Engaging the Earl

Marcus thought back to having to fend off Olivia’s more ardent suitors and found that the thought of Miss Mercer receiving similar attention bothered him just as much.

But only in a different sort of way.

“Any offers for her hand?” Marcus asked, only joking in an effort to keep the conversation going while Marcus tried to figure out how much information he could pry for without Nick reporting to Olivia that he was interested.

“One yesterday,” Nick said without laughing.

“You jest,” Marcus said, so surprised that he almost stumbled on the steps. “Miss Mercer hasn’t even been out to any events in society yet. How would a gentleman know enough about her in only a few days of afternoon calls to want to marry her?”

Nick shrugged. “She’s very beautiful. The man came calling with his mother yesterday. Apparently, the young buck decided from meeting her that the two of them would suit very well.”

Marcus waited for some punch line … like that the gentleman had been the infamous Viscount Danfield, an errant suitor of Olivia’s who had loved his mother more than he loved good sense.

Nick didn’t immediately confirm or deny, however.

“It was Danfield, wasn’t it?” Marcus said, trying to prompt him to finish the joke.

Nick shook his head. “No. Baron Chivers.”

A proposal from the baron already? He certainly acted quickly. Too quickly.

Wasn’t there some fable or cautionary tale about a man who made up his mind too fast and how he was likely to quickly change it again? If there wasn’t one like that, then there should be.

“So was Chivers heartbroken when you sent him away?” Marcus asked as they finally crossed into Nick’s study. He was striding perilously close to sounding overly concerned. Yet he didn’t seem capable of stopping himself.

Nick looked at him, the expression inscrutable. “I didn’t send him away.”

It was beyond belief. “You’re going to let someone court Emma after only speaking to her once?” the earl asked, outrage and indignation lacing his words. All thoughts of discretion were forgotten in the haze of his incredulity.

Nick held out his hands in surrender. “Emma needs a husband … a fact which my wife reminds me of daily … hourly even. What kind of person would I be to turn away someone as kind as Chivers?”

“He’s an infant,” Marcus countered, immediately incensed by the suggestion that the baron might be a suitable match for Emma.

Nick gave him an odd look. “He’s only a few years younger than we are,” he said, his expression suggesting that Marcus was acting crazy.

“A few years can make a large difference,” Marcus defended.

Nick didn’t dispute that, but he also didn’t back down. “Emma can decide for herself if they suit,” he said, much too nonchalantly for Marcus’s liking.

The earl could feel himself getting angry. How would Emma, who had never been a part of society’s marriage mart, know anything about what would be best for her? That was why she needed Nick and Olivia to intercede for her. But obviously, his sister wasn’t going to be any help. Marcus had looked at the names on that list … and he hadn’t been overly impressed with any of them. Olivia seemed quite prepared to throw Emma at any gentleman who stood still long enough … except for her own brother, of course.

And now his best friend was also turning out to be a traitor. Stopping Chivers should have been the first thing Nick did. It would have sent a message to the other suitors—that any attempts to secure Miss Mercer’s affections were going to be taken seriously and handled with the utmost care and discernment.

Instead, Nick had essentially declared open season for any jackanapes who wanted to try and woo a beautiful woman.

“I actually think Emma will probably get along quite well with Chivers,” the marquess said as though he couldn’t bear to leave the subject alone.

Marcus couldn’t sit down like Nick invited him to do. He was suddenly filled with so much restless energy he thought unless he could pace back and forth the length of the whole house he’d have a fit.

“Yes, you’ve made that clear,” Marcus snapped.

Nick didn’t acknowledge the abrupt change in tone or the way Marcus looked like he might want to bloody Nick’s nose.

Nick shrugged, the gesture at once careless and calculated. “Actually, I believe Chivers is downstairs, without his mother this time. You may want to go see for yourself how they get along since you won’t take my word for it.”

Marcus was halfway across the room by the time Nick finished his thought. And Marcus was on the other side of the door by the end of it. And as such, and since he didn’t turn around, he couldn’t tell that his friend was trying … rather unsuccessfully, actually, to muffle his laughter.

Emma didn’t want to be rude to the guests, but wasn’t there somewhere else everybody would rather be? She understood that, at the moment, she was a curiosity, a stranger everyone wanted to inspect for themselves. But she was weary of the constant deluge of people with their endless questions….

Are you related to Mr. Albert Mercer, that wealthy recluse from Cornwall? “Yes, he’s my uncle.”

How long do you plan to remain in Town? “Until I’m needed back home.”

What musical instruments are you accomplished in? “None. At all.”

Question …

After question …

After question …

And Emma wanted to scream.

That would defeat the purpose of being nice to the eligible young men who came calling, however. Olivia sat in one corner of the room, doing her best to keep the most gossipy of the women away from her … a service for which Emma was inexpressibly grateful. That left only a few of the younger women, who had obviously come to see whether Emma was going to be any serious competition.

The rest were gentlemen, varying in ages and stations in life. There was a viscount, a baron and, if she remembered the introductions correctly, there was also an earl in the mix. It was unusual for such loftily titled men to come calling upon a nobody.

She supposed she could credit the interest in her uncle’s rather bizarre behavior. But for all his elusive and reclusive ways, the size and scope of his assets had always been sufficient to ensure that Mr. Albert Mercer was well respected in society and would, no doubt, have been well received if he could be bothered to venture to Town. No one knew, of course, that Emma’s father and uncle hadn’t spoken since her grandfather passed away. Her uncle, the oldest son, had inherited the Cornwall estate, and Emma’s father had been given a healthy stipend of money.

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