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LORD
JOHN MARCHMAN
“I
remember your laugh, too,” he said, smiling, “I thought it
was the loveliest sound imaginable. So much so that
between it and our delightful conversation I felt very
much at ease in your company.” Realizing he’d just
flattered her, he flushed, tugged at his neckcloth, and
self-consciously looked away.
Seeing his discomfort, Elizabeth waited until he’d
recovered his composure and was looking at her. “I
remember you, too,” she said, tipping her head sideways,
when he started to turn his head and refusing to let him
break their gaze. “I do,: she said quietly and honestly.
“I had forgotten until just a moment ago.”
He
looked gratified and puzzled as he leaned back in his
chair and studied her. “Why did you choose to reconsider
my proposal, when I scarcely made the merest impression on
you?”
He
was so nice, so kind, that Elizabeth felt she owed him a
truthful answer. Moreover, she was rapidly revising her
opinion of Lord Marchman’s acuity. Now that the
possibility of romantic involvement had vanished, his
speech had become incisive and his perception alarmingly
astute.
“You
might as well confide the whole of it to me, you know,” he
urged, smiling as he read her thoughts. “I’m not quite the
simpleton I’m sure I’ve seemed to be. It is only that I am
not . . . er . . . comfortable around females in a
courtship situation. Since I am not going to be your
husband, however,” he said with only a twinge of regret,
“perhaps we could be friends?”
Elizabeth knew instinctively that he would not mock her
situation of she explained it, and that he would continue
probing until she did. “it was my uncle’s decision,’ she
said with an embarrassing smile, trying to gloss matters
over and still explain to him why he’d been through his
inconvenience. “My uncle has no children, you see, and he
is most determ – that is, concerned – to see me well wed.
he knew of those gentlemen who’d offered for me – and so
my uncle – that is to say . . .” Elizabeth trailed off
helplessly. It was not easy to explain as she’d hoped.
“Selected me?” the earl suggested.
Elizabeth nodded.
“Amazing. I distinctly recall hearing that you’d had
several – no, many offers of marriage the Season we met.
Yet your uncle chose me. I must say I’m flattered. And
very surprised. Considering the substantial difference in
our ages, not to mention our interests, I should have
expected him to choose a younger man. I apologize for
prying,” he said, studying her very closely.
Elizabeth almost bolted out of her chair in dismay when he
asked bluntly, “Who else did he chose?”
Biting her lip, she looked away, unaware that Lord
Marchman could see from her stricken expression although
the question embarrassed her, the answer distressed her
terribly.
“Whoever he is, he bust be even less suited to you that I,
from the look on your face,” he said, watching her. “Shall
I guess? Or shall I tell you frankly that an hour ago,
when I returned, I overheard your aunt and your coachman
laughing about something that occurred at the home of Sir
Francis Belhaven. Is Belhaven the other man?” he asked
gently.
The
color drained from Elizabeth’s face, and it was answer
enough.
“Damnation!” expostulated the earl, grimacing in
revulsion. “The very thought of an innocent like yourself
being offered to that old –“
“I’ve dissuaded him,” Elizabeth hastily assured him, but
she was profoundly touched that the earl, who knew here
slightly, was angered on her behalf.
“You’re certain?”
“I
think so.”
After a moment’s hesitation he nodded and leaned back in
his chair, his disturbingly astute gaze on her face while
a slow smile drifted across his own. “May I ask how you
accomplished it?”
“I’d
truly rather you wouldn’t.”
Again he nodded, but his smile widened and his blue eyes
lit with amusement. “Would I be far off the mark if I were
to assume you used the same tactics on Marchman that I
think you’ve used here?”
“I’m
– not certain I understand your questions,” Elizabeth
replied warily, but his grin was contagious, and she found
herself having to bite her lip to stop from smiling back
at him.
“Well, either the interest you exhibited in fishing two
years ago was real, or it was your courteous way of
putting me at ease and letting me talk about the tings
that interested me. If the former is true, then I can only
assume your terror of fish yesterday isn’t quite . . .
shall we say . . . as profound as you would have had me
believe?”
They
looked at each other, he with a knowing smile, Elizabeth
with brimming laughter. “Perhaps it is not quite so
profound, my lord.”
Her
eyes positively twinkled. “Would you care to make a try
for that trout you cost me in this morning? He’s still out
there taunting me, you know.”
Elizabeth burst out laughing, and the earl joined her.
When their laughter had died away Elizabeth looked across
the desk at him, feeling as if they were truly friends. It
would have been so lovely to sit by the stream without
slippers, waiting to test her own considerable skill with
pole and line. On the other hand, she wanted neither to
put him to the inconvenience of keeping them as house
guests nor to risk that he might change his mind about
their betrothal. “All things considered,” she said slowly,
“I think it best if my aunt and I were on our way tomorrow
to our last . . to our last destination.
The
next day dawned clear and fine with birds singing outside
in the trees and sun shining gaily in an azure sky.
Turning, she smiled with genuine affection at Lord
Marchman and offered him her hand through the open window
of the coach. “Thank you,” she said shyly but with great
sincerity, “for being all the things you are, my lord.”
His
face scarlet with pleasure at the accomplishment, John
Marchmnan stepped back and watched her coach pull out of
his drive. He watched it until the horses turned on to the
road, then he slowly walked back toward the house and went
into his study sitting down at his desk, he looked at the
note he’d written her uncle and idly drummed his fingers
upon his desk, recalling her disturbing answer when he
asked if she’d dissuaded old Belhaven from pressing his
suit. “I think I have,” she’d said. And then John made his
decision.
Feeling rather like and absurd knight in shining armor
rushing to save an unwilling damsel in the event of future
distress, he took out a fresh sheet of paper and wrote out
a new message to her uncle. As it always happened the
moment courtship was involved, Lord Marchman lost his
ability to be articulate. His note read:
If
Belhaven asks for her, please advise me of it. I think I
want her first.
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