The Marriage Lesson

by Victoria Alexander

  He stepped to Marianne and cast her his most devastating smile. The very one that had served him so well in the past. The smile virtually guaranteed to melt the resistance of even the most resilient woman. He took her hand and raised it to his lips. His smile never faltered. His gaze caught hers.

  “My dear Lady Marianne. I trust you are well this morning?”

  “Odd that he remembers her name,” Jocelyn said in a sidelong whisper to Becky just loud enough for him to hear.

  He ignored her, his gaze lingering on Marianne’s.

  “Quite.” She stared back at him, her eyes twinkled with amusement. “And what of you, my lord? Did you sleep well? No unusual dreams or disturbing visions late in the night?”

  “Odd perhaps but not in the least disturbing.” He couldn’t resist a grin. “Although I daresay I shan’t be troubled in the future.”

  “Oh?” She raised a skeptical brow. “Then you intend to give up evenings of drunken revelry?”

  “Not at all.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice, his words meant for her ears alone. “I was not drunk and I intend to find you a husband as quickly as possible to take you in hand and keep you from accosting virtual strangers in libraries late at night.”

  “We shall see, my lord,” she said softly, the corners of her mouth curving upward in a decidedly superior manner. “We shall see.”

  He’d dismissed her parting comment last night as being nothing more than the effect of the brandy, but today those same words carried a distinct challenge. A challenge he was more than willing to meet. And enjoy. And best. She withdrew her hand but her gaze lingered on his.

  “This is the dancing master, Monsieur Sabatier.” Lady Dragon nodded toward a fashionably dressed man who surveyed him with an expression of haughty superiority.

  “Good day, my lord,” the Frenchman said in a pronounced accent and bowed in a too courtly manner. “We are most grateful for your assistance. You do us a great honor.” A polite smile hovered on his lips but a speculative gleam flashed in his eye.

  “Monsieur Sabatier has done an excellent job.” Lady Dragon nodded with approval.

  “You are too kind, madame.”

  “I’m sure he has,” Thomas murmured and studied the other man discreetly.

  Although Monsieur Sabatier’s clothes were the height of fashion, closer inspection showed they were well-worn, not unexpected given his means of making a living. The Frenchmen himself bore further scrutiny much better than his attire. It was obvious the breadth of his shoulders and fit of his jacket owed little to the skill of a tailor. His face was surprisingly handsome—too handsome, in Thomas’s opinion, for someone entrusted with teaching young ladies to dance. Sabatier was not at all like any dancing master Thomas had ever met.

  “This is their final lesson and yet I feel they still need a bit more practice,” Lady Dragon said. “Unfortunately, Monsieur Sabatier’s other obligations prohibit him from staying beyond today’s allotted time.”

  “A thousand pardons, madame. I regret any inconvenience, but I have an appointment of some importance.” Monsieur Sabatier smiled apologetically and Thomas could have sworn a collective sigh went up from the three younger women. He wasn’t entirely certain Lady Dragon hadn’t joined them.

  “You have done more than expected, Monsieur.” Lady Dragon returned his smile. “We are in your debt.”

  “It is my business, madame, mademoiselles.” Monsieur Sabatier bowed slightly. “And my pleasure.” He nodded at Thomas, then turned and strode down the long ballroom.

  The gazes of all four females followed him as one.

  Thomas cleared his throat. “Ladies?” Three, perhaps four, wistful expressions turned toward him. “The dance?”

  “Ah, yes.” Lady Dragon was once more a commanding presence, but for a moment he wondered if he hadn’t had a glimpse of the girl she might have been. “It’s the waltz I’m concerned with. I am not overly familiar with it. If you ask my nieces, they will tell you I am older than the earth beneath my feet and will swear to you my own days in London were spent when Elizabeth was queen. There was no waltz then. They will further inform you the earth itself will shake should I so much as crack a smile.”

  “And will it?” Thomas grinned.

  “Yes.” Lady Dragon stepped away and seated herself at the pianoforte. “I will play and you may begin with Lady Rebecca.”

