Читать книгу It’s Marriage Or Ruin - Liz Tyner - Страница 14

Marcus had watched his brother at the birthday celebration and noticed Nathaniel could not keep from observing Emilie. He could read the ideas in his brother’s mind as clearly as if they were spoken. He wanted to shove Nathaniel into the wall.

With a brief goodbye, he set out on foot, leaving the carriage for his brother.

He strode to Lady Semple’s address, letting the exertion calm him.

The butler let him in.

She sat in her chair by the fireplace and didn’t burn coal, but had a few twigs which wafted a warm comforting scent into the room.

‘So many young beauties in London, yet you have time for a moment with me.’ Her turban had a fringe of white hair escaping from it.

‘Youth has its allure, but there is much beauty to be found in the mature appearance as well.’ He bowed to her.

Her visage reminded him of a sage and the sharpness of her wit and her astute observations drew him to her. For that reason, he always spoke with Lady Semple when he saw her and he always found her conversation enlightening. Sometimes too enlightening, as she could speak about anything without a stammer or a blush, and she made him uneasy if she got carried away.

‘But I fear one must search harder for beauty in the older countenance.’ She reached to adjust her turban and her hair moved in such a way he wondered if the locks were connected to the wrap.

‘Not with you, Lady Semple.’

‘I do not have to search for your flattery, which is always appreciated and shared with my friends.’ She batted away the words. ‘Will you be joining us again this Thursday for cards?’

‘Lady Semple, that is first in my calendar.’ He moved closer.

She got to her feet, and put a hand to the small of her back. ‘Weather is changing. I’d best move or soon I won’t be able to.’

She appraised him. ‘So what brings you here? All flattery aside, as I know that you are deeply devoted to me, particularly when I am losing funds to you in a game of cards.’

‘You know my brother, Nathaniel. The one who refused to let you win the money back.’

‘Without spectacles, I can scarce tell you apart from a distance.’ She stopped him, reaching out. She tucked away a piece of his neckcloth which had escaped his waistcoat. ‘But, I doubt I’ve spoken to Mr Westbrook in years.’

‘Occasionally people mistake me for my brother and he for me. If I am in the act of doing something well, I correct them.’ They moved into an alcove. ‘If I am not so sure of my actions, I thank them for their greeting. He said he is the same.’

‘I am sure you must always correct them.’

‘Of course.’ He smiled, putting innocence into his words and following them with an exaggerated leer. Her laugh would have fitted a tavern woman.

‘And what of Miss Emilie Catesby? Are you well acquainted with her family?’ He kept his voice bland, but her reaction told him she read the direction of his reasoning.

‘Miss Catesby. I’ve heard her mentioned.’ She straightened the turban, again moving the silver fringe. ‘You’ve not asked me in the past if I know of any female. You tend to know much more about the young women of the ton than I do.’

‘I suspect she has been brought to London to find out if any of the men might suit her as a husband.’

‘That is what I’ve heard also. I’ve also been told she’s had no beau because it would limit her time at a canvas. Her mother has brought her to search among the rakes of the ton for a suitable husband. A shame. With the exception of yourself, many men in this town might blind her to their follies so they could make an offer for her. I know from experience that can happen.’

‘Do you predict I might not be able to do that?’ he asked, smiling.

‘I assumed you had no follies to blind her to.’ She touched her ear.

‘I would hope not.’

‘I am sure.’ She paused. ‘How well do you know her?’

‘Hardly at all. She’s got some connection to Wilson, the Duke of Kinsale—and the Duchess has seen that Miss Catesby has many events to attend. Perhaps in search of a romance.’

‘Sad to have a parent pushing offspring to do such a thing. Your father is still pressing you to marry, isn’t he?’

Marcus remained silent.

She laughed. ‘Do not let him give you that old rubbish about dying without holding a grandchild. He will likely outlive us all. By many years.’ She smiled. ‘Remember, whom the gods love dies young.’ Her lids dropped. ‘Please pass that information along to him from me. He is so forgetful. The type who might forget a secret betrothal.’

‘You and I both know he has never truly forgotten it.’

Elbows tucked at her side, she shrugged. ‘Good. But we both ended up the better for it. Except…’

Except his mother. ‘She is not thrilled with him. Perhaps, they share a bond that is between them. They occasionally share a few civil words. Much more recently than they have in many years.’

‘I do feel better for your telling me that. He didn’t treat either her or me fairly.’

‘Mother has also mentioned a grandchild and how she feels inferior to the others who natter on and on about the accomplishments of their cherubs.’

Lady Semple sighed. ‘That is a first, isn’t it?’

‘Yes. But the volume of my parents’ discussions hasn’t lessened. It’s best if they communicate by message or letter. Mother has her discreet lady’s maid read Father’s letters aloud and the woman omits irritating references. It is the best for everyone and Father doesn’t know.’

