Page 10 of Six Nights to Marry a Marquess

The oddest thought occurred to him right then. However averse he was to marriage, he found that he was not as against the idea of Miss Young as his wife. If anything, he would never be bored. The very idea that he, a man who had sworn off marriage, could entertain such thoughts, even for a moment made him tug at his cravat. He sought refuge in his drink, hoping the familiar burn would clear his head of these dangerous musings.

“Is everything well?” Preston asked. “You look like a man who has been through more than just an evening of debutantes and matrons.” The insight cut closer to the truth than Theodore cared to admit.

“If Miss Young is as charming as you say, Preston, then I must call upon her tomorrow afternoon,” Theodore said, his words coming out more as a diversion than a direct response to Preston’s inquiry. After all, he was supposed to show the world that she was capturing his heart.

If only there was one to be captured,he snickered inwardly.

His resolve hardened; the awkwardness of their encounter with Asmont could not be the defining moment of their arrangement. They needed to present an image of harmony, to ensure the success of their plan. They were equally to blame for tonight’s failure, and Theodore must rectify it at once.

“Last night did not go as planned,” Theodore said, and Miss Young nodded. He had called upon her to rectify their mistake.

“Forgive me for the words I said. I realize how wrong they were.” Her gaze was on her gloved hands that rested on her lap.

Theodore decided to take advantage of her apology. “I will forgive you if you agree that last night’s ball does not count in our arrangement.” Her eyes snapped up, flashing defiantly. “It would be best if we begin anew, Miss Young.”

Her lips parted, likely to produce an argument, but she changed her mind. “Very well. Last night does not count.”

He grinned. “May I invite you to promenade the park with me?”

“If I get to choose the park,” she replied. She was relentless!

“I would be honored to oblige you,” Theodore said sweetly, and she laughed.

“My Lord, I must add a condition to our agreement.”

“By all means.”

“You must refine your attempts at romance. Even a house cat can tell that your actions are forced.”

He laughed. “Very well. I shan’t compose any poetry, but you might find your drawing room filled with flowers daily.”

She let out an exaggerated gasp. “Not red roses, I hope.”

“What have you against them?”

“Why, they are positively trite, My Lord.”

Theodore had to agree with her. “What kind flowers do you like?”

“Wild flowers,” she replied.

“Are you telling me that if I grab a posy of any kind of wild flowers and present it to you, it will be met with approval.”

“Yes.”

Theodore leaned back, fascinated. The women he was accustomed to interacting with were demanding even though some of them were not genteel. A rose was the least they would be willing to accept, but here was Miss Young, pleased withbuttercups and hyacinths. Smiling, he rose and offered her his hand.

“Shall we?”

“I choose Hyde Park,” she said, accepting his hand. “It would ensure we are seen by nearly everyone,” she added in a whisper.

They rode a carriage to the park, chaperoned by Miss Young’ lady’s maid, and with her arm tucked in the crook of his elbow, he guided their walk, ensuring his attention was entirely on her. Not that it required any effort.

“We seemed to have caused quite the stir last night,” Miss Young said when several pairs of eyes wandered their way.

“As well we should,” Theodore replied. “It is a sign.”

“What sort?”

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