  “Becky,” the youngest said under her breath.

  “Lady”—Thomas bit back a smile—“Becky.” He swept a polished bow, indulging in the satisfaction of knowing it was every bit as good as Sabatier’s. Perhaps better. “Will you honor me with this dance?”

  “Of course, my lord.” Becky bobbed a curtsy, smiled and placed her hand on his arm.

  He escorted her out onto the floor and took her in his arms. For a few moments they circled the room in silence.

  He glanced at Becky and smiled. “I believe your aunt has underestimated you.”

  She looked up at him. “Do you?”

  “Monsieur Sabatier has taught you well.” Reluctantly, he acknowledged a touch of gratitude for the Frenchman’s skill. If Thomas didn’t have to pay constant attention to leading her through the steps, he could concentrate on much more important matters. “So tell me, my dear, are you looking forward to the season?”

  “He really is a fine figure of a man.” Jocelyn squinted at the dancers. She couldn’t see well past a distance of about ten feet but vehemently refused to even consider wearing spectacles.

  “Indeed he is.” Marianne nodded. “Still, there is the problem of his character to consider. He is arrogant and quite annoying.”

  Jocelyn slanted her a suspicious look. “That’s the second time today you’ve made such a comment. I find it difficult to believe you are simply making assumptions based on nothing more than his lack of attention to us. You’ve never been one to leap to misguided conclusions. Come, now, Marianne, what do you know about the man that we don’t?”

  Marianne sighed. “I simply had the opportunity to chat with him for a few minutes last night in the library.”

  “Did you?” Jocelyn raised a brow. “How very interesting. Almost as interesting as the fact that you would keep such a rendezvous secret.”

  “It wasn’t exactly a secret. And it certainly wasn’t a rendezvous.” Marianne shrugged as if the encounter meant nothing. “I simply didn’t think it merited mention.”

  Jocelyn snorted in disbelief. “You didn’t think a late-night rendezvous—”

  “A chance meeting.”

  “—with the heir to a dukedom, no less, was worth mentioning?” Jocelyn shook her head. “I don’t believe you for a moment.”

  “Nonetheless, it’s true.”

  “Um-hm.” Jocelyn studied her curiously. “So what did he do to annoy you so?”

  He refused to kiss me again. Marianne ignored the thought that was every bit as irritating as the man himself. And ignored as well how very much she enjoyed that kiss. “For one thing, he seems to be taking his responsibilities toward us as guardian or protector or whatever he is entirely too seriously. I daresay between him and Aunt Louella none of us will be able to so much as breathe without notice. For another, he is not at all happy to have us here—”

  Jocelyn laughed. “That’s scarcely surprising.”

  “And he has a plan to rid himself of us.”

  “What?” Jocelyn scoffed. “Does he plan to bash us over the head and bury us all in the garden?”

  “Worse,” Marianne said grimly. “He plans to find us all husbands.”

  “The beast.” Jocelyn paused and her brow furrowed. “Perhaps I’ve missed a significant point, but what is so terrible about that? Given his wealth, position and family, the man knows everyone who is anyone. Why, with his help we can all make exceptional marriages.”

  “Indeed we could. However, he wishes to marry us off as quickly as possible. Tomorrow would not be too soon for him.” Marianne leaned closer in a confidential manner. “It appears our demand
s on his attention hinder his own efforts to find a bride.”

  “I see,” Jocelyn said thoughtfully.

  Marianne narrowed her eyes. “Exactly what do you see?”

  “Well,” Jocelyn words were measured, “if indeed he is looking for a bride, he has three eligible matches right under his roof.”

  “Oh? I suppose you’re willing to step forward and sacrifice yourself on the altar of matrimony? After all, Helmsley will be the Duke of Roxborough one day. Precisely the kind of match you have always wanted.” The words came out much sharper than Marianne had intended and she cringed at the sound of them. Why on earth was the thought of Jocelyn setting her cap for Thomas so disquieting?

