It’s Marriage Or Ruin. Liz Tyner

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      ‘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.

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