Page 27 of A Tenuous Betrothal
“Ah, time to marry, is it?” Marc nodded. “I’ve felt that pressure from my parents as well.”
“But tell me, Prince Marc. Is that not why you are here?” Lord Carmine drank another cup.
Marc opened his mouth to tell everyone how far away from marrying he was but then realized with a jolt that he was in the exact position as Lord Carmine, perhaps even more so. His own father had arranged a marriage for him without his prior knowledge. What could he say? “The marriages of my father’s sons will always make him happier than not. But let’s just say I did not come to England with that in mind. Are many men actively seeking to marry this Season? Are there quite a few new ladies coming out?”
An older gentleman who appeared vastly amused at their conversation chuckled and held up a finger. “Ah, he’s wondering about the competition, he is.”
Marc laughed. “No, I’m not. Really. I’m only trying to get an understanding of this year’s Season, that’s all. Miss Davies is visiting, and I’m helping navigate things for her, so to speak.”
They stared at him for a full breath and then burst out laughing.
Marc stared them down in turn. “I don’t see anything remotely humorous.”
“Besides the fact that not a one of us is going to believe that trumpery for one second? I think you are here to find a wife and don’t want us to know,” Lord Carmine said.
“That’s right. I think he is too,” the Duke of Salsbury agreed. “What my lady wouldn’t give to know that Prince Marc is looking for a wife.”
“I am not looking for a wife.” His frustration grew in a great tightness across his chest, but no one seemed to care in the slightest what he said.
“This bit of news is going to spread; I’m telling you. Perhaps with half thetonclamoring for a bit of princely attention, the rest of us will have an opportunity to get to know this Miss Davies.” Lord Carmine smirked. Again.
Marc wished to wash it clean from his face. But instead, he humored their jokes and laughed with them while wishing to take back every word he’d said.
They kept at it until the women returned and lingered in the doorway, unsure what to make of such a jovial bunch.
“Ah, you’ve returned,” the Duke of Salsbury said. “Come, let us convene in the drawing room for some whist.” Their host held his arm out to his wife, and the two made their way out of the room as they likely had time and time again.
Marc envied them for a moment. He admired what they had. But then, as he allowed the other men to precede him, following their hosts and escorting their ladies, he counted all the troubles marriage could bring, and he reminded himself once again of his last and greatest safeguard against such an institution in his life, that he must be at the ready for his country. He mustn’t make any such entanglements until he could guarantee his and his country’s safety.
He wouldn’t be the head of security forever. He knew that. He’d just never considered he was anywhere near to marrying. But something about Miss Davies was confusing his goals and his understanding of his duties back home. Talking to these men about being in London to find a wife was upsetting everything he’d always stood for in London, which was to make merry, meet lovely friends, engage no one in a serious relationship, and return to Oldenburg ready to work. He needed Kristoff. He didn’t feel at all like himself right then, and he needed to start finding his normal jovial self before he showed up at the first ball of the London Season with too much sentimentality and sincerity. Brooding. He shook his head.
“Are you telling us no, or yourself?” Lord Carmine took another long draft from his cup. The men burst out laughing again.
“Perhaps it’s the ladies he wishes to deter.” Another man Marc had not yet said two words to raised his cup into the air to toast.
But Marc didn’t notice anything else in the room when Miss Davies placed her soft hand on his forearm. Her face shone with a light that had been missing from the room when only men were conversing. Her touch was a welcome pressure on his arm, causing a gentle warmth that soothed the irritation. Thankfully, she seemed to harbor no more irritation toward him.
“Might I escort you?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes, please.”
The others who’d lingered exited before them. Marc let them, bowing them past. It was always a confusing moment for all involved, with visiting royalty. Some hosts treated them as though they were princes in England, asking if they would lead the guests. But other hosts, sometimes out of ease and practicality, led the guests themselves, and the prince followed. Or, as was the case today, he simply deferred until he wished to exit or enter a room.
The wait gave him the smallest amount of time to further converse with Miss Davies. “How have you enjoyed your first London event?”
She allowed the others to move ahead enough that they would not overhear and then spoke in hushed tones. “It has been perfectly lovely. However...”
“However?”
“The women are of the opinion that the only reason you could have returned to England would be to find yourself a wife.”
He quietly cleared his throat to attempt to make a coherent sound. “Are they?”
She nodded. “Yes. So I am wondering which it is.”
“What are my two choices?”
“Are you here in London to find yourself a wife, or are you here to rid yourself of one?” Her eyebrow wiggled the tiniest bit, and he would have been worried by her question, except that her eyes lit with daring humor. Oh, she was entertaining indeed.
