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

before, I will return when I have found my bride.”
    â€œIt seems to me,” Mother began, pausing as one does while wielding a hammer, sizing up the head of the nail before continuing, “that you spend far more time thinking about your wager with Juliet instead.”
    â€œI can manage both at the same time,” he proclaimed but wasn’t sure he fully believed it. Since Juliet had returned to town, he’d been distracted. He’d bought a house on impulse, found himself in a wager with her, hired a troop of laborers to repair the house, entered into another wager with her, licked cake from her fingers, caught himself thinking of cake quite often, and now ice . . . “Besides, once I have won there will be no more distractions.”
    Mother crossed her arms. “And no more debutantes, if you are going to wait until month’s end.”
    He crossed his arms as well, reclining in his chair. “Then you had better make a decision about which event I’m escorting you to this evening.”
    She narrowed her eyes. “We will be attending Lord and Lady Simpkin’s ball. I’ve been told by Lady Simpkin herself that their ballroom can hold two hundred comfortably and four in a crush. It opens to the garden as well, which I know appeals to you. Since it promises to be a lovely evening, I’m certain everyone will be in attendance. Perhaps even someone who enjoys debating every topic as much as you do.”
    While Max knew of no debutante who matched that particular description, he knew of a certain widow who did. Once again, instinct warned him to stay away from such events where Juliet might be present. Yet it paled in comparison to the galvanic expectation buzzing through him.

C HAPTER F IVE
    T he rumored enormity of Lord and Lady Simpkin’s ballroom was vastly overstated. Juliet should have known better than to be lured by Marjorie Harwick’s enthusiasm when she’d dropped by for tea earlier. There were no more than a hundred bodies crushed into the ballroom space and another hundred milling about the torch-lit garden. And these two hundred guests were four times more than what ought to have been invited.
    Unfortunately, there was nothing that could be done of it now, when Juliet had declined the other invitations for this evening. Besides, Viscount Ellery was here, and he was Juliet’s primary focus.
    In fact, most of the notable members of the ton were present, all but one. Strangely enough, Max wasn’t here. Was he at another engagement, possibly one where he could watch over his own candidate? Hmm . . . Not for the first time, she wondered whom he had chosen. Though surely it was no one as admired as Ellery.
    Even now, her candidate was surrounded by a bevy of blushing debutantes, standing by the large sundial in the center of the walled garden. All the while, a scattered constellation of approving mothers watched on with eager anticipation. Ellery was not simply one of the most sought-after bridegrooms, but he was also well liked by every gentleman he knew.
    A sense of certain victory washed over her like a cooling rain after a storm. Already she’d begun to imagine dressing each room of her townhouse in new silk wallpaper, stunning Axminster carpets, and freshly upholstered furnishings.
    â€œAh, there is Marjorie now,” Zinnia said from beside her, smoothing a pleat down the front of her modest pistachio green gown. “Though I do wish she would have directed Lord Thayne to enter through the garden gate as we did, to avoid the gauntlet of guests.”
    Juliet’s gaze whipped to the far side of the ballroom and suddenly spied a familiar dark head, his mother on his arm. Marjorie looked elegantly disheveled in her bronze-colored gown and the tiered earbobs that swayed as she shook her head at the crowd. Max bent his head in conversation with her, the line of his broad shoulders turning slightly within his impeccably tailored slate gray