The Marquess of Secrets (The Hornsby Brothers Book 3) Read online

  The Marquess of Secrets

  The Hornsby Brothers #3

  By

  Karyn Gerrard

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement (including infringement without monetary gain) is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The Marquess of Secrets

  Copyright © 2019 by Karyn Gerrard

  Vers. 1.1

  KG Publishing

  ISBN: 978-09940769-8-4

  Cover art/design by Melody Simmons

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Table of Contents

  The Hornsby Brothers Series

  Summary

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Author Note

  More Books by Karyn Gerrard

  Author Biography

  Sneak Peek at Marriage with a Proper Stranger

  The Hornsby Brothers Series

  The sons of the Duke of Gransford are diverse in their natures as are their choices when it comes to love. Growing up in an affectionate household, each is determined to hold out for true love. Searching for it, however, is different from finding, and leads each of the Hornsby brothers to unlikely places and chance encounters with what society would consider unsuitable women.

  Book one is Bold Seduction and concerns youngest son, Spencer Hornsby.

  Book two is The Vicar’s Frozen Heart and concerns middle son, Tremain Hornsby.

  Book three and the conclusion of the trilogy is The Marquess of Secrets and concerns the oldest son and heir to the duke, Harrison Hornsby, the Marquess of Tennington.

  I should have included an author’s note with book one when it was released with a publisher and clarified about the youngest Hornsby brother, Spencer. If diagnosed today, Spencer would fall on the spectrum of a mild form of autism. In the Victorian era there are a few recorded accounts of children manifesting similar aspects. Back then, they were usually diagnosed with “children’s psychosis” and admitted to the asylum. I apologize for not including this as some readers were confused by some of Spencer’s actions.

  Summary

  A secret life

  For years Harrison Hornsby, Marquess of Tennington and heir to the Duke of Gransford, has been a scandalous rake. Unbeknownst to all he’d been leading an entirely different and secret life as physician to the poor. Though his younger brothers held out for true love, as the heir, Harrison feels he doesn’t have that luxury. The time has come to marry an appropriate bride. One who in society’s eyes is worthy to become a duchess. But fate has other plans.

  A damaged woman

  Life for Lydia Chesterton has not been kind. Once a respected nurse at a London hospital, she is alone and homeless due to disastrous decisions with regard to love and trust. Living on the streets and deathly ill, Lydia finds temporary sanctuary with Harrison. Her rescuer is hard to resist especially when he proposes a trade of secrets. With her dangerous past threatening her future, and Harrison bound by duty, a lasting love appears to be out of reach…unless they toss aside all obstacles and risk their hearts.

  Chapter 1

  London, April 1882

  Harrison Hornsby, the Marquess of Tennington, and heir to the Duke of Gransford, lay prone on his mistress’s bed completely spent. A thin sheen of perspiration covered his body. The session had been a vigorous one, and bittersweet for this would be the last time he’d visit Francesca Whitten, his paramour of three years.

  Having turned thirty-four two weeks past, Harrison believed that he was growing too old for such doings. It was better to end this association before commencing his search in society’s marriage mart. His unspoken obligation was to find a suitable bride amongst the aristocracy, a woman with the carriage and grace to one day become his duchess—and to be mother to his children.

  It was all well and good his two younger brothers, Spencer and Tremain, married for love, he would not allow himself such a luxury. A firm believer in duty and all it entails, he alone stood as the future of his family name and title, and his choice of bride was of paramount importance. Harrison held out for as long as he could in the vain hope that he would fall in love as his brothers had. Yearning for a love match such as his parents enjoyed was always a gamble and rare amongst the aristocracy.

  Francesca arched her foot and trailed it along the back of his leg and across his buttocks. “I’ve always admired your muscular and very firm arse, Tennington,” she demurred. “You’re in fine fettle for a man who spends his time sitting on a bench in parliament. It is where you spend your time, is it not? You come here so rarely I’ve begun to fashion all sorts of scenarios.”

  Her foot caressed him, stirring his arousal. Surprising, but he won’t act on it. “Pray tell, what scenarios?” he murmured, struggling to stay awake regardless of his physical reaction.

  “At first I thought it might be another woman. But you’re not the sort of man to engage in sensual deceptions, even if I am your mistress. Then I thought you had a family secreted away in an isolated hamlet on the other side of the country. Again, it’s not in your personality. Regardless of the scandal, you would acknowledge any bastards.”

  “Yes, I would.”

  “I came to the conclusion you’re merely as eccentric as the rest of your family.” Her foot halted in its exploration. “Oh, I am sorry.”

  That killed his arousal. Tossing the silk sheet across his naked body, he turned and sat upright.

  Eccentric. Well.

  He was wide awake now. “What have you heard?”

  Gossip and society machinations annoyed him to no end. There was talk, he supposed, but no one dare speak it in the duke’s presence. His father was a favorite of the queen, a powerful force at court, and in the House of Lords.

