Love With the Proper Husband (11 page)

Still, in spite of their differences, both friends had the unfortunate gift of setting their sights on the wrong women, and both harbored a desire for love. Only their ways of seeking it varied. But Marcus had long ago realized, even if Reggie never would, that such desire was at once overly romantic, highly impractical, and quite improbable.

“Poetry is a nice touch as well.” Reggie’s brow furrowed thoughtfully. “They like it if you write it yourself.”

“I do not now, nor shall I ever write poetry,” Marcus said in a lofty manner. Reggie laughed. “You say that like it’s quite disgraceful.”

“Not at all. I simply realize my limitations.”

“Helmsley writes poetry.”

“Helmsley writes bad poetry and everyone who reads it knows it.”

“Yes, but I’d wager it’s that bad poetry that won him the hand of his lovely wife.” Reggie grinned.

“It’s the sentiment, Marcus, not merely the words that touch a lady’s heart.”

“Nonetheless, I—”

“You could try someone else’s poetry.”

“Are you suggesting I borrow something of Helmsley’s?” Marcus raised a brow. “I daresay neither he nor his wife would appreciate my absconding with his words, no matter how bad they may be.”

“Don’t be absurd.” Reggie grimaced. “I doubt if Helmsley’s poetry would have the same effect on a woman who wasn’t already in love with him. However, I was going to suggest a few of Lord Byron’s words. All that
she walks in beauty
nonsense.” Reggie raised his glass. “It can be most effective when used correctly. And women do seem to love it.”

“Women seem to love
him
,” Marcus said wryly.

“He’s always been scandalous. That dashing, even dangerous image, coupled with his poetry, makes him rather irresistible, I suspect. Thank God he’s out of the country.”

Reggie thought for a moment. “Perhaps that’s been our problem all along. We are simply not rakes or rogues or scoundrels.”

“Yet our reputations are not spotless.”

Reggie scoffed. “Petty infractions. Youthful high spirits. Nothing of true significance. Nothing to make a woman wonder how exciting dipping her toe into the waters of our dangerous characters would be. We are altogether far too respectable.” He leaned forward in his seat. “Perhaps what we need is to be involved in a scandal of epic proportions.”

“Given this a great deal of thought, have you?”

“The circumstances you find yourself in have had the strangest effect of forcing me to reconsider my own life. And I find it rather disappointing.” Reggie fell silent, obviously pondering his now recognized wasted years. At last he heaved a heartfelt sigh. “However, I suppose that discussion will have to wait for another night. Our first order of business is the arrangement of your life. Right now we must determine how to encourage Miss Townsend to consent to marriage.”

He shook his head. “I confess, I don’t understand her reluctance. You have everything any woman could ask for. In truth, Marcus, you are an excellent catch.”

“Only for a woman interested in marriage.” Marcus blew a long breath. “And unfortunately, Miss Townsend is apparently the only woman on the face of the earth who is not.”

“We have to make it look exciting then. We have to make
you
exciting. Yes, of course, that’s the answer.” Reggie downed his drink and sprang to his feet. “You have to change, Marcus. Become a rogue, a rake, a scoundrel. Seduce virgins. Dally with married women. Flout convention.”

“I’m not sure I have enough time for that,” Marcus said wryly.

Reggie ignored him. “Embroil yourself in a good, juicy scandal. Your name on every gossip’s lips and in every woman’s heart. Why, look at what happened to that Effington chit. She ran off and wed a near stranger who then croaked, practically before the ink was dry on the marriage certificate. Everyone is still talking about that, I tell you.”

“Somehow I don’t think marrying the wrong person, whether they survive or not, is the way to attract Miss Townsend.”

“Probably not.” Reggie thought for a moment. “Still, there are no end of things you could do. Adopt a wicked grin and a wickeder look in your eye.” Reggie flashed his idea of a wicked grin, and Marcus tried not to laugh. “Sweep her off her feet, Marcus. Be mysterious. Women always want what they can’t have. Be aloof. Dangerous. Be”—Reggie smiled slyly—“forbidden fruit.”

“Forbidden fruit?” Marcus laughed. “I daresay, as I am pursuing her and it is my fortune at stake, I am scarcely the stuff forbidden fruit is made of. Rather I am all too readily available and ripe for picking.”

