The Marquis Takes a Bride Read Online Free

only by the whispering and ticking of the clocks.
    Lord Charles cleared his throat noisily. “Hah!” he said. “Yes. Well.”
    Everyone looked helplessly at one another.
    A diversion was created by the ancient footman who staggered forward bearing a small table laden with decanters, saffron cakes and Shrewsbury cakes.
    Lady Priscilla appeared to come out of some very pleasant dream. The Marquis had bitten into a Shrewsbury cake and was staring at the remains of it in mild astonishment. “Is anything wrong?” she asked anxiously.
    “No, indeed, ma’am,” drawled Chemmy politely, letting the remains of the cake fall on the floor where it was eagerly gobbled up by Caesar, who was promptly sick.
    Jennie took a cake from the plate offered to her by the footman and anxiously bit into it. It tasted as bitter as acid.
    “Grandmama!” she choked. “What on earth is in this Shrewsbury cake?”
    “Oh, dear,” replied Lady Priscilla. “I was afraid it might not answer. Cook told me we had no caraway seeds left and I found some pretty seeds lying in the garden and I thought they would do just as well.”
    “Do not worry about it,” said the Marquis. “The madeira is excellent.”
    “It
is?
” cried Lady Priscilla, with such surprise that the Marquis sniffed warily at his glass and wondered if she could possibly have made it herself.
    Another long silence fell, this time broken by Guy. “It’s deuced stuffy in here,” he said. “I shall just take Jennie for a breath of air in the garden.”
    “No, you won’t,” barked Lord Charles, breaking into articulate speech for the first time. “The young couple want to be alone to get acquainted.” He got stiffly to his feet and held out his arm to his wife. Jennie nervously watched her grandparents leave the room.
    Guy grinned down at her. “Best be off, Jennie.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Don’t forget…”
    Jennie watched him go with her heart in her eyes. Then she reluctantly turned her attention to her betrothed.
    “Do you wish this marriage?” asked the Marquis, in a pleasant, uninterested sort of voice.
    Jennie looked at the large dandy with amused contempt. He was idly playing with his vinaigrette. She noticed that his cambric shirt was so fine it was nearly transparent and was embroidered with small bunches of forget-me-nots.
    Take away his tailor
, she thought in disgust,
and there would be nothing left but a great oaf
.
    Summoning up her courage, she got to her feet and walked to stand in front of the Marquis. He politely rose from his chair and Jennie found to her dismay that she had to crane her neck to look up at him.
    “My lord,” she began, “I am sure you do not want this marriage any more than I do. It would be more dignified to cease this charade.”
    “Oh, no,” remarked the Marquis with great good humor, “I don’t consider it a charade at all. I wish to be married.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous,” remarked Jennie crossly, her temper rising. “You
can’t
want to marry me. You don’t even know me.”
    “That can be remedied.”
    “You can’t
force
me to marry you,” said Jennie, tears of anger beginning to sparkle in her large hazel eyes.
    “No?” he said. “I can, in a way. We were legally betrothed when you were in your cradle. What frightens you about this marriage?”
    “I do not love you,” she said tremulously.
    “Of course not,” replied the Marquis with infuriating calm. “I do not believe in love at first sight. But I think we should deal together tolerably well. Come, my child, be reasonable. Would you not like to have your own establishment and fine clothes and a Season in London?”
    “Y-yes, of course I would like that. But I cannot be your wife.” Here she flung her head back in an overdramatic gesture worthy of that well-known actress, Mrs. Jordan… “unless you agree to a marriage of convenience, a marriage in name only.”
    He took so long to answer that her neck began to hurt and she had to