It made him feel guilty, and a man couldn’t relax
when he felt weighed down by guilt. If Constance were
happier—and her smile more frequent—might Marcus
feel more content?
“So, you’re saying a husband who’s a good provider
Karen
e
n K
im
m ♥
229
THE EARL’S MISTAKEN BRIDE
makes a woman happy?” he asked John. Because if that
was all it took, Constance had nothing to complain
about. Harper, the son, gave Marcus a startled look,
clearly surprised at the intimacy of the discussion.
The older man peered at the current, trying to see
beneath the surface. “Well, she won’t be happy if
you’re not a good provider, that’s certain. But it takes
more than that. This fish here—” he jerked a thumb
toward the trout still flapping in the tin bucket on the
bank “—is more than a meal. It’s what my missus calls
a nice surprise.” John swooped down with his net and
came up with a cluster of wriggling silver sprats.
“These’ll make good bait,” he observed, tossing them
into the bucket.
“And surprises are good,” Marcus said doubtfully.
John chuckled. “For the womenfolk. Not for us men.”
Marcus couldn’t agree more—since he’d married,
he’d had enough surprises to last a lifetime, starting
when he lifted his bride’s veil. Surprises were
overrated.
Even Harper forgot he wasn’t listening and grunted
agreement.
“Fat lot you’d know about it, our Tom,” his father
joked. “You don’t have a lass, let alone a wife.”
“I know that women get maggoty ideas in their heads,
and then they go changing everything and then a man
doesn’t know where he’s at—or at least, he does know
where he’s at and it’s not where he wants to be,” Harper
muttered.
Marcus eyed him with interest. Harper had summed
Karen
e
n K
im
m ♥
ABBY GAINES
230
up the conundrum of male and female relationships
rather well.
“Got your eye on someone, have you?” John Harper
asked. “Your ma’ll be pleased.”
“No, I don’t,” Harper said, with what Marcus
considered unnecessary force. “I don’t hold with a man
and a woman being unequally yoked.”
Marcus’s jaw dropped. Was Harper talking about him
and Constance? If so, his valet could start looking for
another position right now. Then he realized Harper’s
expression was far too miserable for him to be speaking
of his employer. He was referring to his own romance.
The one whose existence he’d just denied.
Marcus snickered sympathetically. Unequally yoked,
eh? Poor Harper, losing his heart to a woman either too
far above him or too far beneath him. Marcus might
have married a woman whose equality was debatable in
society’s eyes, but at least his heart was in no danger.
“Doesn’t matter what you think on the matter,” John
told his son. “If a woman wants you and she’s
determined, you might just have to plan on walking
lopsided the rest of your life.” His smile said he knew
something Marcus and Harper didn’t. Perhaps that the
fairer sex was worth all the trouble. “But that’s why you
need your little surprises. Keep ’em on their toes.”
There was some wisdom to that, Marcus thought.
Hadn’t he just been planning to surprise Constance with
his consideration for his valet? She was too quick to
think she knew him, too quick to make assumptions.
Though she would be happy to hear he had taken
Karen
e
n K
im
m ♥
231
THE EARL’S MISTAKEN BRIDE
Harper fishing, that act wouldn’t benefit her directly.
He realized he was eager to do something for her. After
all, she deserved it—she was the one who had
introduced Mr. Young to his mother.
What did Constance like? She doted on that father of
hers, of course. She liked the countryside. She liked
poetry, apparently.
He continued to think up and discard ideas for
“surprises,” as they fished. By the time he and Harper
headed back to the house, they’d caught five trout
between them. Servants and master alike would dine on
fish tonight. A good provider, indeed!
Before they packed up their gear, Marcus insisted on
gutting the largest trout for old Mrs. Harper. He had a
feeling she’d appreciate the boyhood courtesy.
He and Harper walked back to the house, parting for
Harper to take the catch directly to the kitchen.
Marcus entered through the front door…and
something leaped in his chest.
Constance was there. In the entry hall, talking with
Buddle. She’d not been here long. She still wore a
traveling dress of dark blue; the color brought out a
chestnut tinge in her hair.
Buddle saw Marcus, bowed and excused himself.
Constance turned. She colored, and it flooded back to
him, the memory of standing the other side of her door,
practically begging her to admit him. The memory of
her refusal.
“Your mother wished to visit Chalmers,” she said
defensively. Her chin went up in the air.
Karen
e
n K
im
m ♥
ABBY GAINES
232
“Did the journey tire her?” he asked coolly. But not
with the glacial cold he’d have liked. Yes, he was
mortified, frustrated, by her rejection…but that odd jolt
he’d felt at the sight of her had tipped him off balance.
Familiarity, he supposed it was.
One thing he