Three Proposals And A Scandal Part 5

Genevieve made a sound low in her throat, half laugh, half grumble. "You'd give the sphinx a run for her money."

Despite wishing Genevieve far away, Marianne smiled. "Curiosity killed the cat, you know."

"Because n.o.body answered the poor cat's questions," Genevieve retorted. "Are you going to marry Desborough?"

"I'm not sure."

Genevieve's lips compressed in displeasure. "A suitably sphinx-like answer. Has he asked you?"

"Genevieve-"

"Well, has he?"

"Yes," Marianne admitted in exasperation. "If it's any of your business."

With the generosity of heart that always disarmed Marianne, Genevieve leaned across and took her hand. "I'm asking all this because I care, not because I want to pry."

"You want to pry as well." Marianne didn't withdraw. She was so confused and unhappy, the contact comforted, even if she paid for it with information she'd rather keep to herself.

"Well, yes." Genevieve paused. "I've got your best interests at heart."

That was true-or at least Genevieve's interpretation of her best interests. Marianne relented enough to answer. "My father wants the marriage."

"Your father doesn't have to live with Desborough afterward."

"I don't dislike Desborough," Marianne said, and winced when pity softened Genevieve's gray eyes.

"I could honestly kill Cam."

Surprised, Marianne pulled free and straightened in her chair. "What's Cam got to do with it?"

"Everything. Or a good proportion of everything. When he courted then abandoned you, he convinced you that you're worthy of no more than a lukewarm attachment."

Marianne frowned. She was sick to death of defending herself from accusations like this. "Pen and Cam are in love."

"And so should you be."

"I wasn't in love with Cam."

"No, of course you weren't. That's at least a blessing."

"Well, you can dismiss any thought that I'm pining for my former suitor."

"No, you're pining for Elias Thorne."

Silence crashed down with the force of a hammer striking a nail square on the head.

Marianne finally remembered to breathe. She strove to sound as if Genevieve's announcement didn't make her want to cry. Over the last year, her pride had taken such a beating; the thought that the world snickered at her infatuation made her quail. Her hands formed claws in her green skirts.

"Is that what everyone thinks?" she asked sharply.

Genevieve, curse her, continued to look sorry for her. "It's what I think."

"And Sidonie," Marianne forced through stiff lips.

"And Sidonie. I suspect both of us understand you better than the general run." She touched Marianne's arm in a conciliatory gesture. "You're afraid of gossip and after the fuss last year, that's perfectly natural. Don't worry-society has noticed Elias's interest in you, but most people would wager on you choosing Desborough. Although I've heard more than a few say you'll become Lady Tranter."

"He hasn't proposed."

"He will. At least he's younger than Desborough. Has Elias proposed?"

On an annoyed inhalation, Marianne rose. "You really are nosy."

Genevieve smiled up at her. "I know. You're wondering why you made friends with such a sticky beak." Her voice lowered to seriousness. "Marianne, I don't want you settling for second best. Not when best can be extraordinary. I never imagined I'd marry. I couldn't see any decent man putting up with my odd ways. Then when I fell in love with Richard, it was beyond belief that the ton's darling could ever want an eccentric bluestocking like me."

Usually Genevieve hid her vulnerabilities. It was something they had in common. This confession of past insecurity soothed Marianne's resentment. "And now you're blissfully happy."

"In my wildest dreams, I never pictured falling in love with someone like Richard. And n.o.body would ever expect someone like Richard to love me. Yet I know he'd die for me if I asked him. Although he'd make sure he selected the appropriate coat first."

Marianne smiled. Richard Harmsworth was famously always dressed comme il faut. "That's true."

The amus.e.m.e.nt faded from Genevieve's eyes. "So I'm begging you to listen to your heart when you make your decision, even if your head-and your father-say you're making a mistake."

"It would be a mistake to marry a fortune hunter," Marianne said sourly.

Genevieve frowned. "I can't believe that's all Elias wants of you. Last Christmas, he looked at you like the embodiment of his dearest dreams."

Agonized longing stabbed Marianne, but she pummeled it back and clung to harsh reality. "The embodiment of his dearest dreams is a new roof on Houghton Park and paying off Peter's mortgages."

Genevieve gave a huff of disgust and stood up, disturbing Sirius into a doggy complaint. "I never knew you were such a cynic."

"Elias needs to marry an heiress, Genevieve. Just now he thinks I might solve his financial troubles. If it means playing the ardent admirer for a few weeks, the eventual returns make it worthwhile."

Genevieve's expression was sad. "What a miserable view of life."

"I'm being sensible."

"I think you're blind," Genevieve said shortly. "And if you're not careful, you're going to stumble into a ditch you can't climb out of. See how sensible you feel then."

Chapter Six.

"Well, if it isn't my old chum, Noah."

Jonas glanced up from staring into the fire to see Richard in the doorway, looking ready as ever to grace a drawing room in Mayfair. Sirius pushed past his master and stopped for Jonas to scratch his ears, before flopping beside the hearth with a groan of pleasure.

