Free Candice Hern by Just One of Those Flings Page A

might be a haughty prig or a stern autocrat. It mattered to Beatrice, though. She knew first-hand what it meant to be married to an intractable husband. She hoped for more warmth and affection in her niece's marriage, and the marquess, at first acquaintance anyway, did not seem to be the man to provide it.
    And yet, how contrary was it that such an aloof man could send a little flutter of heat low in her belly when he looked at her? Beatrice really must rein in these absurd fancies and inappropriate physical reactions.
    Damn that maharaja for awakening her sexual desire. It would surely be the death of her.
     

CHAPTER 5
     
    It was not enough, apparently, that Thayne be introduced to young women at appropriate social occasions. Now his mother was bringing them home to meet him.
    Miss Thirkill was certainly pretty enough to capture any man's attention, though she did seem to be rather too aware of her beauty. The duchess would have approved her connections before parading her before him, so he did not question her breeding. Her aunt was a countess, after all. And the girl had pretty manners, even if she was a bit forward. But Thayne knew he was seen as a good catch, so he could hardly fault a young woman for trying to draw his attention.
    The aunt was an attractive woman and, as he did with all attractive women, he examined her for hints of Artemis. Lady Somerfield had blue eyes, but so did more than half the female population of London. Her hair was a rich shade of red and pulled back sleek and straight beneath a lace cap that was more stylish then matronly. It was lovely hair, but not the wavy brown he'd been seeking. Besides, she sat stiff-backed and prim as a governess, without a hint of sensuality. And she had the air of a fierce mother hen guarding her chick. It took only a moment to dismiss her as a potential Artemis.
    He glanced again at Miss Thirkill, who lowered her eyes demurely, then slowly raised her lids halfway to gaze at him through the screen of long lashes. The girl was a flirt, by God. Intriguing.
    She was more than merely pretty. She was, in fact, quite stunningly beautiful, with a heart-shaped face, guinea gold hair, a perfect complexion, a Cupid's bow mouth, and large blue eyes set off by darker lashes and brows. And she was well aware of her beauty. Every glance and gesture invited him to admire it.
    And he did, in a dispassionate sort of way. She was too young to truly interest him as a person. But he did consider how she would look on his arm, and how handsome their children might be.
    Burnett, on the other hand, appeared thoroughly moonstruck. Although friendly and charming as ever when addressed, he remained a step behind Thayne, not putting himself forward in any way. He knew Miss Thirkill was there for Thayne's inspection. If he had known his mother's summons had been for the purpose of meeting a young lady, Thayne might not have dragged Burnett and the duke with him. But they had been enjoying a hookah together and it had seemed quite natural for all of them to wait upon the duchess.
    Thayne hated these introductions. He hated the whole ordeal of finding a wife among the Season's latest crop of young women. He had to don his best lordly manner, to demonstrate pride and arrogance appropriate to his position, or the young women and their mother hens were interested in the marquess, heir to a dukedom, and he must act the part. It was not an unnatural or a difficult role, to be sure. He was born to it. A certain level of arrogance and entitlement had been bred in him from infancy. But he'd discarded some of it the last eight years during his travels, and he was somewhat out of practice at playing The Marquess. He made the effort for his parents, who expected him to do his duty.
    He glanced again at his mother's latest candidate. Yes, Miss Thirkill was definitely worth serious consideration. Assuming she did not turn out to be a complete ninny. He did not expect, or even want, a bluestocking for a