Free Mary Balogh by A Counterfeit Betrothal; The Notorious Rake Page A

here a little longer?”
    “I shall stay here,” she said.
    He nodded and turned away. But her voice stopped him when he had his hand on the latch of the door.
    “Marcus,” she said. He looked back over his shoulder. “I am glad that you have kept the garden.”
    He smiled and let himself back out into the wood.
    I kept it for you
, he wanted to tell her. But it would not have been strictly true. It was for himself that he had kept it. Because it reminded him of Livy and the perfectionof the life they had had for almost five years before he had destroyed it in one stroke by trying to prove to a crowd of drunken men who meant nothing whatsoever to him that he was a real man.
    He closed the door quietly behind him.

5
    S HE HAD NOT PLAYED CHARADES FOR YEARS , THE Countess of Clifton thought, laughing after a particularly energetic round and seating herself to catch her breath. She always attended every assembly and social gathering in the neighborhood of Rushton, but for years she had been considered a member of the older generation and had sat with them, merely observing the more energetic sports of the young.
    But Sophia had insisted that she join in the game this evening and Mr. Hathaway had echoed her urgings. Marcus had left the drawing room soon after the gentlemen joined the ladies following dinner, taking Lord Francis with him. Sophia had been flushed and frenzied ever since.
    A footman had come into the room and was speaking with the duke and duchess and then turned in Olivia’s direction. “His lordship requests the pleasure of your company in the library, ma’am,” he said quietly for her ears only and then looked about him for Sophia.
    The countess smiled at the duke and duchess as all three of them made their way to the door.
    “So we are to be put out of our misery, Olivia,” His Grace said. “Is it to be yes or no, eh?” He chuckled.
    “The interview has certainly lasted long enough,” theduchess said. “All of an hour. Have they been talking business all of that time, do you suppose?”
    “And so, Olivia,” the duke said, as they all paused outside the library for another footman to open the doors for them, “we are to be rid of our last boy and you of your only girl all at the same time. We will have nothing to trouble our old age except the arrival of grandchildren.”
    The earl was the only occupant of the library. He was standing with his back to the fireplace, his hands behind his back. He smiled at them.
    “Well, Marcus,” the duke said, “did that scamp of a son of mine impress you sufficiently, or did you send him packing?”
    “I have consented to his making his offer to Sophia,” the earl said. “I believe he is doing so at this very moment.”
    “Splendid, splendid,” the duke said, rubbing his hands together while the duchess fumbled in a pocket for a handkerchief and the countess watched her husband. “And when are the nuptials to be? Before Christmas, I hope. There is no point in waiting around once the intention has been expressed, I always say.”
    “In one month’s time,” the earl said. “Your son wishes to have the betrothal announced tonight, William, if Sophia will give her consent—and I don’t believe there can be much doubt that she will do so. He wants the first banns read on Sunday.”
    The duchess shrieked and buried her face in her handkerchief.
    “Here?” His Grace said. “Not in St. George’s like our other boys? Well, a quiet country wedding has its charm, I must admit. You and Olivia were married here, were you not, Marcus? A charming wedding, as I remember. So Francis is proving to be as impulsive as ever, is he, and insisting on no delay? Now don’t take on so, Rose.No one has died. And, indeed, little Sophia may yet refuse him.”
    “But how can we be ready in one month?” Her Grace wailed. “Olivia?”
    “I am sure it can be done,” the countess said soothingly. “The invitations can be sent off tomorrow. They are the most urgent.