the daughter of a duke, so between her
family—the Havants—and the Spenfords, there were an
inordinate number of titles. Constance only managed to
store a fraction of them. One name did strike a chord,
that of Marcus’s cousin Lucinda—one of the few
people who used his Christian name.
“She’s Mrs. Quayle, married to Jonathan, youngest
son of the Earl of Hazlemere,” Helen said. “I’d be
surprised if Lucinda doesn’t visit you today. She must
always be in the thick of the news.”
“I was under the impression the earl—er, Marcus—
doesn’t care for gossip,” Constance said.
“True,” Helen agreed. “But he and Lucinda spent a
great deal of time together in their youth. Their
closeness persists despite Lucinda’s tendency to say too
much. Now, my dear, am I right in thinking you have
already been presented at Court?”
“Yes, Mama. My sister Serena and I were presented
in the company of my aunt, Miss Jane Somerton, last
year.” Her aunt was currently traveling on the
Continent, not expected back in London for at least a
month.
“Then there’s no reason why you shouldn’t appear
immediately in society. What a surprise you’ll be to our
friends.”
Karen
e
n K
im
m ♥
69
THE EARL’S MISTAKEN BRIDE
Did she mean a good surprise, or a bad one?
“I only hope they take the shock as well as you have,
Mama,” Constance said, in an attempt at humor.
“Not a shock, my dear. Although—” she paused
delicately “—I admit, this happened rather fast. It was
only last Sunday I told Marcus I’d love to see him
married to a nice, Christian girl. He left the next day to
see your father, and here you are.”
That was such a ridiculously shortened version of the
disastrous wedding story, Constance didn’t know what
to say. “You have a most obedient son,” she managed.
Helen tipped her head back against her pillows. “He’s
perfect,” she agreed gloomily.
Constance blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“One thing you’ll soon learn with Marcus—he
always does the correct thing,” Helen said. “He never
makes a mistake. Never.”
Constance could think of an enormous mistake
Marcus had made yesterday at quarter past eleven. She
chose not to mention it.
Helen must have sensed her doubts. “I’m not saying
he’s infallible. But Marcus sets such high standards for
himself. His father was the same, devoted to his duty
and the earldom.”
“Those are good things,” Constance reminded her.
“I used to think so,” the dowager agreed. “But
now…well, I’ve stared death in the eye over the past
few months. Believe me, Constance, I don’t worry
about whether my life has been dutiful enough. I worry
whether I’ve loved enough.”
Karen
e
n K
im
m ♥
ABBY GAINES
70
“Do you think one must choose between duty and
love?” Constance asked.
“Not necessarily. But for Marcus…” Helen plucked
at her blanket. “When he became heir apparent after
Stephen’s death, his father found him lacking in the
qualities he considered essential—authority and bearing
and dignity. Marcus wasn’t to blame. I was too doting a
mama, and he hadn’t been groomed for the title from a
young age, as Stephen had. I think sometimes the poor
boy despaired of attaining what my husband considered
the acceptable standard for an earl.”
“So you think he became wedded to his duty to please
his father?”
“I feel guilty,” Helen said frankly. “I withdrew from
his upbringing, believing it the right thing to do. But in
becoming the perfect earl, he’s grown intolerant of
others’ weaknesses. It stops him from getting close to
people.”
“You and Marcus are close,” Constance reminded
her. “And lovely though you are, I doubt you’re
perfect.”
Helen chuckled. “Far from it. Luckily, the maternal
bond seems to exempt me from his high standards. The
thing is, Constance, I don’t want to die knowing it’s at
least partly my fault that my son is unhappy.”
“You think he’s unhappy?” Constance asked.
“How can he not be? He’s proud, and I believe he
must be lonely. If nothing short of perfection satisfies
him, he’ll never find contentment in this earthly life.”
Misgiving flooded Constance. He could never be
Karen
e
n K
im
m ♥
71
THE EARL’S MISTAKEN BRIDE
content with her.
Helen glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece.
“Gracious, it’s past one o’clock. Luncheon will be
served. You must go down.” As Constance stood, Helen
grasped her fingers. “Constance, my hope and prayer is
that you will soften dear Marcus’s heart.”
Given pen and paper, Constance could list a dozen
reasons why she wouldn’t succeed in working such
miracles on Dear Marcus’s heart. Number one: he’d
been duped into marrying the wrong woman.
But Helen’s story had given her insight into why
Marcus was so proud. The dowager’s loyalty had been
to her husband—it was perhaps too late for her to show
Marcus another way. But Constance could teach him
that other things were just as important as status and
reputation. Even more important.
The sooner she started, the better.
THE NEWS THAT his cousin Lucinda had come
calling made Marcus groan.
“Shall I tell her you’re not available, my lord?”
Dallow asked.
He’d have to face Lucinda sooner or later, but maybe
he could deter her