And that was when he reconsidered…
“Oh!” She frowned and then flushed. “Not me, my lord!” She gazed down at her hands. She looked so damned earnest. “Miss Mossant.”
Upon hearing the suggestion of marriage, Marcus’ first inclination had been adamant and dismissive. He, and nobody else but he, would decide who he’d marry.
If ever.
But when he envisioned his father’s response to Miss Goodnight, or as she’d corrected him, Miss Mossant, he had to admit the idea did not lack merit.
Miss Mossant topped the list for notorious females this Season. By God, she’d be perfect. And, of course, she’d be willing, wouldn’t she? He eyed Miss Goodnight doubtfully.
“She’s already agreed to the scheme,” Miss Goodnight said before he could ask. “She sent me, in fact, to speak with you.” At these words, the lady’s eyes shifted guiltily. Or perhaps he imagined it. Miss Mossant could only benefit from marriage to himself. She’d have a protector. Marriage to an earl would easily restore her reputation.
“What type of a marriage would this be?” Miss Goodnight seemed to have all the answers. He might as well drag them out of her now.
This tiny woman shrugged matter-of-factly at his question. “Whatever the two of you wish to make it. I imagine. You may or may night engage in marital activities. Knowing you…” Her voice trailed off momentarily. “Depending upon your desire for an heir, I imagine. But Rhoda needs protection. I’m sure you’ve heard of the rumors spreading through town right now.”
Ah, yes, the rumors. At least he could be certain he wouldn’t be gaining a frigid wife. And yet he had no wish to be cuckolded. He supposed they could discuss these details at length later.
“I will ask her myself, for you, if you’d like.” Miss Goodnight picked up the conversation where she’d left off. And then she pressed a finger against her forehead.
“Are you ailing?”
She could not be comfortable, seeing clearly from only one eye.
She blinked a few times. “I was unable to locate my second pair of spectacles.”
Now that he looked at her, he realized her complexion had paled. He studied her thoughtfully. “Does it bother you, seeing through just the one lens?”
She closed one eye and met his gaze through the other. “It’s tiring.”
“Would it not be easier to set them aside for the evening?” At her frown, he assumed this was something she’d already considered.
“Does nobody understand that I cannot see without the lenses?” The vehemence in her voice surprised him. “If I could see without them, why in the name of all things holy would I persist in wearing them?” He’d obviously hit on something of a sore spot.
He continued staring at this seemingly straight-laced bluestocking. “I can take them into town tomorrow, if you’d like, and have them repaired.” The problem was by no means an insurmountable one. He reached out and slowly slid the broken pair off her face and then safely tucked them into his pocket.
A small red mark had been rubbed raw upon the bridge of her nose. She nodded slowly, apparently out of options. She really was a pretty little thing at times. His gaze, of its own accord it went without saying, roved across her pert little nose before dropping to plump lips that reminded him of a rose about to blossom.
And of course, the gown. A most un–Miss Goodnight-type of gown, if he said so himself.
It revealed her slender, almost fragile-looking neck and a tempting set of shoulders. Being a man, he could not keep himself from noticing ample cleavage on display, plumped up and creamy white. He wouldn’t have guessed the girl possessed such assets.
“My lord?” She pulled his attention back to her eyes. “I cannot see more than a foot in front of my face without my spectacles, but if I were to guess right now, I’d venture to say you were ogling me!”
“Ogling you?” He laughed. But of course, he’d been doing precisely that. “Ogling Miss Emily Goodnight!” He interjected a note of affronted shock. “I’d never dare such a thing.” Except he smiled upon uttering the absurdity.
Miss Goodnight grabbed the top of her bodice and tugged at it somewhat uncomfortably. “This is Sophia’s dress. She and Rhoda assured me it was quite respectable, but I don’t know…”
She really was a gem. “I assure you, Miss Goodnight, the gown is fine. Now stop fussing with it. You’ll ruin the effect.”
His words stilled her. The tip of her tongue peeked through those lips for just a moment, and then a row of white teeth replaced it as she bit her bottom lip. “I imagine that’s why I’m wearing it. As you are a single gentleman, may I ask you something?”
“I await with bated breath.”
“Do you think it possible for me to snag a husband? Dressed like this, I mean, and without my spectacles. Rhoda has suggested I set my cap for the vicar, Mr. White.”
“Carlisle? Prescott’s cousin?”