“Ah well, then, it was just an idea.” Reggie plopped back on the sofa and held out his glass for a refill. “Do you think that’s a flaw in their characters? Women, I mean? The men they seem the most taken with are the ones I wouldn’t let alone in a room with my sister for so much as the blink of an eye. A crowded room at that.”

“No doubt one of many flaws, Reggie. I am not certain trying to study them with an eye toward rationality is at all possible.” Marcus grasped the decanter beside him and reached forward to refill Reggie’s glass. “However, what makes men superior is that we can turn their flaws to our advantage. The chinks in their armor are to our benefit.”

“Does your Miss Townsend have flaws?”

“Every woman has flaws. Miss Townsend is no different. Thus far, I can confidently say she is stubborn and opinionated. She is overly independent, annoyingly outspoken, and has the oddest views on marriage and the relationships of men and women. Although, I believe if any woman could take care of herself, Miss Townsend would be the one. In addition, I understand she can be quite impulsive as well. And worst of all”—he grinned—“I suspect she is nearly as clever as I am.”

“Pity. Still, I assume you are not allowing a few minor defects to dissuade you. You are still determined to marry this termagant, are you not?”

“She and her attitudes are a blasted inconvenience, but my resolve is unshaken. What choice do I have? I have three months until my birth date, and I shall spend every day of that in pursuit of her until she relents or I am impoverished. In truth, though, now that I have met the lady”—Marcus grinned—“the prospect of marriage to her is not unappealing.”

“I cannot believe your luck. In spite of the fire in her eyes”—Reggie returned his grin—“she did have the face of an angel.”

“Both the face and the fire make her a most interesting challenge. I’m surprised to find I am quite looking forward to it.” Marcus wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to confess just how much he was looking forward to it, either to Reggie or to himself.

He had conceded that Miss Townsend—Gwendolyn—had had the oddest effect on him and had spent the day since their meeting trying to determine why.

Certainly she was pretty, and he would be eternally grateful for that, admitting to himself that he was shallow enough to wish for a pretty wife. But he had seen prettier, indeed had had prettier cast their eyes in his direction. It was not Gwendolyn’s appearance, although he had always had a particular fondness for red hair, that intrigued him. No, it was something entirely different. Her manner, perhaps; her attitude, indeed; even her mind.

He had met clever women before, of course. The two women in his past to whom he had nearly given his heart were clever. And pretty. But Gwendolyn was unique among women of his acquaintance. She had something they did not; yet at the moment, he had no idea what that something was. Perhaps it was simply knowing his future was in her hands, and his attraction to her was nothing more than a concession to the inevitable, a means of accepting what he had no choice in. In a convoluted way, that did make sense.

“You’re rather passionate about a woman you just met,” Reggie said mildly. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you quite this animated since Lady—”

“Nonsense.”

“Denying the obvious?” Reggie studied him for a moment. “How very interesting.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Marcus said firmly. “If I exhibit any passion at all about Miss Townsend, it’s only because I have worked myself to a minimal amount of enthusiasm for that which I cannot avoid.”

Reggie snorted. “You can protest all you want, old man, but don’t forget: I know you as well as you know yourself. In spite of your reluctance to engage in displays of emotion, or indeed to admit you have emotions, I would wager a great deal that this woman has intrigued you to an extent I have rarely seen you exhibit.”

It was pointless to deny it: argument would only strengthen Reggie’s belief. Besides, Marcus was indeed intrigued by Miss Townsend.
Gwendolyn
. When had he started thinking of her by her given name?

“It seems to me, Reggie, if you have no choice in the matter of who your bride will be, it’s far better to be intrigued by the woman than repulsed by her.”

“No doubt. I should think—”

Without warning, the door to the library opened and the subject of their discussion swept into the room, Godfrey, Marcus’s butler, fast on her heels.

Marcus straightened, and Reggie at once got to his feet.

“My lord,” Godfrey said quickly, “I attempted to explain to the lady that she could not simply—”

“I told him it was all right.” Gwendolyn’s cool gaze met his. “That you would wish to see me.”

“Which I could scarcely believe, my lord,” A scandalized note sounded in Godfrey’s lowered voice. “She is unaccompanied.” In Godfrey’s estimation, no respectable lady would go anywhere without accompaniment.

“I have a driver,” she said in an overly sweet manner.

