“Nonsense,” he said crisply.
“It’s not nonsense.Now, listen to me.Nash and Harry were chary of the whole idea of marriage and courtship, and each of them turned to me for assistance in finding them a suitable bride.And look at them now—both of them married and blissfully happy.You could be the same.Let me help you as I helped them.”
Marcus turned away, hiding a smile as he perused some books on a shelf.While it was perfectly true that both Harry and Nash had initially sought Aunt Maude’s assistance in finding a suitable bride, the brides they’d ended up choosing had never been anywhere near Aunt Maude’s list of ideal candidates.
His half-brother, Harry, had found Nell sitting on the back of a dray, muddy, drenched, exhausted and in utter despair.And Nash had found Maddy living in poverty in a small rural cottage trying desperately to keep herself and a gaggle of children alive.Actually, you might say that it was Maddy who found Nash when he came off his horse and crashed into a stone wall, unconscious.
For all that Aunt Maude claimed the credit for their happy marriages, she’d had nothing to do with arranging them.
“Marcus, dear boy, let me help you find the perfect bride.I know the sort of gel you need, and most of the gels coming out this season—”
“Aunt Maude,” he said firmly.“I thank you for your concern but I am not going to London in search of a bride and I don’t need your help.”He picked up his document folder, selected a book and turned to leave.“In the meantime, stay as long as you want.Make yourself at home.Anything you need, ask the under-butler or Mrs Allen.”
She followed him out of the room.“One-and-thirty, Marcus—one-and-thirty!If you wait much longer, the new crop of gels will be young enough to be your daughters.”
He turned and said dryly, “You flatter me, aunt, but I was not quite as enterprising at thirteen as you obviously imagine.”
She made a frustrated noise.“Mark my words, Marcus Renfrew: you will rue the day you refused my assistance.”
“Undoubtedly.”He walked toward the door.
She snorted.“You’re just like my stupid, stubborn, rigid, impossible brother.”
Marcus didn’t wait to hear her response.“Who else should I be like but my father?”he tossed over his shoulder.
“Yourself, whoever that might be — but you won’t, unless you get that stick out of your arse.”
Marcus whirled, shocked.“Whatdid you say?”
Aunt Maude gave him a gimlet look.“You heard.”
Marcus shook his head.“Goodbye, Aunt Maude.”He kissed her cheek, climbed into the carriage, and tapped on the roof to signal the driver to move off.
His aunt watched, and as the carriage rolled away, muttered, “You stupid boy, don’t you realize how lonely you are?”
As the carriage passed through the front gates and turned onto the main road, Marcus settled back in his seat.His aunt’s never-ending and unsubtle efforts to get him leg-shackled might amuse him if they weren't so irritating.
Stick out of his arse?What nonsense.He was rational, that’s all.Level-headed.Responsible.
His aunt was getting more outrageous the older she grew.
As for the way she prated to him of his duty, he didn’t need her to remind him.His estate—and those under his supervisions that would eventually pass to his brothers—were in excellent order.He did his duty by his family, his tenants, his dependents and his country, just as his father had raised him to.He was a damned dull dog, in fact.
But he wouldnotmarry to order.When the time came for him to choose a bride—which would be if and whenhedecided—he would choose one soberly, dispassionately and prudently.And if that was cold-blooded, all the better.
He wasn’t opposed to the idea of marriage, but he was wary of the idea of choosing a bride from theton.The young ladies one met in society showed the world one face, one wholly agreeable face, intended to lure a man into proposing.But after marriage ...
The beautiful Lady Anthea Quenborough came to mind.
Better to remain single the rest of his life than leg-shackle himself to one like that.
If he ever did decide to seek a bride, he would make a practical, unemotional marriage, entirely without his aunt’s so-called assistance.And ensure that his bride understood that.
Even so, he shuddered at the thought, imagining the kind of fuss and botheration his wedding would entail.His aunt often complained that his brothers had done her out of a grand society wedding, but that his own would be done properly, as befitted an earl.Aunt Maude adored a fuss, the bigger the better.
All the more reason, should he ever consider marriage, to go about the business quietly and discreetly.Or not at all.
#
