looked up to see him studying her intently. The deepening colors of sapphire in his eyes looked like the edge of the horizon, right as the sun had finally set but before the sky went completely dark. Perhaps the young lady who’d written an ode to Welles’s eyes hadn’t been as much of pea-wit as Margaret had originally assumed. Being on the receiving end of the full force of Welles’s attention was nothing short of exhilarating. Her skin buzzed deliciously, like a tuning fork.
“Miss Lainscott?”
“My cause is just,” she said.
“In your estimation.”
“My lord, most gentlemen choose their wives in such a way, do they not? Find a woman who is possessed of the qualities they seek and then set out to woo her? Possibly they enlist their friends and family to assist them. I am merely doing the same. I thought you more open-minded.”
A lazy smile crossed his lips. “I am the very epitome of open-mindedness.”
“Will you hear me out, my lord?” She tilted her chin, determined to keep her wits about her, and not allow Welles and his…gorgeousness to deter her from her task. It was imperative, especially with Winthrop circling her like a lion who intended to take down a wounded gazelle, that Lord Welles understand the importance of her request and agree to help her. Margaret had to get things quickly in hand which meant Carstairs.
She hopped down the steps to the sidewalk, stopping beside a luxurious carriage pulled by four perfectly matched bays. “Winthrop is pressing his suit most forcefully, Lord Welles. I’ve endured him twice already this week.”
“An unfortunate occurrence. Are you certain it must be Carstairs? Is there no other gentleman who has your affection?
Just you. “No, my lord.” Margaret shook her head.
“No one else who…stirs your emotions?” Another double meaning emphasized the word.
“My lord, not every sentence you utter must end in some sort of…improper innuendo.”
A soft chuckle. “My apologies, Miss Lainscott, though I find it interesting you seem to pick up on all my indecent suggestions, gently bred young lady that you are. But I have my doubts about that. Do go on.”
“I am gently bred. And no one could fail to notice your…nuances. You aren’t subtle in the least.” Margaret looked away for a moment to compose herself. Now was not the time to argue needlessly over Welles’s rakish behavior. “I truly see no other way out of my current situation. Believe me, if I could avoid marriage completely, I would. But since I am compelled to do so, I think Carstairs and I would be a good match. I wish to assure you I would be a good wife to your friend, Lord Welles. I won’t infringe on his hunting or any other recreational activities. He can have as many mistresses as he wishes.”
“How progressive of you.” Welles regarded her seriously. “I see you’ve thought this through in a very logical fashion.”
“Furthermore, I’m disgustingly wealthy.” Her voice took on a pleading note. “My dowry isn’t the largest this season but even so, the amount is obscene.”
Welles nodded slowly. “All excellent points, Miss Lainscott. But I still—”
“I need you only to reintroduce us and possibly…help things along.” She was pushing her luck and the boundaries of propriety in asking Lord Welles for such a thing, but Margaret knew her limits. She was no great beauty and older than most of the young ladies making the rounds this season. A high intellect wasn’t valued in a wife. Margaret might require more than an introduction.
“Help things along?”
“You know what I mean, my lord.” She waved about her hands. “Esteem me. Highly regard me. Perhaps mention your admiration for my talent on the piano.”
“I do admire your talents.”
“And I would ask your discretion in this matter.” Surely a gentleman who adored his stepmother and sisters in such a way could be trusted.
“You have my promise I’ll not speak a word of what you’ve asked. But I’m not certain I am the right man to assist you. You could presume upon my stepmother, for instance.”
“I’ve only met the Duchess of Averell today.” Margaret’s fingers curled into her skirts, tugging at the material in frustration. “Is there nothing I can do to convince you to help me? Another performance on the piano, perhaps?”
6
That was exactly what he’d been considering.
“Something like that.”
Miss Lainscott was a tiny, petite thing. Delicate. Like a fine porcelain doll he’d once bought for Romy, except the doll’s eyes hadn’t sparkled with repressed fire as Miss Lainscott’s did. There was an entire list