A Less than Merry Marquess (Seven Unsuitable Sisters #6)

Chapter One

Traveling from Middlebie, Scotland (a wee bit north of Gretna Green), to Broadmere Hall in England’s Lake District

Lady Merry, youngest of the Duke of Broadmere’s seven high-spirited sisters, leaned out the carriage window, stretching both hands skyward.

“Is there anything more delightful than snow?” The fluffy white crystals of the wintry haze thrilled her.

She loved how it softened every sound to a gentle, hushed version of itself.

The crisp air pinched her cheeks and nose, making her feel alive with the briskness of the season’s affectionate kiss.

Her eldest sister, Lady Serendipity, tugged her back inside, reached across her, and yanked the window covering shut.

“Not dying of some dreaded ailment brought on by excessive exposure to this ghastly weather is far more delightful than snow. Now, please keep the window closed. Good heavens, Merry. One would think you a boisterous child rather than a lady turning two and twenty this month.”

“Seri.” With a sad shake of her head, Merry clicked her tongue, mimicking the pianoforte tutor none of the sisters had liked. “Snow is gorgeous, and winter is my absolute favorite season. What has you so out of sorts?”

“I am not out of sorts, and your loving winter is most strange.” Serendipity tucked the lap blanket closer around them.

“Just because you were born in January does not mean you should strive to be the ice queen.” Wrinkling her nose in worried disgust, she peered around the shade covering the window on her side of the carriage.

“We should have remained in Middlebie for another day or so, as Miriam suggested.”

“You know as well as I that Miriam wanted us to stay at Middlebie because her husband is a bore—not because she feared the snowstorm would overcome us.”

Serendipity wrinkled her nose again. “He is a dreadful bore, isn’t he? Poor Miriam. She does seem quite fond of him, though.”

The carriage lurched with a jerking bounce, then groaned as it careened over at a dangerous tilt and slid partially onto its side.

A muffled bellow shouted over the chaos, but Merry couldn’t make it out. “What did Jasper say?” Determined to calm her pounding heart and not panic, she stretched to open the window of the door that was now above them. The carriage shuddered again and shifted to an even more alarming angle.

With a shocked squeak, Serendipity bumped harder against Merry, pinning her to the wall of the coach. “He said, ‘Hold fast and do not move.’ We must be about to drop off into some sort of abyss.”

An abyss? Merry swallowed hard, resisting the urge to wriggle out from between her sister and the window frame biting into her shoulder.

Images of them dangling off the edge of a cliff came to mind, then she scolded herself for being as ridiculous as Serendipity.

That was pure silliness. There were no cliffs or abysses between Middlebie and Binnocksbourne.

But there was the Channel of River Esk and the River Eden.

Good heavens, what if the slippery roads had sent them into one of the rivers?

The distinct gurgling of trickling water and crackling ice made itself known on her side of the carriage.

“Jasper cannot possibly get us out of here by himself. We must think of a way to help him.”

“We are about to drown. What would you suggest?”

“Do not panic,” Merry said, noting the terror in her sister’s voice and trying not to succumb to the same. “We must try to climb out. Very slowly and with the greatest of care.”

Serendipity clutched the lap blanket to her throat and huddled closer. “I am not moving. Jasper will save us.”

“Seri.” Merry flinched and cleared her throat to rid herself of the frightened shrillness in her voice.

That simply would not do. Poor Serendipity had never liked water ever since the day their brother Chance had nearly drowned while chasing after a wooden sword the sisters had thrown into the pond.

“Seri,” she repeated with more strength and certainty, “we have to help him by helping ourselves. Jasper is a lone man out there with a team of frightened horses to calm and a snowstorm to battle. I fear he is sorely outnumbered.” She wouldn’t add that the icy water was seeping in around their feet.

If there was one thing she absolutely hated, it was wet feet.

“Move slowly and with the greatest of care. Just push open the door and climb out.”

“You go first.”

“You are on top of me.”

Serendipity frowned, then cast a worried glance at the door above them while chewing on her bottom lip. “Fair point.”

Merry eyed her sister, impatiently waiting for her to move, but doing her best to be kind. Snipping at Serendipity because of her inability to overcome her fears would not improve the situation. “Well?”

Serendipity sadly shook her head. “I cannot. I am so sorry.”

“You must make yourself do this. If I wiggle out from under you, we might very well finish sliding into the river.”

