as they could. It was an interesting concept — not one that Jacob was very used to, with the way he had been raised, nor his own family dynamic.

  He only knew one way of life — to do his best, to be the best, to come out ahead at all costs, whether that be within Parliament, regarding his own finances, or more recently, within war.

  Her game finished, Marigold practically skipped toward him now, her skirts, as pale of pink as one could imagine, billowing around her legs as she did so, her cheeks beautifully blushed.

  “I cannot believe you didn’t want to play!” she exclaimed once she reached him, her smile so wide it was difficult not to return it.

  “Still too battle weary, I suppose,” he said with a shrug, and then was somewhat chagrined when he found his response caused that brilliant smile to fall.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I never thought—”

  “It’s fine,” he said, holding a hand out in front of him. “There is nothing for which to apologize.”

  “Have you ever had a dog before?” she asked suddenly, and he looked down to where her eyes were pointing, at the puppy who had apparently found what felt like home beside his foot.

  “I have,” he said, not interested in imparting more information, but she was persistent.

  “Was it before you went to war? Do you have one waiting for you at home?”

  “There are dogs currently at my estate,” he said by way of response, not wanting to completely answer her. They were his dogs now, whether or not he had chosen them.

  “Do you miss them? How many do you have?”

  He closed his eyes, wishing she would quit her questioning. He had been having what was actually, surprisingly, an enjoyable outing, and now she wouldn’t quit pestering him about his past, which he would prefer stayed where it was.

  “There are three of them. I do not miss them. And I do not wish to speak of such things any longer.”

  She took a step back as if he had struck her, and he sighed, running a hand through his hair, which reminded him that it was far too long. Having his hair trimmed, however, was not something that was of much importance to him these days.

  She turned and began to walk away with him following, though with some hesitation as he wasn’t entirely sure if he was still welcomed or not. But she turned and looked back as though she were waiting, so he caught up, the two of them and Clover weaving through the people who converged on the streets.

  Finally, unable to take the silence between them any longer, despite the fact that he was a man who typically craved it, he began to speak.

  “The dogs are from the same litter. Two males and a female. Dash, Pippy, and…”

  “And?”

  “Sweetlips.”

  “Sweetlips?”

  “Yes,” he said, his own cheeks warming now. “She’s the female. My wife, she loved—”

  Realizing where his sentence was going, he stopped abruptly, wishing he had never said such a thing as Marigold’s head whipped toward him.

  “You are married? I had no idea!”

  “I was married.”

  “Oh. I see. I’m sorry,” Marigold said, and while she looked forward without changing her countenance, he could tell she didn’t entirely know what to say.

  “She passed. Before the war.”

  “Lord Dorchester, I had no
idea,” she said softly. “That must have been horrible.”

  As she said the words, she placed a hand on his arm, but he stepped away from her touch. It was too difficult, brought to the surface too many emotions that he currently had no desire to face.

  “It’s fine,” he said, even though it wasn’t.

  “What was her name?”

  “Anna,” he said, the familiar pain searing through him as he said her name. “She was the one who loved the dogs. I enjoyed them, but they were hers.”

  “I’m sure they miss you.”

  He shrugged. “They miss her.”

  As did he. But he wasn’t about to add that to his sentence.

  “I am going to return to the inn,” he said abruptly, unsure of how to further the conversation and not desiring to continue to walk with her in awkward silence.

  “Oh, are you sure? There is a bit more to see—”

  “I am sure.”

  She nodded.

  “Of course. I’ll walk back with you.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I will.”

  Despite the fact that he had attempted to dissuade her, he appreciated her company, though they walked together in near silence the rest of the way. He had no idea what to say to her and she clearly didn’t want to begin any further conversation. He was sorry if he had caused her to feel as though she would say the wrong thing once more, but he couldn’t help not wanting to answer her questions regarding his wife and her dogs.

  After Anna’s death, he had decided to cut off all emotion that arose regarding any other person, or animal as it may be. For the truth was, he had loved those dogs, nearly as much as she had. Sweetlips, the dog she allowed to sit with her on the sofa, Pippy, the dog who spent most of his time around the horses in the stables, and Dash, who chased after everything that caught his eye.

  He had also lied to Marigold. He did miss them. But he wasn’t returning to his estate for the dogs — dogs who would leave him eventually, anyway.

  Jacob sighed as he looked at the woman beside him, who walked with her arms clasped behind her and a smile on her face for all who passed, despite the fact that her eyes had tightened with strain — from speaking with him. This was why it was best that he remain alone, and not become too attached to anyone. Because he brought nothing but his own despondency to all he became close to now.

  “So, did you enjoy your time at the fair?” she asked, and he looked over to her, confused for a moment, until he remembered her promise to leave him alone if he did not. He should say that he didn’t, and he wouldn’t have to speak to her again. But somehow, the thought slightly disturbed him.

  “I did. But I’ll be going now,” he said abruptly as they reached the inn. “Farewell.”

  But as he walked away, he couldn’t help the fact that part of him longed to remain with her — a part he would have to ignore.

  7

  Marigold spent the next couple of days avoiding Lord Dorchester. She had attempted to help him break through whatever it was that was causing him such pain, but she feared she had only aggravated him all the more. At least she knew now what the cause of it was. Clearly, he had loved his wife — very much — and whatever had happened had left him scarred and bitter ever since.

  Which was sad, for if she was a woman who would cause such love in his heart, and who obviously had loved dogs as much as Marigold herself did, then she had likely been a woman who would want her husband to continue life holding onto her joy in his heart.

