A Pledge of Passion (The Rules of Engagement #2)(30)

"Then you are already superior to almost any other man she might marry. Do you suppose Rochford will give up gaming or mistresses for her?"

"Not bloody likely," Nick scoffed. "I won't have it, Marcus. I'm not about to give her up to some worthless sod who will only hurt her."

"Then what are you going to do about it?"

"I'm damned if I know." Nick took a long drink of brandy, shutting his eyes to the slow burn as it slid down his throat. "Rochford sent me here. Honor compels me to do as I promised him. I can't betray his trust, Marcus, but I'll be damned if I'll let him have her. There is no question in my mind that she would be desperately unhappy with him."

Marcus thoughtfully swirled the liquid remaining in his glass. "Then who is to say she would even accept him? If you were to propose on his behalf and she refused the proposal, you would have no option but to find Rochford another bride."

Nick frowned. "You aren't suggesting sabotage?"

"Nothing of the kind, my friend," Marcus replied lazily. "There is absolutely no need to besmirch the prospective groom. You only need to allow the facts to speak for themselves. You must simply present the reality of what a marriage to Rochford would be."

"Marcus, you are a bloody genius!" Nick exclaimed. "I was so self-absorbed in my misery that I couldn't see the obvious." Nick drained his drink and set down the glass with a sigh of relief. He finally had some semblance of a plan. Now all that remained was its execution. Nick waved his hand as Marcus reached to pour another drink. "I haven't time, I'm afraid. 'Tis four days’ travel to Derbyshire. I must be off at once."

"Derbyshire would be a wasted trip," Marcus said.

Nick froze. "What are you saying? Has she already accepted someone?"

"Not what I mean, ol' man. Mariah isn't in Derbyshire."

"How the devil would you know?"

"Because she's due to arrive in London today. She will be staying with my mother at Russell House."

"Why the hell didn't you tell me to begin with?" Nick snapped.

"Marcus's mouth stretched into a slow smirk. "Because you didn't ask me."





CHAPTER TEN





"Love works a different way in different minds,

The fool it enlightens, the wise it blinds." - John Dryden





"YOU HAVE A CALLER, Lady Mariah," the footman announced. Mariah's hands froze on her needlework. Lydia and Lady Russell raised their brows in unison as the servant crossed the morning room to offer her a gold-embossed calling card.

"Who do you suppose it could be? I don't know a soul in London." Bewildered, she accepted the card and turned it over, only to grow even more puzzled. "Lord Rochford?"

"Rochford?" Lady Russell repeated. "I thought he was in Turin."

"He was," Lydia confirmed. "Perhaps he has returned for the king's celebration? He was, after all, one of the treaty's chief engineers."

"But why on earth would he wish to call on me?" Mariah asked.

"My dear," Lady Russell began in a maternal tone, "it is hardly the mystery you would make of it. You only need ask yourself, what is the primary motive when an unwed, titled gentleman calls on an unwed, titled lady? Did he not once imply his interest in you?"

"But that was over a year ago,” Mariah said. "I have heard nothing from him since our first meeting at Woburn Abbey."

"Most men are wont to drag their feet in matters matrimonial," Lady Russell explained. "But perhaps his circumstances have changed, just as yours have."

"Yes. Mine have changed." A year ago, she would not have given the least thought to anyone of Rochford's ilk, but now, what did it matter?

"Are you at home, madam?" the footman inquired.

Mariah looked in panic to Lady Russell.

"Rogers," Lady Russell smoothly interceded, "please order some tea and show Lord Rochford to the drawing room."

"Of course, madam," Rogers bowed in reply.

"Thank you, my lady," Mariah said. "But I don't even know what to say to him."

"Then let him do the talking, my dear. Gentlemen rarely listen to a thing we say anyway. If it helps your unease, Lydia and I will take tea with you and discreetly excuse ourselves if and when it appears judicious to do so."

"You are all that is gracious, Lady Russell.” Setting down the linen gown she was embroidering for the baby, Mariah stood and shook out the skirts of her yellow chintz morning gown and removed her apron. "Should I change?"

"You look charming, my dear," Lady Russell assured her. "A gentleman should expect some informality when calling upon a lady at such an unfashionably early hour. Pray greet your guest, Mariah. Lydia and I will follow anon."

"Yes, my lady." Mariah departed the morning room as square-shouldered and stiff-backed as if she were preparing to face a firing squad.

As she crossed from the back of the house to the front drawing room, she tried to conjure Lord Rochford's face and failed, surprising after having spent an entire evening in his company. She only recalled that he was tall, slender of build, and fair-haired. Yet Nick's golden-brown eyes and bare hint of a smile were still fresh in her mind.