A Pledge of Passion (The Rules of Engagement #2)(44)

“What does she write?” Marcus asked, his impatience growing with his agitation.

Nicholas broke the seal and scanned the contents. He looked up at Marcus with a chuckle. “Why, it appears you may get your wish for perpetual bachelorhood after all. She wants to end your engagement.”

Marcus started from his chair. “The hell she does! What’s possessed her?”

“Perhaps she realizes your extreme reluctance to tie the knot after waiting…what is it? Five years since your betrothal announcement?”

“Six,” Marcus snapped. “But who’s counting.”

“Perhaps Miss Trent?” Nick needled with a quirk of his lips.

Lord Russell squelched his secretary with a darkling look. “Read it to me, Nick.”

“By all means.” Nicholas cleared his throat. “‘My Dear Lord Russell, I pray this finds you in good health.’” Nick paused. “I say, my lord, that’s quite a moving salutation from your beloved.”

“Enough of the commentary,” Marcus growled. “Just read the damned thing!”

“‘I was indeed in expectation of your answer after sending our melancholy news six months hence, but I quite understand the unreliability of foreign mail service and am thankful that my last letter found you safely, given your extensive foreign travels.’”

“You see, Needham? The caprice of foreign mail. It’s an excuse that works every time.”

Nicholas looked up from the page. “Indeed? Yet, I almost detect a hint of skepticism in her words.”

Recalling her adoration, Lord Russell’s lips curved into a smug half-smile. “From Lydia? Don’t be absurd.”

“Nevertheless, she’ll surely expect a prompt reply this time, given our own English mail suffers no such erratic service. Shall I continue?” Nick asked.

Lord Russell nodded, abandoning all of his prior affectation. “Go on then. What else does she say?” He tilted his head in a more active listening posture as Nicholas read.

As you must know, we have had both full hands and heavy hearts here at Cotesfield Hall following dear Papa’s unanticipated demise. Although he had wished to see you and I settled before his passing, as I am yet unmarried, the estate will now fall to Cousin James, whose wife seems somewhat eager to see me settled…elsewhere.

I must also confess to the same desire, but given your continued reticence to set a firm date for our nuptials, I am confident you will have no reservations regarding my respectful appeal to release me from our marriage contract.

I look forward to your reply and am…

Sincerely yours,

Miss Lydia Albinia Trent

Nicholas dropped the letter into Marcus’ lap. “Succinctly written, and she hardly appears to have spent any tears over it,” he drawled.

“Damn the impudence of the chit!”

“But I thought you had no desire to marry her.”

“That’s not quite the case, Needham. I actually have no particular aversion to Lydia.” Nicholas regarded him blank-faced, forcing Marcus into an exasperated explanation. “You see, my friend, it’s not the idea of marriage that repels me, just the reality of it.”

“Then where’s the rub? She has set you free.”

“But you don’t understand at all. I was more than content with Lydia as my betrothed, just not as my wife. She has been my shield all these years, don’t you see? Only my attachment to her has protected me from all the ambitious mamas who only seek ties to a dukedom, even if remote ones. If I am freed, my life will become a purgatory of simpering debutantes.”

“Surely a living hell,” Nick replied.

“Precisely.” Marcus answered, ignoring the sarcasm. “And there is still the matter of her significant dowry. Should I release Lydia, God knows how long it could take to find another such prospect, let alone one acceptable to my family.”

“I can see the dilemma. The Duke of Bedford would hardly look favorably upon any of his family matched with some merchant chit.”

“Nor does my uncle wish to see me living indefinitely out of his pocket. I need a bride with a healthy dowry, Needham, and to be truthful, I haven’t the inclination to expend the effort of wooing another.”

“But you never truly wooed the first time,” Nicholas corrected.

“Precisely.” Marcus smiled. “Thank God I was saved that indignity. Our families arranged the entire business. I just showed up for the celebratory toasts. Poor thing was barely out of the schoolroom at the time. Quite a colorless little creature she was, though she did hold some promise.” Marcus’ lips quirked at the hazy memory of a young girl, whose blushing innocence he had corrupted under the tree swing.

His smile then altered into an exasperated grimace. “Now, this letter? Damn it all! I can’t afford this kind of distraction right now, not with final peace negotiations with France imminent. If I ever wish to advance beyond the post of undersecretary, we must accompany Lord Sandwich to Aix-la-Chapelle. If I don’t, the consular position I’ve worked three years for will surely fall to some far less deserving sod. It’s an opportunity I can’t afford to miss.”

“Do you not think taking a wife would be expected at such a point in your career?”

“I had hoped to postpone the dreaded deed, but I suppose you are right.” Marcus heaved a martyr’s sigh. “Perhaps I am only kicking at the pricks and fighting the inevitable.”