  Ah well, Marigold thought as she puttered around the boarders’ sitting room area, dusting and tidying as she went — though there wasn’t much to do with currently only the two gentlemen in residence. And gentlemen they were, though her father had told them the other day that they would soon be having more men come to stay with them, though as always, he had been completely unclear on the details.

  What Marigold was primarily looking forward to was Daisy’s visit. She and her husband were due to arrive at the end of the week. This had been the first time that she and any of her sisters had been apart for any length of time, and she missed Daisy more than she could have imagined.

  She also couldn’t wait to introduce her to Clover. She hadn’t yet again brought up the discussion of him remaining with the family with her parents, but she was sure they would come around. Speaking of Clover… where was he? Marigold had thought he had followed her into the sitting room, once she had ascertained no one was about, but it seemed he had darted off when she wasn’t paying attention. She set down her duster and began up the stairs, but found all of the doors closed. She returned downstairs, looking everywhere within the inn — both in the family’s quarters and the boarders’ — but he was nowhere to be found. Marigold tried not to panic but it was difficult not to. Where had he gone, and would he ever return?

  * * *

  It had been a bit of a walk from the inn to the shore, but finally Jacob was firmly settled within the wooden chair, staring out at the sea. He wished the damn doctor could see him now — doing exactly as he was told, breathing in the sea air to help heal his lungs and help return more ease to his breath. He hated to admit it, but the bloody man might have been right. It did feel better to have the salty air within his body, on his face, in his hair. Of course, even if he ever did see the physician again, he would never tell him so.

  The peacefulness that this town provided was something Jacob had never before experienced, and something he likely never would again. In some contrast to the street fair he had wandered through days earlier, once it had wound down, Southwold was a fairly quiet little place. Sure, people called to one another, greeting each other by name, but it was so far removed from what Jacob had become accustomed to that it was almost unnerving in a way — almost.

  He closed his eyes as the breeze wafted through his hair, and he was reminded once more he should cut it. He could practically hear his wife’s voice in his ear telling him to do so. She had always preferred it short. He rubbed at his chest where his lungs still ailed him now and again. He could hardly believe that the physician might have had a point, but he was feeling an ease begin to break open where it had previously pained him. Whether it was the sea air or the time to actually relax, he wasn’t entirely sure.

  Jacob was so settled in he actually found himself beginning to fall asleep, but then something fluffy was brushing up against his leg, something wet nudging at his hand, and he pulled it back fast, unsure of what could have found him here on the shore. He looked down, however, and nearly laughed. It was that damn dog again.

  “I do not understand you,” Jacob said, shaking his head. “What have I ever done to deserve such devotion? You should go. Back to your mistress.”

  Jacob waved his hand in front of the dog, urging him toward the inn as he took a look around to determine whether said mistress was anywhere nearby, but it seemed the dog was here on his own.

  “Go, pup,” he said, urging him away, but the dog continued to butt up against his hand with his head, demanding attention.

  Jacob sighed. It seemed like he would have to accept the fact that the only way to be rid of the dog was perhaps to give him exactly what he wanted. The moment he began to scratch him underneath his little white chin, Clover jumped off the ground and onto Jacob’s lap. Jacob urged him off, back to the ground, but the little thing was determined and soon found his way up again. After the third time, Jacob recognized the dog’s persistence and allowed him to stay. Clover curled upon his lap contentedly, resting his head on top of Jacob’s arm.

  As Jacob petted the dog’s furry back, he allowed his head to sink back once more, and soon enough the two of them were nearly dozing peacefully together.

  And for the first time in a very long time, a sense of true peace began to flow over Jacob.

  * * *

  “Clover? Clover!” Marigold was searching the road in front of the inn now, but no one had seen or heard from the little puppy in quite some time. She raced around to the front of the inn, lo
oking up and down the shore. It seemed empty. No movement caught her eye, nothing that made her stop and—

  Wait. There. Down the beach, she caught sight of a figure. Someone was sitting in the middle of the sand on a chair, she thought, if she wasn’t losing her mind. What he or she was doing, she had no idea, but perhaps the person might have seen Clover run by.

  Marigold picked up her skirts and began to hurry toward the person, but when she came within speaking distance, she stopped up short.

  For the person in the chair was Lord Dorchester, and upon his lap was none other than Clover. They both appeared to be fast asleep.

  “Well, I’ll be,” she murmured, as she came around the corner of the chair and stared down at them. Sure enough, Lord Dorchester didn’t even move, while Clover opened one eye, looked at her, and then went back to sleep. Marigold crossed her arms over her chest. The traitorous little dog seemed to prefer this man to her, and she had no idea why.

  “After all I’ve done— and do — for you,” she said, shaking her head, “You leave me to panic while you’re out here having a nap on the beach.”

  “I am uncertain of what I could have done to cause you such concern, Miss Tavners.”

  Marigold gave a yelp of surprise when Lord Dorchester spoke, for she had not been expecting a response to her statement.

  “Lord Dorchester,” she said, holding her chest as her heart beat rapidly from the shock, “I thought you were asleep.”

  “Apparently.”

  “I wasn’t actually speaking to you, as it were,” she said.

  “I do not believe there is anyone else sleeping on this beach.”

  “Actually… I was speaking to Clover.”

  “Clover? The dog?”

  He opened his eyes now, and it was as though he was seeing Clover upon his lap for the first time. “Oh, Clover, that’s right, he— off, dog!”