A Marriageable Miss Read Online Free Page A

require in any prospective candidate for my daughter’s hand—you will, no doubt, have heard that you are by no means the first such contender. I myself do not consider that these requirements to be particularly onerous but, for some reason, it appears to be increasingly difficult to find someone who is able to fulfil my expectations.’
    Urging Richard to cast his eye over the several clauses therein, he pushed the sheet of paper across the desk. ‘It will save time if you read the thing yourself, my lord,’ he said. ‘If there are any points that you do not understand or on which you are not prepared to agree, we need not waste any more of each other’s time.’
    Richard picked up the document and began to peruse it. It appeared to be a contract of sorts—an agreement that was to last for a period of three months, during which time the candidate for Miss Wheatley’s hand would be required to introduce her into his circle of friends—given that her father found them acceptable—acquire the necessary entry and escort her to as many of the Season’s upper-class functions as the time allowed. During this period, all expenses would be met, including that of furnishing the applicant with a suitable wardrobe, should he be in need of such refurbishment.
    Whilst it was clear that the proposed schedule was one that might be achieved with very little difficulty on his part, he still could not help feeling that, by entering into such a calculated agreement, he would be in grave danger of signing away the last vestige of his self-respect. There was no question that the cost of the renovations at Markfield Hall had reached a crisis point and to be given another chance to try and re-establish the Standish Stud would be a dream come true but, as the Bible said, ‘For what shall it profit a man to gain the whole world, if he loses his own soul?’
    Very gradually, a deep frown began to develop on his forehead as he contemplated the document and he was just in the process of questioning whether he could really bring himself to sign such an ignominious agreement, when an odd sound from across the desk caught his attention. Looking up, he encountered Wheatley’s frozen grimace. The man’s face was sweating profusely and heseemed to be having difficulty breathing; his hands were frantically tearing at his intricately tied neckcloth, in a vain endeavour to loosen the offending article.
    At once, Richard leapt to his feet. ‘My dear sir,’ he gasped in dismay, ‘are you ill?’
    In answer, Wheatley’s eyes bulged, a weak gurgle issued from his lips and, to his visitor’s consternation, he slumped forwards on to his desk, his outflung hands knocking over the inkstand and scattering his pile of papers in all directions.
    Anxiously casting around for the bell-rope, the earl located it on the wall next to the marble fireplace and, having given it two hefty pulls, hurried back to Wheatley’s side where, gently lifting the man’s wrist away from the pool of ink into which it had fallen, he felt for some signs of life.
    He was just beginning to discern a faint thready pulse beat when the door opened and a footman entered.
    ‘You must send at once for a doctor,’ barked the earl, without looking up. ‘Your master appears to have suffered some sort of attack.’
    With a horrified gasp, the servant backed out of the room and hurried away to carry out the order.
    Richard, meanwhile, was doing his best to make the old gentleman more comfortable. He had managed to untie the knot in Wheatley’s neckcloth and was endeavouring to unwind the linen band when he found himself violently thrust to one side, almost causing him to overbalance.
    ‘What have you done to him?’ an irate female voice demanded.
    ‘Hold hard, madam!’ he protested, ruefully rubbing his elbow, which had struck the corner of Wheatley’s high-backed chair in the foregoing scuffle. ‘I must assure you that Mr Wheatley’s collapse was not of my making!’
    ‘Get