"The devil with you, shut the blasted door and your mouth as well." Jonas kept his voice low, although the rain hitting the windows was loud enough to cover anything short of a gunshot.

Ignoring the unceremonious welcome, Richard closed the library door and sauntered across to sit without invitation on the leather chair facing the one Jonas occupied.

"There's a definite whiff of bear lurking in his den," he said lightly. He reached toward the table between the chairs and filled a gla.s.s from the decanter of brandy set there. "Shall I call for candles?"

"Don't you b.l.o.o.d.y dare," Jonas grunted, shaking his head as Richard raised the decanter in his direction. His gla.s.s was half full. He'd retreated in here for a quiet drink before dinner and found the privacy more to his taste than the liquor.

"Definitely a bear in a cave." Richard smiled through the firelit gloom.

"Sidonie's packed the place with a host of fools and mountebanks," Jonas said. "I set up this confounded house party to get some business done, not to play host to every young buck in the ton without sense to keep out of the rain."

"A grumpy bear," Richard murmured, sipping his brandy and stretching his legs toward the flames. "It's not your visitors' fault that it's raining too hard for them to travel."

"It's their fault that they're here in the first place. I should have known there would be trouble when I let d.a.m.ned Baildon bring his daughter. But the man insisted-thought this was an ideal chance to finalize the match with Desborough."

"Now we're awash in Marianne Seaton's admirers."

Jonas surveyed his friend without pleasure. "I suppose you know Sidonie's scheming to stymie Baildon's plans."

"Genevieve might have mentioned it. I believe Elias Thorne is somewhere about the house."

"And that c.o.xcomb Tranter imposed himself on my goodwill. If I'm not careful, Baildon will take all those lovely fields in Hampstead and sell them to someone else."

"You'll get over the disappointment, old man. You're the richest cove in England."

"I'd like to remain the richest cove in England, thank you very much."

A silence fell, easier because Jonas had given vent to his irritation. Sighing, he leaned his head against the back of the chair. He closed his eyes and listened to the rain. Calmness stole into his restless soul. It wasn't fair to blame Sidonie for this shambles. The awful weather had its part to play in turning his home into a madhouse. Or as Richard had jokingly remarked, an ark.

One thing was certain-if he had to house the melee for forty days and forty nights, he'd be up for murder before the sun shone again.

"Is he a c.o.xcomb?" Richard asked idly after a long delay.

Jonas didn't open his eyes. "Who?"

"Young Tranter. Society loves him. Handsome. Charming. Unattached. Good family."

"Do you fear for your pre-eminence in the ton?"

"He's a way to go before he's a serious rival," Richard said airily. "Surely he'd make a good choice for Marianne. I know Baildon wants Desborough and his political connections, but the fellow's too old for her."

Jonas lifted his head and regarded his friend thoughtfully. "I've heard a few disturbing whispers about Tranter."

Richard looked interested, as well he might. Jonas's sources of information were the best in Europe. "Have you indeed?"

"His fortune was no more than respectable, and he's been playing deep in the h.e.l.ls. Not to mention that cutting such a dash doesn't come cheap."

Richard's frown was troubled. "So he's in need of an heiress. Should we warn Baildon and Marianne?"

"I will if I think the fellow looks likely to win the prize. He might inveigle himself into my house in pursuit of her, however I think he's too late. According to her father, she's all but accepted Desborough."

"So Elias has no chance? That's a pity. I thought they got along well last Christmas."

"He's another fortune hunter."

"Do you think so? I would have said there was genuine feeling between them."

"You're a romantic." He'd said the same thing to Sidonie.

Richard smiled without offense. "Undoubtedly, old chap. And I suspect beneath that crusty exterior, you are, too."

"You've been talking to my wife."

"I don't need to."

"As far as Sidonie's concerned, my plans for houses in Hampstead can go to blazes as long as Marianne makes a love match."

Richard laughed. "If I were a betting man, my money would be on her having her way."

"Are you implying I'm under my wife's thumb?" Jonas drawled with lazy amus.e.m.e.nt.

"I'm implying you'd do anything to make that woman happy-and that includes sacrificing a deal likely to net you another fortune."

"True," Jonas admitted. "But don't tell her that."

"So we're backing Elias in this particular race?"

"I'm not convinced he's after anything more than Marianne's money." Jonas paused. "And the lady plays her cards d.a.m.n close to her chest. I have no idea which man she favors."

"Trust Sidonie. She's the most perceptive woman I know."

"She is that. In the meantime, I might devote a little more attention to Tranter's affairs."

When matters were urgent, he kept in contact with his offices via homing pigeon. The speed of communication had helped him steal a march on many a compet.i.tor. A message dispatched to his London headquarters would be there in mere hours.

"Good idea. If he really is up to his neck in River Tick, we need to expose him before he gains ground with Marianne."

Jonas's laugh was rueful. "How my rivals would sneer. I used to be the most feared businessman in Christendom. Now I'm relegated to playing Cupid."