  Francesca had the grace to blush. The crimson color of her cheeks matched the auburn shade of her hair. “I don’t wish to end this glorious afternoon with an argument,” she stated, her lower lip thrust out.

  “I give you my word that I will keep a tight rein on my annoyance. Please, do tell.” He crossed his arms, watching her closely.

  With a sigh, she met his gaze. “It’s said your youngest brother, Lord Spencer Hornsby, is…mad. That he suffers fits and inappropriate emotional outbursts, and hides away at a remote location in Wales so as not to be an embarrassment to his family.”

  The fury growing inside Harrison was potent, but he struggled to hide it. However, there was no denying Spence
was—different. From earliest childhood Harrison observed how Spence struggled with handling his emotions and other quirks of his personality. Doctors were called in; all agreeing the boy must be carted off to an asylum. It is to his father’s credit he would not brook any such suggestion.

  Observing Spence’s travails first hand is what interested Harrison in the study of medicine. He was a registered physician with the Royal College of Physicians, and held degrees from Cambridge, but, alas, being a peer would not allow him the opportunity to open a public practice. According to society, it was not an accepted role for the heir to a duke. One must adhere to the blasted rules. But he kept up with the latest developments in medicine.

  In fact, it was he who encouraged Spence to place a rigid routine in his life to keep the demons at bay. Doing chores or tasks a certain way, at the same time of day, placated Spence and lessened the outbursts. Also focusing on one task—like his research into the ancient Byzantine Empire—calmed him. His brows furrowed. All Harrison ever wanted was to protect his youngest brother, but no matter what he’d done to try and divert the gossip; Spence was laughed at and talked about regardless.

  “My youngest brother is not mad, contrary to malicious chatter. As a matter of fact, he’s to be married in May.”

  Francesca bit her lower lip.

  “What?” he asked, dreading the response.

  “I’ve heard his fiancée is a…whore. Not that I’m judging, God forbid.”

  How in blasted hell had that information seeped out? To say Spence’s and Tremain’s choices of brides were outside the norm of so-called proper society was an understatement. All the more reason he must ensure his choice was beyond reproach. His parents were tolerant and progressive in their thinking, and accepted both women warmly, but Harrison was well aware that the incessant gossip hurt them, particularly his mother.

  “I can trust you to keep this to yourself?” he ventured.

  Francesca crossed her heart and nodded. “Absolutely. I’m known for my discretion. Though others do not hesitate to tell me things, I reveal nothing.” She snuggled under the bedspread and her eyes brightened with anticipation. It was true, her prudency was one of the reasons he’d chosen her for his mistress.

  “The week between Christmas and New Year, two of Spencer’s friends hired a prostitute as a birthday gift. The madam herself took the assignment. Long story short, the week alone at a snowbound lodge in Wales resulted in a proposal. They are to be married next month.”

  Francesca smiled. “How utterly romantic! Have you met her?”

  He had, not two weeks past. Spence came to Gransford Manor and the family gathered so he could meet not only Philomena McGrattan, the ex-madam, but Tremain’s fiancée, Eliza Winston, the ex-governess. Philomena’s gentle guidance and empathetic nature calmed Spence, and he focused all his restless energy on her, and she reveled in it. A good match in all ways. Harrison believed that Spence, for all his foibles, would never find someone to love and love him in return. How gratifying that he had.

  “Yes. For all her tragic back story, she is a lady of courage and compassion. I am well pleased for my brother.”

  She smiled warmly. “Then I’m glad. I don’t like repeating this gossip, but I suppose you should be aware of it as no one would dare say it to your face.”

  True enough. “But you will?”

  “Well, yes. I genuinely like you, Tennington. I cannot say as such with all the men that have been in my life.” She ran her finger along his lower lip. “Though you come here far too infrequently, I enjoy it when you do.”

  “I did tell you to take on another if you wished,” Harrison said.

  “No, I don’t juggle multiple men. Besides, the older I’ve become the more I enjoy the solitude between your visits. And you’re most generous. The rental of this town house, the servants, the horse, carriage, and extra money…I have no complaints at all.” She drew her hand away and gave him another brilliant smile. “Besides the energetic bed sport, I like that you stay and talk. Take a meal. Oh, do you wish for me to ring for food?”

  “Perhaps later. Pray continue with the Hornsby gossip. I am all attention.”

  “It’s said your middle brother, Tremain, perpetuated a scam for his own selfish needs. He pretended to be a country vicar for a nefarious purpose. Since his war injuries have rendered him impotent, he adopted a street urchin to be his son.”

  That, as they say, takes the cake. Unbelievable. Again, his blood boiled.

  Harrison took a deep breath and exhaled, hoping to calm his exasperation. “Tremain is a hero of the Anglo-Zulu War, and though his injuries were serious enough to require using a cane, as far as I’m aware, he is not impotent. He, too, will be married next month, the same day as Spence,” he huffed in frustration. “But his injuries were not only physical. I observed the despair Tremain had sunk to. He needed to heal, and, to his credit, he did it his way. You see, he studied for the church, has a degree in divinity, but decided to join the army instead.”

