Falling for the Marquess - Julianne MacLean Page 0,19
wearing a mask.”
“Indeed. But do you remember meeting the duke last week?”
“The tall fellow with the dark mustache? Yes, I do.”
“And what did you think of him? He would be an excellent catch, given his rank. His title is not quite as old as James’s, but he’s favored by the queen. She admired his wife for her charity work. The duchess passed away just over a year ago.”
“A widower.” Clara ducked below some low-hanging branches. “I hadn’t considered marrying someone who had been married before. I suppose it is an option.”
“Did you find him attractive?”
Clara shrugged. “Not as attractive as the marquess, though he would probably be a more sensible choice.”
“Yes,” Sophia agreed. “And I do want you to be sensible, Clara. I was supportive about going to the Cakras Ball, but when I think about what could have occurred if we were discovered.... I don’t wish to take that kind of risk again.”
“I’m sorry I put you in that position.” Clara sighed. “But I begged you to take me there, so don’t blame yourself.”
They rode in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the cool breeze.
“I just wish,” Sophia said, “that there was a way for you to see the marquess again without risking another appearance at a Cakras Ball.”
“If only he came out into society.”
Sophia considered it for a moment. “Well, there’s always the obvious. I could host a party and send him an invitation. He knows I’m your sister. If he’s interested in seeing you again, he’ll come.”
“He told me he despises the Marriage Mart.”
“That may be so, but if my eyes were telling me anything last night, it was that he was as taken with you as you were with him. You might be the very thing to bring him out of his shell. Perhaps deep down, he wants to be accepted again and we can help him. The worst thing that could happen is he would simply not attend—in which case we would at least know that he is determined to remain alone.”
“Or that he is not attracted to me.”
Sophia urged her horse into a gallop. “Impossible.”
Clara began to gallop as well.
“Shall I arrange an assembly then?” Sophia called out to Clara as she came up beside her.
Clara experienced a delightful thrill of anticipation. “Most definitely.”
Seger sat down for supper in his dining room with his stepmother, Quintina, at one end of the table and his cousin by marriage, Gillian, to his left. Lobster puffs with hollandaise sauce were served, followed by tarragon chicken with artichokes, at which time Quintina set down her glass of wine and broke the customary silence.
“I received an invitation today, from the Duke and Duchess of Wentworth.”
Seger paused, his fork in midair. “You don’t say.”
“Are you surprised by this?”
He did not look up from his plate, for there was very little he ever chose to reveal to his stepmother. “Should I be? I wouldn’t know, since I haven’t been following your social calendar.”
Quintina bristled. “Surely you know that I do not receive invitations from dukes or duchesses, but we won’t go into the reasons why.” She gave a cursory glance at Gillian, as if she didn’t want to soil the girl’s virgin ears with talk of Seger’s personal exploits.
Instead, she’d cast the blame without actually saying it, which was her way. She blamed Seger for the family’s social descent, all because of what had occurred three years ago with Lord and Lady Edmunston.
Though if one were analytical, one could go back much further than three years and find another source for blame. The true origin of Seger’s current manner of existence—the reason why he preferred to remain an island.
“The odd thing about it,” Quintina said, “is that the invitation was addressed to you and me both. Now tell me that you’re not surprised.” She raised a dark, arched eyebrow.
Seger wiped his mouth with his napkin and sat back. “All right, you win. I am surprised.”
This was, in fact, an understatement. He hadn’t been invited into those upper echelons for years. The duchess couldn’t be playing matchmaker for her sister, could she? He wasn’t exactly a respectable catch, although he did hold a title, and that was the singular purpose behind most of the American heiresses’ shopping excursions to London. Perhaps she or the duchess didn’t care about his reputation. Or didn’t know about it.
Not that any of it mattered. He was not interested in being bought for cash. He was one of the few English aristocrats who had enough cash of