by Kelly Boyce
“A very wealthy and connected duke.”
“Yes. Thank you for the reminder. Very helpful.” Not that her dowry did not come with a hefty fortune attached, but nothing like that of Lord Franklyn. In fact, the only peer likely to be wealthier than the duke was Lord Ellesmere, and much of that could be attributed to Marcus’s smart business handling.
“I suspect it would be a most advantageous match for him.”
“I’m sure.” Though he need not argue the point so succinctly.
“And what do you wish to offer him that Lady Susan cannot?”
“Offer him?”
“Yes. I would think you would need to bring something to the table to balance what Lady Susan offers. What shall it be?”
Leave it to Marcus to request specifics. Always the businessman. She cleared her throat. “I can offer him…affection. Friendship and pleasing companionship. Do you think he can get these from Lady Susan?”
Marcus remained silent for the span of several maddening heartbeats, then, “No. I doubt she is capable of such.”
“Surely you cannot put a price on such things, can you?”
He stared at her for a full minute without responding. His silence did not bother her. He often thought first and spoke second—unlike her brother or Huntsleigh, who preferred to let the first thought in their heads fly out of their mouths. But this time, something about his silence was different. Tension crackled in the air, though she could not discern its origins.
Marcus’s gaze pierced deep inside of her and traveled from the top of her head down through every hidden pathway in her body, until she tingled with—with what? Expectation?
“Marcus?” She prodded, needing to break the silence and interrupt her foolish thoughts. The only thing she expected from Marcus was his assistance in acquiring a proposal from Lord Selward. Anything else would be improper. Unfair.
He looked away, out toward the gardens. “No, I don’t believe you can put a price on genuine affection or companionship.”
She clasped her hands beneath her chin and breathed a sigh of relief. “Then will you help me?”
His gaze swung back to her with sharp focus. “Help you?”
“Recapture Lord Selward’s full affections.”
Marcus blinked. My, but he had the thickest lashes. Dark crescents that brushed against his skin. They looked soft to the touch.
“How is it I am to help you do this exactly?”
She dug for her courage and blurted the words out. “By courting me.” He opened his mouth—to protest, no doubt—but she hurried on before he could. Before she lost her nerve. “If Lord Selward sees he has another rival for my affections, he will be forced to act or risk losing me to another. I do not believe he wants to lose me—he was most attentive before Father died. He just needs a little prompting to remind him of this fact.”
Marcus’s dark eyebrows hiked skyward. Oh dear. She had shocked him. She offered him an encouraging smile, but that only appeared to anger him, based on the harsh breath that shot out of him as he swept an arm toward the French doors that led back to the dancing.
“You have any number of rivals for your affections. I could not swing a cat by the tail without hitting several gentlemen more than willing to play the part of your suitor.”
“I can’t imagine why you would want to swing a cat by the tail, Marcus. That seems rather—”
“I don’t!”
She winced. Truly, she had not thought he’d become quite so riled by her suggestion. “You need not shout.”
He glared at her, but lowered his voice. “My point is—why me?”
“Oh. That.”
“Yes, that.”
Poor man. He had no inkling of how his popularity amongst the ladies had risen since he’d nearly died saving one of their own. She’d caught several of them looking his way when they entered the Pavilion, a mixture of longing and lust in their hungry eyes. A look she understood only too well.
“I chose you because I need someone I can trust. You are an honorable man and I know my reputation will be safe with you.” She smiled and then added the one thing that would leave him no option but to comply, though she did not care for being so underhanded. “I suppose I could choose one of the other gentlemen you claim is out there—” She waved toward the French doors. “But who is to say whether they will behave in a respectful manner?”
“And you are certain I will?”
She gave a small smile. “I believe you already have. I could not be in safer hands than if I enlisted Huntsleigh.”
“Huntsleigh is married.”
“Which is why he is wholly unsuited to assist me in this endeavor.”
“Unfortunate,” Marcus said, the hardness in his tone surprising her. “Because such a farcical scheme would be right up his alley.”
“It is not farcical! It makes perfect sense. I’m sure if you think about it—”
“I do not need to think about it. The very idea is ludicrous. If Selward refuses to offer for you then clearly he is not worth your time and effort. You should forget him and move on—”
“But I can’t!” She clamped her mouth shut before she said more.
Silence echoed around them.
“Do you love him then?” The question came quietly yet the look he gave her stopped her heart. She tried to grasp it, read it and understand, but he looked away before she could and whatever expression she saw in his dark eyes disappeared, leaving her none the wiser to its origins.
“I—I—that is, he is—”
He held out a hand and she stopped, thankful for the interruption. She did not want to tell Marcus her motives. She had made Nicholas promise not to reveal the contents of Father’s will to anyone. It embarrassed her and she did not want to contend with fortune hunters who were more interested in the size of her dowry than in her.
When he spoke, Marcus’s tone came measured and quiet. “Is a proposal from Lord Selward truly that important to you?”
She thought of Mother, of what the future held for them if she failed in her quest.
“Yes.”
“How exactly do you intend for this ruse to work?”
She sighed with relief. He would help her after all.
