Mandy Goff - Engaging the Earl

“Olivia shut the door behind her,” Miss Mercer said then, surprising him with the sudden change in conversation.

But Marcus followed her gaze and laughed. His sister was nothing if not enterprising.

“So why do you think she ran out of the room?” Miss Mercer asked after a few seconds.

Marcus grinned. “She was giving us some time alone.”

The complete innocence in Miss Mercer’s expression was refreshing. “Why?” she asked.

“To see what we would do.”

“What we’d do?” she echoed.

Marcus nodded. “She probably thought you might like the chance to punch me again.”

Miss Mercer laughed. It was the first time he’d heard her do so, and Marcus decided that she was exceptionally beautiful when she laughed. Her gray eyes twinkled. And as she tossed her head back, some of her shiny black hair slipped out of her fancy arrangement, tumbling to her shoulders. Her full lips quirked in a smile.

“So what did Olivia think you might want to do?” the lady asked. A guileless question.

Why, then, did Marcus want to answer her with a kiss?

Not that he would, of course. No, it was a completely inappropriate urge, and … and a ridiculous idea, besides. His lack of sleep was playing tricks with his head. After years of ducking and dodging every predatory female on the marriage mart, surely he wasn’t succumbing to tender feelings just because a pretty woman—this particular pretty woman—smiled at him. The very idea was absurd.

Yet, for all that, he was still careful to take a step away from temptation before he answered.

“Olivia likely thought I’d want to talk about the particulars of finding you a husband.”

Emma choked.

On air.

“ You will be helping me find a husband?”

His teasing smile gave way to a sheepish expression. “My sister has decided that I will, so it seems highly likely. She’s accustomed to getting her way. I’d like to lay the blame on her indulgent husband, but I’m afraid her indulgent brother was the first to set the trend in place.”

“So you will … that is … you—I don’t understand.” Mentally, she scolded herself for sounding like such a ninny, but really, how was she supposed to respond? Olivia had truly asked the man she’d assaulted to find her a husband? What if he married her off to a boxing master in revenge?

“I’m here today by Olivia’s summons,” the earl explained. “When I arrived, she presented me with the following list.” He waved a piece of paper in the air. “It’s the names of all the gentlemen I’m supposed to coerce into calling on you—by means of physical force, if necessary.”

Emma felt her back go rigid. Coerce into calling on her? By physical force? As if a man would have to be tricked or strong-armed before he’d consider courting her?

“I’m teasing, Miss Mercer,” he said, sitting back slightly when he must have felt her stiffen.

“I know that,” she snapped.

“Well, I wasn’t teasing about Olivia’s plan, but I am certain no coercion will be required once the gentlemen of London learn you are here,” he amended. “That’s truly my role in this arrangement—to arrange introductions.”

“I suppose I should be flattered by your optimism,” she said briskly. Rising quickly from her seat, Emma was almost surprised that the earl didn’t topple over to the floor. She hadn’t realized until then how much he’d been leaning against her.

“Were you aware of my sister’s plan to have me bring you a husband?” Lord Westin asked.

“No! That is, yes,” she stammered, turning her head to hide the blush. “That is, I was aware of the plan, but I didn’t know that you were to be a part of it. How could I have? I had no idea that you were her brother until moments ago! She said that she knew the man to help put the plan into action—I assumed she meant her husband. I hadn’t the slightest notion that she meant …”

“Me?” Lord Westin also rose to his feet, the motion fluid and graceful.

She decided then that no man should be able to move with the kind of lethal grace he did. It wasn’t decent. Nor, Emma continued—since she was already in a making-pronouncements mood—should any man be quite as handsome as the earl.

Handsome men didn’t bother her in general. And she’d known quite a few individuals who she would say had been given more than their fair portion of beauty. Olivia’s husband, for instance. The Marquess of Huntsford was attractive. In a completely nonthreatening, pleasant way.

Not so with the earl.

It wasn’t merely the handsomeness … although there certainly was that. It was the shrewdness, the playfulness and the intensity in his eyes, which all seemed to coexist in some strange commingling.

But Lord Westin was the last man for whom she should let herself feel an attraction. Olivia had recruited him to help her find a husband, which clearly meant that she did not consider him to be a good prospect—and who would know better than the man’s sister? Besides that, Emma couldn’t help but remember the condemnation in his eyes in the carriage on the way to the Roths’, when he scolded her for being in Cheapside. What would he think if he knew that her parents lived so nearby? Surely an earl would disdain anyone with such low connections.

Why should that thought bring her pain? What did she care for his good opinion? He was overbearing and teasing and … and he smirked too much.

“Maybe I should go find Olivia. Maybe she needs help with … whatever it is she’s doing.” Emma at least had the presence of mind to be embarrassed by her pathetic excuse. That didn’t, however, stop her from moving toward the door as she spoke.

“I doubt my sister needs your help eavesdropping,” he returned. With only a few, long strides, Lord Westin was by her side.

“I’m sorry if my teasing you has upset you,” he said seriously.

Deciding to take his proffered olive branch, Emma assured him she was fine—just worried about Olivia.

When Emma had turned her back to him and was preparing to continue her path toward the door, Lord Westin said suddenly, “You never did tell me what you were doing in Cheapside.”

“That was intentional,” she returned.

There was a little too much fervency in his tone for the question to be only polite curiosity. But she still had no intention of answering.

Olivia’s brother was probably a perfectly decent and caring man. Clearly he had been concerned that his joking had upset her. Maybe he wouldn’t treat her with disdain if he knew the truth. But Emma still didn’t want to tell him.

Nick and Olivia were the only people she’d told all about her family’s circumstances. Not that there were many people she could have told. Lady Roth had been entirely uninterested in the details of why she’d sought a position, and there was no one else to whom Emma was close. But even telling her friend had made Emma feel exposed and ready to be judged. She never forgot that she was associating with the nobility.

The Mercers were a respectable family, but even when her father was at his wealthiest, he’d never been a member of elevated society. The second son of a landed gentleman, her father was a scholar … a scholar who was unfortunately an abysmal custodian of the money he’d received as his inheritance in lieu of the estate that had passed to his older brother.