The Unexpected Marquess
A new marquess, a chance meeting and a hidden identity…
He was simply John Evans when he enlisted ten years ago. But when John returns to England after the war against Napoleon is over, he gains an unexpected title—the Marquess of Lowenbrock.
Niece to the former marquess, bluestocking Amelia Weston pretends to be a barmaid for one night as research for the novel she’s writing. When one of the tavern’s patrons tries to take liberties, a handsome stranger comes to her rescue.
Days later, Amelia is shocked to discover the new marquess is none other than the stranger she met all too briefly that night. The same man upon whom she’s based the hero of her novel. Unsure about his reaction to her recent adventure, she must now hide her identity even as she finds herself drawn to him.
When John inherited a title and an estate, no one told him he’d also be responsible for the shy Miss Weston. But he can’t help growing closer to this woman who reminds him, at the most inconvenient times, of the voluptuous barmaid he met during his last night in London.
The Unexpected Marquess is book 5 in the Landing a Lord series.
Get it now from:
Amazon US (UK, AU, Canada) ~ Apple Books ~ B&N ~ Google ~ Kobo
Excerpt:
April 1816
John Evans was on the way to becoming well and truly foxed. His mouth was beginning to take on an unpleasant taste, and a warm buzz had settled over his senses. At this rate, he’d be in no condition to set out for Yorkshire tomorrow. His vision was still clear, however, so he ignored his normal caution.
This was his last evening in London, not that he’d miss the place. He longed for the quiet country life of his youth. But he would miss the two men sitting at the table with him now, laughing as they shared some of the pleasant memories they’d experienced over the past few years. They were the brothers he’d never had. No one wanted to talk about the friends they’d lost during the long war with Napoleon, not tonight, but they’d never be forgotten.
“And then Sir Galahad decided to jump in and rescue the poor damsel!”
Baron Cranston slapped John on the shoulder, the wide grin on his face indicating he was equally deep in his cups. “How have I never heard this story before?”
The Viscount Ashford grinned. He raised his cup in a mock salute and downed the rest of the liquid. “I was saving it. Since this will be our last evening together for the foreseeable future, I figured there was no point letting it go to waste.”
John crossed his arms and scowled at Ashford. His friend never tired of tormenting him about John’s inclination to jump in without thinking when a woman needed assistance.
“I have two sisters, as you both know. If you sorry lot were similarly afflicted, you’d understand what it is to feel the need to come to a woman’s rescue.”
Ashford shook his head. “I do have sisters, so that excuse doesn’t apply. No one here would stand by and allow a woman to be taken advantage of. But we draw the line at saving light-skirts from plying their trade.”
Another round of raucous laughter accompanied that statement, and somehow John kept from punching his good friend.
Their carefree mood was contagious, and he found himself struggling not to laugh with them. But it wasn’t a laughing matter, especially since it was true. After failing to stop his older sister from sacrificing herself in an unwanted marriage to save their family, he’d developed the inconvenient inclination to rush in whenever he saw a woman in jeopardy. Sometimes before he’d even taken full stock of the situation.
And as it turned out, Louisa’s marriage was a happy one. From what he’d seen of her and the Marquess of Overlea during his current stay at their London town house, it was clear that they were very much in love with one another.
He downed the rest of his drink and forced his thoughts away from the angry youth he’d been when he discovered his sister was about to wed the head of the family that had ruined theirs. There was no point in allowing the ale to go to waste, but he wouldn’t order another.
“Evans.”
He met Ashford’s gaze, and the man inclined his head to the scene that was taking place at the back of the tavern. “What say you? Genuine dismay or yet another game to entice more coin from the man in question?”
John’s eyes narrowed as he took in the scene. He wasn’t surprised to find the woman in question was the dark-haired beauty he’d been trying to ignore all evening. He scowled at the rowdy group of men who were giving the barmaid a difficult time. Her attempts to escape the hands that were reaching for her lacked the arch coyness they all knew meant she wasn’t trying to escape.
“It doesn’t look like a game,” Cranston said.
All eyes turned to John as his longtime brothers in arms waited to see what he’d do.
“The devil take you both.” John rose to his feet, working to keep his growing anger under control. Anger that wasn’t aimed at his friends. He knew both men would step in to help the woman, but for some reason they took an inordinate amount of pleasure in watching him do so.
Like the horrible cliché of a knight coming to the rescue of a fair damsel, John strode to the back of the room where one of the men had succeeded in drawing the unwilling woman onto his lap.
Having learned his lesson from previous attempts to save women who were engaging in a bit of play to up the price for their wares, he didn’t rush to attack. Instead, he stopped right before the man who was so intent on holding on to the woman in question that he didn’t notice John’s arrival.
His gaze collided with that of the woman, and what he saw in her deep blue eyes told him he’d been correct in his original assessment. Her pupils were dilated with unmistakable fear, her breathing shallow. He’d seen those signs on the faces of many men often enough during battle. He held his hand out to her and waited. Without hesitation, she grasped it and allowed him to pull her to her feet. In one swift movement, he placed himself between the woman and the rowdy group that had now become silent.
©2021 Suzanna Medeiros