  Jocelyn paid no heed to her sister’s tone and studied the dancers with narrowed eyes, as if that would somehow bring them into focus. “Don’t be ridiculous. Duke or not, I was serious when I said I have no intention of marrying during my first season. To settle on Helmsley at this point would be akin to picking the first apple of the year without regard to the sweeter fruit to come.”

  “Still, that first apple can be quite tasty,” Marianne said under her breath, recalling the intriguing flavor of brandy on warm male lips.

  “No, I wasn’t thinking of Helmsley for myself at all.” Jocelyn cast her a sly smile. “I was thinking about you.”

  “Me?” Marianne started. “I have no desire to marry this season or any other. And certainly no desire to marry Helmsley.”

  “Oh, you needn’t actually marry him,” Jocelyn said blithely. “But if you occupy his time, he’ll be far too busy to pay much notice to anything Becky or I do.”

  “I hate to spoil what is an impressive and obviously well thought out plan, but it won’t work. I am not at all the type of woman he is looking for.”

  “Are you certain?”

  I want a woman who will be biddable and soft-spoken. Marianne nodded and ignored a twinge of what might have been regret. “Quite.”

  “Pity.” Jocelyn thought for a moment, then her expression brightened. “Very well then, you can still keep him busy trying to find a match for you and you alone.”

  “And why would he want to do that?”

  “Why, we will make certain he understands we couldn’t possibly marry before you since you’re the oldest.” Jocelyn smiled wickedly. “We’ll tell him it’s a family tradition. That it simply wouldn’t be right if we married before you. It would be . . . rude.”

  “Oh, and we can’t have that,” Marianne said dryly.

  “We’ll make him believe that if he can marry you off, Becky and I will fall in line right behind you and he will be rid of us all.”

  “Lambs to the matrimonial slaughter?”

  “Exactly.” Jocelyn nodded with satisfaction.

  “I see. However, I do have one question. I understand the benefits of your proposal for you and Becky, but,” Marianne crossed her arms over her chest, “what, dear sister, are the benefits for me?”

  “I would think that’s obvious.” Jocelyn’s expression was smug.

  “Obvious? I can’t imagine . . . ” She stared at Thomas, a tall, broad-shouldered, confident figure in perfect command of the steps.

  “Think about it, Marianne. Whether you are carrying on a flirtation with Helmsley or the dozens of suitors he will no doubt throw at you—”

  “I would have no end of amusing experiences from which to draw on for my stories. No end of . . . adventures,” Marianne murmured. A man in perfect command of his life.

  “Indeed. And isn’t Helmsley in truth—”

  “The kind of man I can write about,” she said more to herself than her sister. A man in perfect command of his world. The kind of man I can—

  “And we will be free to enjoy the season without interference from anyone other than Aunt Louella.” Jocelyn’s tone jerked Marianne’s attention from the unfinished thought. Mischief sounded in the younger girl’s tone. “And we both know she cannot watch more than one of us at once.”

  The music drifted to a close and Thomas and Becky started toward them across the long ballroom.

  Jocelyn leaned closer to Marianne, her voice low but insistent. “Well?”

  A faint flush colored Becky’s cheeks, from the exertion of the dance no doubt or perhaps Thomas’s charms. It was he who fully captured Marianne’s attention. He moved with a fluid, masculine grace, and the oddest sensation fluttered in her stomach.

  “Think of the adventures.” Jocelyn’s voice carried a tempting note.

  Becky said something to him and he laughed, a fascinating, male sound that resounded in her blood.

  “And you do need adventures to write about,” Jocelyn added.

  Thomas and Becky drew closer.

  “And I do want them to be my adventures,” Marianne said softly. Adventures with Thomas? A thrill raced through her at the thought.

  Thomas caught Marianne’s eye and grinned and she noted once again that it was an extremely nice smile. The kind of smile a woman could lose her head over.

  “Excellent, Becky.” Aunt Louella’s voice sounded behind them.

  “I must say, Lady Louella, she has learned her lessons well.” Thomas chuckled. “Why, we scarcely trod on one another’s toes at all.”