“It is quite all right, Godfrey. Miss Townsend is indeed”—he cast her an amused smile—

“expected.”

Godfrey hesitated but was too well trained to protest. “Very well, my lord.” Godfrey slanted her a suspicious glance. “I shall be nearby if you require my assistance.”

“Never fear, Godfrey.” Reggie grinned. “I shall remain to protect His Lordship should it become necessary.”

Godfrey’s lips pressed together in a firm line, as if he doubted Reggie’s ability to do much of anything. Reggie often had that effect on the servant. Godfrey nodded in a respectful if reluctant manner.

“As you wish, my lord.” He stepped to the door and closed it firmly behind him.

“What, precisely, does he think I will do to you?” Miss Townsend said mildly.

“It’s hard to say with Godfrey.” Marcus smiled. “He has been with me since I was a boy and is exceedingly protective.”

“However, you are in excellent company. He has never trusted me in the least.” Reggie stepped forward.

“With good reason, my lord?” Miss Townsend’s eyes widened innocently.

“One can only hope.” Reggie laughed. “You were right about her, Marcus.”

“Were you?” Miss Townsend’s brow lifted. “Right about what?”

“Miss Townsend,” Marcus changed the subject, “may I present my friend Lord Berkley.”

“Miss Townsend.” Reggie took her hand a bit too eagerly and lifted it to his lips. His gaze met Gwendolyn’s in an altogether too personal manner. “How delightful to see you again.”

“Is it?” she murmured, staring at Reggie with a bemused look on her face, as if she’d never had her hand kissed before. Why, hadn’t Marcus kissed her hand just yesterday? Her reaction hadn’t seemed nearly as profound then.

“Indeed it is.” Reggie’s voice was low and overly warm.

Odd how Marcus had never before noted the flirtatious—no, the
intimate
—manner in which Reggie greeted female acquaintances. For a moment he had the most remarkable urge to thrash his oldest friend in the world. Surely he wasn’t jealous? Or possessive? What nonsense. Still, he didn’t like the look on Reggie’s face or, for that matter, the look on Gwendolyn’s.

“Then is what Lord Pennington said to me true?” she asked.

“It all depends on what he said.”

“He suggested
you
would be happy to marry me and absolve him of the necessity to do the deed himself.” She smiled pleasantly. “Would you?”

Marcus winced to himself.

Reggie’s eyes widened, and he dropped her hand as if it were on fire. “Well, I…that is…I should…”

“It was a momentary impulse on my part,” Marcus said quickly. “And quite ill-advised, I might add. My apologies to you both.” He sounded rather stiff, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. Reggie cast him a curious look. “Apology accepted. Although”—he bowed in a courtly manner—

“Miss Townsend, I should be honored to marry you if only to save you from the hands of Lord Pennington. He is a rake, a rogue, and a scoundrel. He has been embroiled in escapades and scandals far too numerous to mention.” He lowered his voice confidentially. “He is exceedingly dangerous.”

“Really?” Gwendolyn considered Marcus for a moment. “He does not look particularly dangerous.”

“My dear young woman.” Reggie shook his head. “The stories I could tell you would shock you to your very core.”

“Berkley”—a warning sounded in Marcus’s voice—“I don’t think—”

“You mean stories about Lord Pennington being mistaken for a buck and shot?” Her tone was mild, but there was an amused twinkle in her eye.

“Exactly like that.” Reggie grinned. “Only these are even better.”

“That’s quite enough,” Marcus said firmly. “I doubt Miss Townsend is here this evening for the purpose of hearing stories about my exploits, real or imagined.”

“Although I did rather enjoy the one about him being shot.” A true smile lifted her lips, and Marcus was struck by what lovely lips they were. He hadn’t seen her smile like that before. It lit up her face and deepened the blue of her eyes. And warmed something deep inside him.

“I could tell it again if you’d like.” Reggie’s tone was a touch too eager. “And this time it will be much more amusing.”

“No,” Marcus said. “But I’m certain Miss Townsend appreciates the offer.”

“Indeed I do.” She paused for a moment as if to gather her thoughts or perhaps her courage.

“However, that is not the offer I am here to discuss.”

At once the mood in the room sobered.

Marcus nodded. “I did not think so.”

“I assume nothing has changed?” Gwendolyn started to remove her gloves, as if she planned on staying for a while. Marcus wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. “You still wish to marry me?”