  Francesca was riveted by the tale. He no doubt revealed too much, but he trusted her to keep her word. “He wished to give something back to humanity, serve his fellowman in a way that did not involve war and killing. I admire him for it. The family gave him the distance and time he requested in order to achieve those goals. Not only did it help thaw his ‘frozen heart,’ as he called it, but allowed a serene peace to enter his life—and a new spirituality. It opened his heart to love.”

  “This bit of gossip on your viscount brother originated from Lady Samantha Trimly by the by,” Francesca interjected. “Vindictive piece of baggage. Also claimed your brother seduced a member of his congregation, a haughty governess of questionable background. The tale claims she’d been dismissed for seducing one of the sons of the house. I take it she is the woman he’s to marry.”

  “Yes, she is.” Harrison rolled his eyes. Good God above. Tremain’s gossip travelled far and wide thanks to Lady Trimly, no doubt jealousy the reason. Eliza, Tremain’s fiancée, could be considered haughty at first meeting. Her mode of speech was formal, the way she was brought up in the orphanage and instructed by the nuns, Harrison surmised. But he soon came to the conclusion Eliza possessed a generous, warm nature. Perfect for his brother.

  “I feel rather cross now that I’ve repeated this malicious tittle-tattle, its put me right out of sorts,” Francesca pouted teasingly.

  “Then this should cheer you up.” Harrison reached for a wooden satin-covered box and handed it to her. “Butter creams from H.I. Rowntree and Company. I know you like them. They have lately begun to carry a new confection developed in Switzerland: milk chocolate.”

  Francesca squealed with delight. After opening the box, she peeled away the parchment paper. “Is it this lighter color the milk chocolate?’ she asked, her eyes sparkling.

  “It is. Try it. I found it far sweeter than the dark one.”

  With a contented sigh, she bit into the small square and closed her eyes. “Delicious. I like the extra sweetness. Thank you, Tennington. You are thoughtful.”

  “Lift the tray,” he coaxed in a soft voice.

  She gave him a puzzled look, but did as he asked. Her hand flew to her mouth to cover her gasp of shock. “Are they emeralds?”

  “Yes, they are. I know you adore gold bracelets. Those tiny stones are emeralds.”

  Pulling it over her wrist, she gave him a radiant smile. “This is exquisite. I love it. Thank you, Tennington. I daresay this is almost as if this were a dismissal gift.” Her smile deflated. “Oh, this is goodbye, isn’t it?”

  “There is more.”

  Francesca lifted the folded papers from the sweet box. She quickly scanned them. “You’re giving me this town house and the contents?” she whispered.

  “Yes. It’s yours to do as you will. Live in it, sell it, or use it for your next affair, whatever you wish.” He took her hand and kissed it. “It is goodbye, and a heartfelt thank you. You kept up the pretense I was an unrepentant rake, and I appreciate the e
ffort.”

  “I was a handy excuse and glad to maintain the illusion you kept me busy every night when in fact you were not.” She gave him a sad smile. “I will confess I’d hoped you would come more often, I truly did.”

  Harrison had other commitments, ones he would not reveal to Francesca regardless of the fact he trusted her.

  She tapped the papers thoughtfully against her chin. “There will be no one else after you, Tennington. It’s time to retire. I may be older than you think.”

  “Indeed? Care to elaborate?”

  “I turned forty three months past.”

  By God, she didn’t look it. “You are remarkably well-preserved,” Harrison teased good-naturedly.

  “It takes a good deal of care and effort to maintain such a state. It’s time for Francesca Whitten to fade into the mist and for Annie Stokes to step forward. I think with this money I will purchase a seaside cottage in a small village. Perhaps I’ll meet a tall, broad-shouldered vicar much like your brother. My vicar will be handsome, distinguished, with a touch of gray at his temples. And will not care a whit for my past.”

  Harrison laughed. “You are a treasure, Francesca, or should I say…Annie?”

  “That’s my real name. You’re the only one I’ve ever told.”

  He kissed her forehead, then pushed the sheet away and stood, looking about for his clothes. Once he located them, he began to dress.

  “You are a man of many secrets. A true puzzle. But I respect the fact you keep your covert life to yourself.”

  A covert life. If she only knew.

  “Look at me, Harry.”

  It was the first time she’d ever used his first name. He halted buttoning his waistcoat and turned to face her. Her expression was serious.

  “If any man deserves true love it is you, my dear. I know my severance package indicates you will be shopping about for a young lady of the aristocracy to be your bride. Such a cold and loveless arrangement. I don’t see that for you, Harry. I have a feeling you will follow your brothers down the path of true love with a woman not of your class.” She gave him a sad smile. “She may even be entirely inappropriate. If you meet such a lady, do not dismiss her. Nor dismiss what you feel. True love is rare, many never experience it. Promise me you will give it a chance.”