A Pledge of Passion (The Rules of Engagement #2)(27)

Yes. And it's almost more than I can bear.

"No, my lord. Are you dissatisfied with my work? Am I being sacked?"

"No, man! It's nothing like that." Rochford waved his hand in the air. "Your work is above reproach. It's just your absence of joie de vivre is rather . . . depressing."

Nick forced a smile to his stiff lips. "I will endeavor to improve."

"Needham, the Foreign Service is not for everyone. Have you ever considered seeking a domestic post?"

"That has not been a viable option to me, my lord. Indeed, I count myself most fortunate to be in your employ." Eager to divert the discussion away from his personal life, Nick began sorting through the official letters that had just arrived in the post. "You have a letter from His Majesty, my lord."

The earl sighed. "Then I suppose I must put off my hunt with the duke to answer him."

Nick crossed the expanse of pink-veined marble tiles to offer the elaborately sealed parchment to his employer. He then returned to his own desk in preparation to pen the earl's response, waiting patiently with quill poised as Rochford broke the seal and scanned the missive. After a moment, he threw it down with a curse. "Damnation! How the hell did the Duchess of Bedford get wind of La Bella Banti?"

The earl referred to his latest mistress, a flamboyant Italian opera dancer. Nick didn't answer that Rochford's lack of discretion was a constant source of court gossip in Turin. His latest mistress was particular trouble. She thrived on notoriety and may well have encouraged the spread of rumors. Nick refrained from comment, knowing his silence would prompt the earl to elaborate.

"It seems the Duchess of Bedford has expressed her disapproval of my keeping an Italian mistress," he continued in disgust, "and has convinced the king that I should wed. Why in infernal blazes must they concern themselves with my personal affairs? Just look at this Needham!" Rochford took to his feet and strode across the room. He slammed the parchment down on Needham's desk and stabbed it with a be-ringed index finger.

"She has even generously provided His Majesty with a list of vetted candidates!"

"Shall I congratulate you on your pending nuptials?" Nick asked.

Rochford returned a glare. "Now is not the time to regain your humor, Needham!" Rochford exhaled a martyr's sigh. "I suppose you are right though. There's naught to do now but accept my fate, given that his Majesty has all but commanded it."

"How do you intend to proceed?" Nick asked. "Will you return to London?"

"No. I cannot leave here," Rochford replied. "With the peace so newly minted, relations are still in a state of utter turmoil. I have no time to waste in wooing a bride. 'Tis a pointless pursuit anyway. They need husbands, and I need heirs. Now that I think upon it, this situation couldn't suit me better. I will remain here and attend to affairs of state and send my agent to England to attend to affairs matrimonial. Needham, it seems you may get your wish after all."

"What do you mean?"

"Given your impeccable manners and unimpeachable sense of discretion, I cannot think of a man better suited for this mission. I will send you to attend to this business in my stead."

"You wish me to negotiate your marriage?"

"Indeed I do. I will make it quite worth your while. Should you accept this commission and succeed in bringing the matter to a swift and mutually satisfactory conclusion, I will personally secure you a post in London in the department of your choosing."

Nick's heart raced. Could it be that he had his chance after all? Rochford had just promised him precisely what he needed to claim Mariah's hand. The earl's offer was everything he'd wished and hoped for, but had it come too late? He'd posted the letter weeks ago. Surely she'd already received it.

"I would need some direction on how you wish to proceed."

"Of course." The earl smiled. "I already eliminated seven of the ten names at a glance. I refuse to take a wife I would have to bed under cover of darkness. As to those remaining, I would have you discover their temperaments, whether there is madness or disfigurement amongst their respective families, and of course the extent of property and dowry that would be transferred upon marriage. You will then choose the best amongst them and negotiate the settlements."

"You don't wish to meet your prospective bride?"

"It is unnecessary that I do so," Rochford replied. "I only desire that she be biddable and beddable. I won't suffer a shrew or a hag. Other than that, I care little." Rochford picked up a quill, dipped it into the ink pot, and began striking names from the list. He then handed it to Nick.

Nick glanced down at the three remaining names—Lady Albinia Albright, eldest daughter of the eponymous marquess; Lady Georgiana Throckmorton, youngest daughter of the Earl of Westmoreland; and . . . the last made his pulse come to life with a deafening roar: Lady Mariah Morehaven, Baroness of Morehaven in her own right.

Nick stared dumbly at her name, his pulse hammering. "Is this the order of preference, my lord?" he asked carefully.

"Not precisely. I seem to recall we have a mutual acquaintance in Lady Mariah," Rochford said. "I am informed that her father has recently passed on, which compels her to wed. I briefly considered making her an offer once before, but her conversation was so lackluster that I lost interest. Nevertheless, she was passable in every other capacity. You may begin with her, Needham. She has inherited extensive properties in addition to a large fortune, which makes her the obvious choice. Unless you discover some other defect in her, you may move forward on my behalf."