‘If it works for them.’

‘Once the lady’s maid read three pages, gave her an awkward cough and said, He judges you are in good health. Then Mother pointed to the fire and the maid tossed the letter in.’

Marcus had reasoned that moving out of the family home would distance himself from two things: the rows his parents had on the rare occasions they spoke and the opinions of his father. Nathaniel hadn’t even asked Marcus if he could move in, just followed with his belongings a few days later. Now their father showed up on a whim, questioning them about their pursuits and chiding them on their responsibilities.

‘And now your mother has joined in?’

‘Yes.’

‘Your father does like to get his way. Like his sons.’

‘I would agree. We are more alike than I aspire to be.’

‘Many of the women here have tried to catch your eye, have they not?’ Lady Semple asked.

‘I cannot say for certain.’ He clasped his hands behind his back.

‘I can,’ she insisted, ‘as I have watched on the occasions you have graced us with your presence. At least, I think it was you,’ she teased. ‘Perhaps they were searching for Mr Westbrook.’

‘Well, if the women have tried to catch my attention, then you must assume they were hunting for me and not my brother.’ The earlier irritation returned to him.

Emilie hadn’t pretended to mistake him for Nathaniel. She really had.

Lady Semple clasped his arm.

‘Don’t marry to spite your father or to please your mother.’

‘It would seem a simple task.’

‘Your father forsook love to please your grandparents. That turned out wonderfully for your father, to a point, and the best for me, but he’s fortunate your mother hasn’t smothered him in his sleep.’

‘They tend to sleep in different residences.’

‘Ever stuck your hand in the fire to see how hot it is?’ the older woman asked, eyebrows arched.

‘If a woman is on the way to nuptials above all else, what difference would one rake over another make?’ he asked.

‘This could be interesting.’ Lady Semple chortled. ‘I will watch to see what happens. Would you invite me to see such a thing? That is the only way I would believe it.’

‘I will keep your words in mind. But I don’t know that my mother would appreciate it.’

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘We’ve spoken.’

‘You have?’ he asked.

‘After I was out of mourning for my husband, she approached me and told me that I had been indeed fortunate to have had the love of two husbands, one mine and one hers. She asked how I did it.’

Marcus didn’t speak. He couldn’t.

‘I told her. The truth.’

‘What?’

‘It is the enigma many women have and they don’t know it. They believe it is brains. Or beauty. But really it is joie de vivre.’ She held her hand close to her throat, as if pulling her spirit from her body. ‘A sense of fun.’

Marcus watched her.

‘Yes.’ Suddenly her age fell away and she cavorted as if on gilded slippers. ‘When I am about in London, have you ever seen me act any way but as if I am at a soirée? A soirée of grand proportions. That the world is a game and I have the winning hand.’

‘It’s true.’ He recalled the first day he had seen Emilie and the way that she—even though they were both young and he was twice her size—had called herself a highwayman.

Then, today, Nathaniel had found time for a private conversation with her. But he was certain Nathaniel saw her as a conquest, nothing more.

‘I hope you would like to see me close to a spirited woman like Miss Catesby, not Nathaniel. I admit I have not always done as I should, but he often gives the notion he would prefer to never do as he should.’

‘You must mend your ways for me to encourage a romance.’

‘A flawed concept, but entertaining.’

‘You men do like your entertainments.’

‘Agreed.’

He scrutinised her expression and thought of the lively and forthright conversations they’d had and he didn’t think he could be wrong in his assessment of her. Although he didn’t always admire her choices, he admired her discretion.

She snorted, making her hair flutter. ‘Don’t forget to join us for cards. I love having a man of your age visiting me.’ She raised her brows. ‘Please be dishevelled as you leave.’

‘Only if you agree to have a chaperon.’

She let her eyes drift heavenwards. ‘Josephina, Millie and Meg will be there. That will give us enough to complete the table.’

‘Plan on it.’

He departed, ruminating on the misery a union could bring and the knowledge that he couldn’t put it off indefinitely.

His father had claimed matrimony to be much like thrusting oneself on to a blade, but the bloodletting was very necessary for the peerage.

If one must be impaled, Emilie would not be as bad as others. However, he was not so sure Emilie wouldn’t choose Nathaniel over him. But, still, his attention kept following her.

He strongly doubted Emilie could ever ignore a man’s indiscretions.

No, he suspected Emilie would react much as his mother had. Fire and brimstone.

Now he could not shut the memory of Emilie dancing from his mind.

She had swirled across the floor.

He forgot her elegance for a moment and could see the image of her creamy breasts above the bodice of her gown and realised instantly he must put his mind elsewhere.