The Reluctant Marquess Read Online Free Page A

peacock in his silk taffeta coat. He’d made her a bit apprehensive, but she had felt reasonably capable of standing up to him. He now appeared powerful, the rightful lord of the manor, his clothes emphasizing his narrow waist and broad shoulders. In a way he was closer to a vision she had of a knight of old. One of King Arthur’s court, perhaps capable of launching a siege. In another way, he seemed even more remote from her, as if he’d carefully constructed a wall or a shield, to fend off trespassers. Charity smiled.
    “What’s amusing?”
    She didn’t know he’d been watching her. “Just a thought.”
    “Care to let me in on it?”
    Her cheeks grew warm. “I don’t think you’d find it amusing.”
    His blue eyes gleamed beneath raised brows. “Why don’t you give me the benefit of the doubt?”
    Heavens. What had she got herself into? Could he read her mind? She squirmed in her seat. “I, uh, was thinking about this old castle. I could envisage a knight riding into the forecourt in his armor.”
    He studied her. “I have a feeling you’ve left something out.”
    She shrugged. Surely her thoughts were her own at least. “It wasn’t important.” She glowered at him. “Really.”
    “Very well.” He rattled his paper as if he’d grown annoyed.
    But his voice sounded mild when he said. “You have an active imagination. Are you artistic like your father?”
    “I believe so.”
    “Excellent. You’ll find much to amuse yourself when by yourself.” She crumbled the last of her roll and studied him from under her lashes. His coal-black hair was thick and silky, his skin smooth and olive-toned. His dark brows formed a peak when she’d surprised him, and they almost met in the middle when he frowned. He had frowned a lot during the previous evening, but now a tiny smile, albeit a self-satisfied one at hiding her away in one of his properties, no doubt, hovered around his generous mouth. She wished she could think of something witty, she felt an urge to make him laugh, but that urge died when he resumed talking.
    “I thought if you found the situation to your liking, we could be married in the parish church here. I’ll arrange it with the parson and travel to the Doctors Commons in London for a special license.”
    A piece of bread lodged in Charity’s throat. She spluttered. “Are you all right?”
    She took a long sip of coffee. “Yes, I think so. It’s just that it’s very sudden.” I can’t go through with this, she thought.
    “Yes, it is, and I’m sorry. I know you women like to turn the occasion into something special. Family and so forth. But you don’t have brothers or sisters, do you?”
    “No. Do you?”
    “Yes. A younger sister and brother.”
    Charity longed to be part of a large, boisterous family. “Would they come here to meet me? If we should marry.” He shook his head. “Neither will my parents.”
    Shocked, she said, “Your parents wouldn’t come to your wedding?”
    “No.” His blue eyes turned glacial, and his expression brooked no more questions.
    She gazed at him uneasily, wondering what lay behind his bleak countenance. Was it to do with her?
    Then as if the subject had never come up at all, he tapped his chin. “Does this mean you accept my offer?”
    “No, it doesn’t.” Annoyed, she clanged down her knife and pushed her plate away. He took her for granted and didn’t consider her wishes at all. He might have asked her properly.
    Was this to be all about him? The man she married was to be considerate of her feelings, as he would love her. She chewed her bottom lip. “I’ll give you my answer after I’ve seen the will.”
    “Very well,” he said mildly, attacking the remaining food on his plate as if all would be resolved like magic just to suit him. Everyone and everything, she thought with a shrug of annoyance, must revolve around his needs.
    Charity stirred her tea with an agitated motion, watching him serenely chewing the last bit of ham.
    He