  Becky laughed and bobbed a curtsy. “Thank you, my lord. I had an excellent partner.”

  “As well as an excellent teacher,” Aunt Louella said. “Now, then, Marianne—”

  “I believe it’s my turn.” Jocelyn stepped toward Thomas and cast him a dazzling smile. “My lord?”

  “My pleasure.” Thomas nodded and extended his arm. Jocelyn placed her hand on it and he escorted her onto the dance floor.

  Marianne stared after them. What would be the harm? She had no intention of marrying anyone and she certainly wasn’t what Thomas had in mind for a wife. Thomas’s efforts to find her a match would surely be entertaining and it would provide endless possibilities for her writing. Why, hadn’t he already unwittingly helped her write her first story? A story she had every confidence would soon appear on the pages of Cadwallender’s Weekly World Messenger.

  Besides, she wasn’t at all averse to his company even if he was more than a little arrogant. Although he certainly was charming enough today. And there was always the possibility of another kiss. Or two. Or more.

  She should have thought of it herself. After all, wasn’t Thomas Lord W to her country miss?

  Jocelyn glanced at Marianne over her shoulder and raised a questioning brow.

  Marianne shrugged in feigned resignation and nodded. Jocelyn winked then turned her full attention to Thomas.

  If it wasn’t for the sense of anticipation bubbling up inside her, Marianne would almost feel sorry for him. His plan to marry them off quickly was doomed before it began. His efforts would surely provide her with all sorts of interesting experiences to spin into The Adventures of a Country Miss in London. In addition, the poor man wouldn’t have so much as a minute to spare to search for a bride of his own.

  It was curious, though. At the moment Marianne wasn’t sure which result of Jocelyn’s plot she relished more.

  Chapter 4

  . . . and every afternoon those members of society who wish to indulge in gossip and flirtation take themselves to Hyde Park, where they ride in carriages or on horseback or stroll the paths in a unique display of fashion and manners. It is a most impressive parade.

  Lord W has taken me once and I do hope he does so again, for I quite enjoyed myself, although he was reticent to introduce me to anyone. For a moment I feared he was ashamed of my country-bred bearing. Then I noted the odd gleam in his eye, gone as fast as it had appeared.

  Dear cousin, it was a look of possession such as I have never seen in man nor beast. Terror filled me at the sight; yet, I must admit, even in my fear, I was more than a little thrilled. . . .

  The Adventures of a Country Miss in London

  “It is exceedingly kind of you to take us to the park this afternoon.” Marianne strolled at Thomas’s side and sla
nted him a glance from beneath thick lashes. The younger girls walked a few steps in front of them. “Especially since it was only yesterday that you managed to fit us into your busy schedule at all.”

  “Yes, well, I can be exceedingly kind when the occasion calls for it,” Thomas said with a grin. “Although admittedly it was scarcely a sacrifice to spend a few minutes waltzing with beautiful women. I daresay I will be the envy of every man in the park with the three of you by my side.”

  “Are you showing us off, then?” Marianne tilted her head. “Like wares to prospective buyers?”

  “Not at all.” Genuine indignation flooded him. “My intention in escorting you here was nothing of the sort.”

  “Only because you didn’t think of it,” she said primly.

  “My dear lady, I . . . ” His denial ground to a halt. Displaying them was an excellent idea and he should have thought of it. He ignored the realization and adopted his sincerest manner. “I simply think this is the least I can do to make up for the disgraceful lack of attention I have paid you and your sisters since your arrival.” Even to his own ears it didn’t ring true.

  “Yes, it is. However, I do hope we have not inconvenienced you, pulling you from the comfort of hearth and home to brave the crowds of Hyde Park.” The corners of her mouth quirked upward slightly as if she were holding back a smile.

  At once he realized, regardless of her other charges, she knew exactly why he had proposed they join the parade of those wishing to see and be seen who frequented the park every afternoon. And it had little to do with his effort at being a gracious host.

  “There is scarcely any difference today between the crowds here and those at Effington House,” he said wryly.