Free His Obsession by Ann B. Keller

especially
talented. She dressed modestly, never quite able to stomach the
frilly concoctions that apparently suited her sisters and the rest
of the ladies of the ton. She painted passably well, but she played
the piano abominably.
    Kate was last born in her household, too.
What little money her father possessed would no doubt go to dower
her sisters. There would probably be nothing left for her.
    Kate supposed that she should be grateful
that Viscount Marbury had even asked for her hand at all. Once wed,
she would go live with Marbury at his family’s estate, no doubt
playing hostess at the innumerable parties of which he was so fond.
Still, the very thought of the press of so many people made Kate
ill.
    Still, Kate would at last be like all of the
other young ladies her age. She would have a mate, a confidant.
Perhaps, with time, Marbury might even become a friend with whom
she could share all of her innermost thoughts and dreams. That was,
of course, if the viscount ever stopped speaking about himself long
enough to listen to her. It was ironic that the one time the man
had paused long enough for Kate to answer a question, it was to
give her the opportunity to place herself in servitude to him for
all time.
    Kate shuddered and flopped over on her
pillow. Through the wall, she could still hear Dorothea sobbing and
her mother’s gentle voice as she attempted to soothe her daughter.
Dorothea hated to be out of the limelight and to have a younger
sister become engaged before she did was an incredible insult.
    How thrilled Dorothea had been with the
attentions of the Earl of Devonshire, too. Now that Kate thought
about it, however, had Warwick ever sought her sister’s company on
his own? No. It had been Dorothea who easily slid her arm through
his to escort her in to dinner. Dorothea had commandeered the earl
at the Faversham’s ball and had also placed herself directly in
Richard’s path in their gardens, too. If the man hadn’t politely
stopped to assist Dorothea, he might have trampled her. The earl
was chivalrous and gallant. Never would he deliberately slight a
lady.
    Kate had to admit, she genuinely liked
Richard Warwick. Although the man made her a little nervous and
self-conscious, once she became used to his presence, she realized
she was happy. He tested Kate’s intelligence, urging her to reach
higher and higher, then beamed with approval at her successes.
    At luncheon earlier, Richard had encouraged
Kate to voice her opinion about the differences between the classes
and what should be done to correct the present social problems.
Kate had suggested that most of the nobility might be kinder to
their underlings if they traded places with them for even a week.
Those seated at the table had erupted into laughter, but not
Richard Warwick. The tall man had actually agreed with Kate, making
her feel positively wonderful – until Dorothea had purposely
dropped her napkin in an attempt to distract him.
    If Kate compared the earl with Viscount
Marbury, her desires became so clear. Richard Warwick possessed a
better title, of course, and rumor had it that he was as rich as
Croesus. That was mainly why Dorothea wanted him, of course. The
earl could grant her anything she desired.
    The viscount was pleasant enough to look
upon, too, Kate supposed. His blond curls were always perfectly
coifed. He had an almost effeminate face and small lips that made
him look as though he were constantly annoyed with something. Like
most men of the ton, he was unbearably self-centered. Never did the
viscount seem to tire of speaking about himself with anyone.
    Kate supposed she could do worse than to
marry Viscount Marbury. Hopefully, the wedding ceremony would be
mercifully brief, with the reception to follow. With luck, the
viscount would drink his way right underneath the table and she’d
be spared the wedding night completely.
    Eventually, however, Kate had to acknowledge,
even Viscount Marbury would demand an heir. Sooner or later,