“Jasper told us to hold fast.” With a shaky nod, she huddled deeper into the blankets. “I am holding fast.”

“There is water coming in,” Merry said, “around my feet.”

“You lie.”

“I never lie about wet feet, and you know that.”

Loud shouts could be heard outside. Men. Merry couldn’t sort out how many. “Someone is here. Thank heavens. Jasper has help now.”

“Either that or highwaymen have arrived to take advantage of the situation.”

“Gads alive, when your day goes awry, it sours your entire outlook, does it not?” Merry refused to dwell on the bad or worry that things might get worse.

Worry changed nothing. It simply turned you into a miserable mess, unable to enjoy whatever goodness there might be left to embrace.

There was always some good to be found somewhere.

One simply had to look harder for it sometimes.

She nudged her sister. “Are you not proud of me for saying, Gads alive, instead of bloody hell?”

Serendipity glared at her. “You just said bloody hell.”

Grinning, Merry nudged her again. “We are going to be all right, Seri. I just know it.”

“And how do you just know it?”

“Because things could be so much worse.”

“How so?” Serendipity huffed, her breath fogging in the cold, damp air.

“We could have tumbled straight away into the river and been swept off or trapped under the water. But we weren’t.

We are merely tilting into the water a bit and will soon be out and on our way to the nearest shelter with a warm fire to dry ourselves before returning to Broadmere Hall.

” Merry nudged her again. “One must think positively and look for the silver linings. Remember Mama always telling us that?”

“Oh, do be quiet.” Serendipity turned her face away and closed her eyes, escaping the only way she could.

Merry felt sorry for her sister. Apparently, it was quite the disagreeable chore being the eldest, especially on days such as today.

With a whoosh that made them both yelp, the carriage door above them flew open, and a dark-haired man with a furious scowl reached inside. “Take my hand!”

Serendipity stared at it and didn’t move.

Merry shoved her toward their hero. “Seri! Take his hand, for heaven’s sake.”

“Make haste, woman!” He stretched to reach Serendipity as she hesitantly moved to take his hand with both of hers. “That’s it, lass. Now, climb as I pull ye. On wi’ ye now. Come along, lass. Make haste.”

Climbing up onto the seat to scramble out after her, Merry squealed as the carriage slipped again with a sickening grind.

“Hold fast, woman!” the Scot ordered her as he pulled Serendipity to freedom. “The horses are barely keeping the bloody thing in place.”

Merry clamped her hands on the doorframe and did just that. At least if the carriage sank the rest of the way into the river, she could wriggle out of it before the current carried it away.

He reappeared, caught hold of her arms, and yanked her up out of the coach as if she weighed no more than a whisper. As he caught her to his chest, she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. Now was not the time to worry about unladylike behavior.

“I have ye, lass,” he said, grumbling the words against her cold cheek as he trundled through the water, then up the slippery embankment.

The dark dusting of his day’s growth of beard was as bristly as a boar brush against her face, but she didn’t care.

There was something quite exhilarating about being carried in a man’s arms—especially one so solid and muscular.

And he smelled nice—as crisp and fresh as the falling snow, with a hint of citrus and fine leather.

Once he reached the top of the embankment, he leaned forward to set her down, disappointing her immensely.

“Thank you.” Reluctantly, she unwound her legs from around him, planted her wet boots in the snow, then slid her arms from around his neck. “My goodness, you are tall. It felt as if you were lowering me from the heavens.”

He scowled down at her, his dark eyes fierce and glaring.

“I meant that as a compliment,” she said, thankful that she hadn’t mentioned his impressively muscular chest as well. “Thank you for saving my sister and me.”

“Whether ye are saved or not remains to be seen.” He nodded at her feet. “Yer feet are wet. Yer carriage is stuck in the river, and yer man may have to unhook the horses to save them.”

“Well, I am a great deal safer than I was.” Good heavens, this handsome gentleman—for the fineness of his clothing bespoke of a man of good breeding—was as sour and bleak as Serendipity.

She offered him a curtsy. “I am Lady Merry Abarough, sister to the Duke of Broadmere.” She cast a glance at her sister.

“That is Lady Serendipity, my sister, and we are very grateful for your help, kind sir. Forever grateful, in fact.”

He barely accepted her politeness with an abruptness she didn’t understand. “Ye are welcome. I am the Marquess of Kirkston.”