“It is simple. You will appear to court me. Pay me visits, perhaps a carriage ride in the park. I will let you know what parties Mother and I will be attending and you will go as well and fill my dance card just enough to get tongues wagging, but not enough to be deemed improper. This will send the message to Lord Selward that you are serious in your intentions toward me.”
Marcus walked to the low stone wall that ran the edge of the terrace and gazed out into the night. His shoulders were rigid, allowing little compromise in his posture.
“I believe you are forgetting one small detail.”
“Such as?”
“Why would Lord Selward, or anyone for that matter, believe you would ever accept a proposal from a man with no title or property to his name?”
“Oh, that.” She dismissed his question with a wave of her hand and stood next to him. “Given your current status as hero and the fact my mother adores you and Nicholas thinks of you as a brother, it makes an odd kind of sense.”
He kept his gaze fixed straight ahead. “Does it?”
She shrugged. In a perfect world, it would have. “We can say that your heroic actions and near death made me realize my feelings for you had gone beyond friendship.”
“Except that it didn’t.”
“Well, no.” She had realized her affection for him well before he saved Lady Franklyn, but she had set those feelings aside. She’d had little choice in the matter. A shame, really. It would have been nice to be married to someone who could make her toes curl with just a look.
“So…will you assist me in my endeavor, or shall I ask someone else?”
Marcus let out a sound somewhere between a growl and a groan. He tilted his head up to the night sky and stared at the stars where they twinkled above. She studied his sh
arp profile; the way the light of the moon bathed his face and enhanced the marked angles of his cheekbones. And her toes curled.
Under different circumstances—
But these weren’t different circumstances. These were the ones Father had dealt her. These were the ones she must contend with.
“Please,” she implored when he had yet to answer.
He glanced down at her and his gaze roved over her face until an unexpected tingle made gooseflesh skitter across her skin. She leaned closer to Marcus, pulled by the sensation, but he quickly looked away, taking the strange awareness with him.
“Very well then.”
Chapter Three
Marcus waited until Rebecca returned to the ballroom before he let his legs fold and sat with a heavy thud upon the low stone wall.
What had he just agreed to?
He should have said no. This was far too dangerous a scheme and Lady Rebecca far too tempting a woman. The ruse she suggested smacked of naiveté on her part. Did she honestly think society would look favorably upon the idea of him courting her? She was the daughter of an earl. A member of the peerage. And he…well, he was none of those things, was he?
His current popularity would fade as quickly as it arrived and when it did, society would claim he used his friendship with Nick and his relationship as Lord Ellesmere’s former ward and current man of business to jump above his station and affect airs he had no right to.
To court a lady well beyond his reach.
And what of Nick? What would he think about this debacle? He’d entrusted his sister’s safety and reputation to Marcus. Instead, what did he do? He’d agreed to help her perpetrate a foolish ruse that could have them all mired in scandal before the Season ended. And for what? To snag a proposal from Lord Selward—a man who’d shown a severe lack of reliability or good sense. Instead of proposing to Lady Rebecca, as he should have long before now, his attentions strayed to another the moment she’d had to remove herself from society to properly mourn her father.
What in the name of all that was sensible did she see in the man anyway? What Selward had in title and property, he lacked in substance and depth. Did she not want a man who could match her wit and intelligence? Her warmth and good heart? Someone who would appreciate the hidden aspects of her character and see the good in them?
Lord Selward failed in all these respects. Yet Lady Rebecca claimed she needed the future earl. There was something he was not seeing. There had to be.
Either way, he’d committed to it now.
Marcus hung his head. The rough stone bit into his palms where he gripped the edge of the wall. He’d sent Lady Rebecca back into the ballroom with the promise he would follow shortly to begin their ruse.
To act besotted with her.
What special kind of hell had he agreed to?
“Do not think you can hide out here all night while I fight off the wives and widows.”
Marcus looked up. Spence stood in front of him holding two brandies. “Where did you get those?”
Spence smirked. “Never you mind. Here.” He handed one to Marcus, who took it gratefully. He tossed the drink back and winced as it burned his throat. The warmth spread through his chest.
Spence gave him a dubious look. “That was meant to be sipped.”
“Sorry.” Marcus took the second brandy from Spence’s hand despite a sputtering protest and downed it as quickly as the first.
“Bowen! Sweet Judas, man. What the hell is going on?”
It took him a moment before he could speak. He did not often imbibe and when he did, he did not shoot drinks down his throat like a man dying of thirst. When he managed to speak, his words came out strangled. “I may have done something foolish.”
Spence snorted and sat next to him. “You? I doubt that.”
Though meant as a compliment, Marcus could not escape how frighteningly dull it made him sound and for a fleeting moment he wondered if he was every bit as bland as Lord Selward. The idea did not sit well. “I agreed to court Lady Rebecca.”
“You did—” Spence’s mouth moved, but it took a minute for him to finish his sentence. “What?”
Marcus cleared his throat. “It’s a ruse meant to draw Selward’s attentions. Lady Rebecca’s idea.”
“She means to use you to make Selward jealous?”
