Page 32 of The Marquess Wins a Wife
“So it has got to be for you,” Jo said, sauntering toward the window to flick back the threadbare curtains and peer into the drive. “There’s a man—he’s got a trunk.”
“Ah. That would be Radcliff, my valet.” Luke shoved back his chair, and the children scampered after him like little puppies nipping at his heels.
“But why should he be carrying the trunkinside?” Jo asked.
“Because he was so instructed.” Luke was obliged to hold the door, which wanted to swing closed of its own accord, for the little monsters as he passed through it. “Pity he didn’t arrive just a few hours sooner. Would have saved me a bit of trouble.”
Jo rounded upon him, her plaits flying. “But you’releaving.”
“No, he’s not,” Georgie said, scoffing. “He’s got to marry Lizzie first.”
Luke stumbled upon the first step, his hand flying out to snatch at the newel post. “I beg your pardon!” His arm throbbed with the sudden ache the abrupt movement had caused.
“He willnot!” Jo declared with a stamp of her small foot, and for once Luke was tempted to agree with the obnoxious little chit.
“He’sgotto. He kissed her; I saw!”
“You’re lying!”
“Amnot!”
“You are, too, you—you—”
Christ. “Children!” Luke roared, and was gratified that they immediately fell silent, blinking up at him, startled into stunned compliance. He jabbed a finger at Jo. “If I married every woman I’ve kissed, I’d be a bigamist many times over, and I hardly think whom I marry,ifI marry, is any of your concern besides.” Redirecting his attention to Georgie, he snapped, “Anddon’tspy upon your sister. It’s rude.”
Sullenly, Georgie muttered, “I was spying uponyou.”
Incredibly, a laugh wanted to rise in Luke’s throat, and it was with no small amount of effort that he swallowed it back down again. “Don’t dothat, either. You’re bound to see things you ought not.” Like a scene which had convinced the child that a proposal would be forthcoming. He could just imagine it; returning to London from an unanticipated sojourn to the countryside with awife. It would be—
Convenient.
The thought struck him sharply, maddeningly, tantalizingly. All of London knew he had no desire whatsoever to marry, and that had perversely made him a prime target: a peer of long and respectable lineage in possession of a sizeable fortune was something of a rarity just lately. He’d had more than his fair share of women thrust at him. But the thought of taking any of them to wife had made his blood curdle in his veins.
They wanted love, or position, or wealth—and whathewanted had never seemed to matter in any meaningful way. Lizzie wanted none of those things from him, and that made her…strangelyperfect. The perfect armor to don upon his inevitable return to London. He could not be the hapless victim of any potential marriage trap when he was already in possession of a wife, after all. She would make no demands upon his time, or his attention. Probably even less upon his accounts, given that she seemed accustomed to frugality. She wouldn’t know the first thing about London society, and would therefore not require his presence at insipidTonengagements.
Luke evenlikedher, after a fashion. At least enough that it would be no particular hardship to share the massive expanse of his London townhouse with her, or to meet her on occasion over dinner or breakfast.
Or to share her bed.
Bloody damned hell. What the hell was he thinking?
“Radcliff!” Luke bellowed, turning on his heel to thunder down the stairs, vaguely aware of the scampering of little feet trailing along in his wake. He careened into the foyer, where Willie was grumbling his surly complaints beneath his breath, shaking his head as a cascade of footmen, led by Radcliff, poured through the door.
“Sir?” Radcliff paused in the foyer, and footmen worked around him, bringing in items as they awaited further instructions. Though he had tactfully not given more than a cursory glance to the nearly decrepit state of the house, Luke guessed that by the derisive twitch of his mustache he was doubtful whether the house was suitable for habitation foranyone—much less his employer. “My apologies for arriving so late,” he offered, pointedly ignoring Willie, who lingered just beyond his left shoulder, still grumbling. “It has rained a great deal in London. The roads were nigh impassable.”
Three trunks had been stacked near the door, and it seemed there was no end in sight. “Good God,” Luke said. “Have you emptied the whole of my wardrobe?”
“You neglected to mention how long you intended to be away from London, or the—ahem,conditionsin which you would be residing. I thought it best to pack for all occasions, sir.” This, with an arch of one grey brow. “I beg your pardon; I had hoped to meet with the housekeeper so that she might show me to your dressing room—”
“Haven’t got one,” Georgie interjected, his lower lip thrust out in a mulish pout.
“Haven’tgotone?” Radcliff repeated in abject horror. “A housekeeper?”
“Or a dressing room,” Luke added. “I’m afraid you’ll have the devil of a time fitting those trunks into my room—which, incidentally, is upstairs, last door on the left—but make do as best you can, if you please, Radcliff.”
“Sir!” Radcliff edged away from Willie, a hint of desperation coloring his voice. “You can’t intend tostayhere. It’s—it’s—”
No doubt the poor man thought he would be obliged to remain in substandard circumstances along with his employer, and clearly the mere consideration of such a possibility was enough to send him nearly into apoplexy. “Not to worry, Radcliff. I’ve been dressing myself well enough these last days; I can manage without you for the foreseeable future. There’s simply no spare beds to be had, and besides—I have a much more important assignment for you.”
