Free When a Marquess Loves a Woman by Vivienne Lorret Page A

grumbled.
    Mother offered an absent shrug before she flashed an invitation in front of him. “Here is one from Colonel Owen. Miss Owen is intelligent, though she has bright red hair and freckles. Does that bother you?”
    Was she even listening to any of his responses at all? “Not in the least.”
    â€œYou are quite unlike your brother. Bram only wanted to pursue the pretty girls.”
    â€œOnly those deemed pretty by the ton . Aside from that, I don’t know if he ever had a preference. He was set on marrying the Original .”
    â€œYes. Terrible business. Usually, the Original is a fine representation of the tradition, but Miss Leonard turned into such a wild creature after they married. And with Bram so determined to have her, and she him, I thought their natures would balance each other out after a time. However, I’m no longer certain of it. When Bram writes—which is not often enough—I hear less and less about her. It makes me wonder if she is still traveling a great deal with her friends, as she had been inclined to do from the beginning.” Mother released a tired exhale. “I’d hoped that, by now, I might have been a grandmother.”
    Max had thought as much as well. After all, Bram had been married five years now. Yet there was no silencing the rumors that Lady Engle had become a favorite in France with both female and male companions. “Perhaps it is time for him to return to England and think about his responsibilities.”
    Bram had inherited a seat in the House of Lords, but he’d never taken advantage of it. He cared too little for the longevity of their country and the lives of the people who resided within it and too much about seeking his own pleasures. As for Max, he spent the majority of his day garnering support to repeal the Corn Laws, believing that a reduction in food costs was the first step for lessening the financial strains in the north counties.
    â€œHe is not like you, Max. He has no desire for politics.” She stacked the cards together, gathering them in her hands. “For him, arguing is pointless unless certain victory awaits.”
    Max chuckled. “Everyone enjoys winning an argument.”
    â€œTrue,” Mother agreed with a smile. “You, however, enjoy all of it, from the inception to the end result. You will need a bride who is not only intelligent but of mild temperament as well.”
    Max shook his head in disagreement. “I would want my wife to be someone who is unafraid to speak her mind. There is no enjoyment in a one-sided argument.”
    Mother lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “It may come as a surprise to you, but most people do not enjoy conflict. Unless members of the ton begin hosting debates instead of balls, I fear you will encounter difficulty finding any debutante who fills your short list of criteria.”
    â€œCapital notion!” he quipped, gesturing to the invitations in her grasp. “Find a debate in any of those cards, and I would be glad to attend.”
    She wagged the stack at him. “This is no time for jesting. Surely you are eager to settle into your estate in Lancashire. You have only been there once since you inherited and not even for a sennight.”
    The reason he’d left so soon was because he’d been inundated with visits from nearly every country gentleman with a daughter, or five , requesting his attendance at dinners and assemblies.
    At first, Max had been thrilled by the prospect of meeting so many of the people living near his estate. But soon it had become apparent that they only wanted him to marry their daughters. Max, on the other hand, wanted to know their thoughts, their concerns and issues, because he wanted to represent their interests in Parliament. But in such circumstances, he had received little more than an abundance of politeness coming forth with all the cordiality of a suitor courting a debutante.
    â€œAs I have said