Marcus nodded. He rubbed at his chest. Lord, how long before the brandy stopped burning? Perhaps the sensation wasn’t from the drink, but rather his body’s response to his own abject stupidity. He was not one given to rash action. He preferred to think on things. Ruminate a bit and then base his decision on cold, hard facts. But Lady Rebecca had not given him such opportunity. She’d asked and he’d acquiesced. He did not know how to say no to her, nor bear the thought she might make the request to some lack wit who then tried to make good on his chance to weasel his way into the Sheridan family.
He could not risk her being hurt. No matter the cost to him.
“Well,” Spence tilted his head to one side as if considering the matter. “I can’t say the idea doesn’t have merit. I employed a similar strategy to find Caelie a husband and was quite successful.”
“You failed miserably. You meant to find her a suitable husband other than yourself.”
“Yes, but then I determined I was the most suitable husband, to which she agreed.”
“If memory serves, she turned you down. Repeatedly.”
Spence gave him a withering look. “She agreed eventually. I think it is the final outcome that is the point here. My plan worked. I suppose there’s no reason Lady Rebecca’s won’t as well. Although, I can’t imagine what Nick will think about it. You know how protective he is over the women in his family.”
“Yes, I recall. I was the one that kept him from tearing your limbs off and beating you to death with them after he learned you’d compromised his cousin-in-law.”
“Yes. Well. Then consider me the voice of experience. Are you certain this is the best course of action? Could you not dissuade her from this?”
Marcus shook his head. “She is quite determined.”
“She is usually much more sensible,” Spence muttered. “It’s been ages since she’s gotten up to such mischief. Not since the incident at the lake, I would think.”
As a child, Rebecca had tried to keep up with the Nick, Spence and himself, to capture their attention and not be left behind. An attempt that led her to jump into a lake, despite her inability to swim. Over time, however, she had put such behavior aside and grown into a proper young lady who never gave her family any concern or worry.
Perhaps the family dynamic left her little choice. Nick had commented often that Lady Rebecca played the part of peacemaker in an attempt to buffer the contempt between himself, their mother and the late Lord Blackbourne.
Her father had been adamant she not cause the family any scandal as her brother had done his fair share to damage the family name, a dictate she had taken to heart and strove to achieve. Until tonight.
Now she dove into the lake once again, and in the process put them both in a rather untenable position.
Spence let out a slow breath. “I suppose if she is determined, she will be far safer with you playing the courting fool than some young fop who may take advantage or press his own agenda.”
“My thoughts as well,” Marcus said. Though it wasn’t Rebecca’s safety he was concerned with at the moment, but rather his own sanity. A sanity that had ebbed significantly upon his agreeing to her foolish scheme.
Spence flashed his usual grin, the one that made most of the ladies of the ton swoon, not that the man paid any heed to the effect he had on them. Since meeting his wife, it was as if all other women ceased to exist. “Well, enough of Lady Rebecca. My point in finding you was to impart some good news.”
“Oh?” He could use some good news.
“I have found the perfect woman for you.”
Marcus groaned and wished he had another brandy. Ever since Spence had done a complete turnar
ound on the subject of marriage, he’d made it his new mission in life to ensure his friend met with the same blissful fate as he had.
“And who is this perfect woman?”
“Miss Rosalind Caldwell.”
“Miss—” He looked at Spence incredulously. “You can’t be serious? What would Nick have to say about that?”
“What is there to say?” Spence shrugged. “It was her older sister that tried to trap Nick into marriage, and I have it on good authority that Rosalind is not the ruthless type. In fact, she imparted to me this very evening that she wishes to speak to you. Something about some charity with soldiers or what not. It sounds like a rather noble cause.”
“How does that make her the best choice for me?”
“Well, she’s rather bookish.”
“So we are suited because we both read?”
Spence ignored his question. “She is opinionated, I hear, but I shouldn’t think that would put you off. And Baron Caldwell is desperate to see his daughters wed before he meets his Maker—”
“Baron Caldwell is hale and hearty. I doubt he will be passing any time soon.”
“Either way. Rosalind is one and twenty and this is her third Season with nary a hint of a proposal. I’m certain Caldwell would be thrilled to promote the match. And if you find Rosalind isn’t to your liking, there is the youngest, Audrey, though I don’t think she would suit. A bit flighty and flirty, that one.”
Marcus dropped his head into his hands and rubbed at his face. When had this evening gotten so far away from him?
“I’m beginning to think cards with Lady Ellesmere and her cohorts would have been the better way to go tonight.”
Spence laughed and smacked him on the back. “Come now. Give it some thought. You can’t stay locked up in your office until the end of your days. In the meantime, you’d best return to the ballroom. I believe you have a ruse to perpetrate with our dear Lady Rebecca.”
* * *
Rebecca smiled as Lord Selward went to fetch a glass of punch. Her idea sparkled with brilliance, if she did say so herself. After two dances with Marcus, Lord Selward had made a beeline toward her to claim the next, leaving Lady Susan to circle the dance floor like a vulture. To his credit, Marcus proved to be quite charming in his own serious way, though one would never consider him chatty. Not that it mattered. She found a great comfort in his quiet presence.
