Free How to Manage a Marquess by Sally Mackenzie Page B

it glow like a halo.
    â€œ. . . whom you’ve already met, of course.”
    What?! His eyes snapped back to Davenport’s face. The man’s expression was rather too bland.
    Had Anne told her father about their interlude in the Spinster House garden?
    No, if she had, Davenport would be far less cordial. Hell, he’d likely be insisting the vicar marry them today as well. He was letting his imagination run away with him.
    He glanced back at Anne. She was noticeably pale, staring at her father with a look of horror.
    Right, then. Time to say something, anything, to keep the baron’s attention on him, because if Davenport looked at his daughter now, he’d have his suspicions, whatever they were, confirmed.
    â€œYes. I had the pleasure of meeting Miss Davenport briefly at Cupid’s Inn the day after I arrived in Loves Bridge.” He looked at Anne. She was still too pale. “I believe you were there for a planning meeting regarding the village fair, were you not, Miss Davenport?”
    Her lovely—but panicked—blue eyes regarded him blankly.
    â€œAre plans for the fair proceeding well?” he prompted her.
    â€œOh.” She blinked and gathered her composure. “Yes. Yes, everything is shaping up nicely. The fair isn’t for a while yet, so there’s plenty of time to attend to the details. And it really doesn’t change much from year to year. We—”
    Her father put his hand on her arm to stop her nervous chatter. “We should let Lord Haywood get back to what he was doing, Anne. The ceremony will begin shortly.”
    â€œYes, I’m afraid I do need to familiarize myself with this organ. Each instrument has its own peculiarities, you know. But perhaps we’ll have the opportunity for further conversation later.” He bowed slightly to Lord Davenport and gave Anne what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
    Well, perhaps reassuring was not the message he should be trying to send her, he thought as he watched her walk away. He definitely intended to have a few words with her, but they might be anything but reassuring.
    He turned back to regard the organ, but his mind wasn’t on the instrument. When he’d arrived at Loves Castle yesterday, he’d had a number of upsetting surprises, but the worst was learning that rumors about Marcus and Miss Catherine Hutting and their disappearance into the vicarage bushes had spread throughout the village.
    There could be only one source for that gossip.
    He clenched his hands. Worse, he’d discovered Marcus had actually offered for the girl. Thank God she’d turned him down. If she hadn’t, the tenor of his upcoming conversation with Miss Davenport would be very different.
    He forced himself to concentrate on the organ—the musical organ. His own organs—his silly heart and randy cock—were insisting that Miss Davenport was innocent of any wrongdoing despite the evidence to the contrary or, if she wasn’t innocent, that she should be forgiven.
    He sat down and focused on the music he was about to play.
    * * *
    â€œLord Haywood, Mr. Linden, please, take a break and have something to eat and drink,” Mrs. Hutting said. They were in the parish hall, entertaining the villagers now that the ceremony was over.
    Mr. Linden, farmer and Loves Bridge fiddler, put down his instrument and wiped his brow with his handkerchief. “I am a mite thirsty, Mrs. Hutting.”
    â€œOf course you are. You’ve been playing for almost an hour.” She turned to smile at Nate. “And you, my lord, have played even longer. I must tell you again how beautiful the organ sounded in church today. Mr. Hutting and I so very much appreciate having a musician of your caliber help us celebrate Mary’s wedding.”
    â€œI’m happy to be of assistance, madam.” A polite lie. Since Marcus had insisted on being here, Nate had had no choice but to come, too.
    He glanced around.