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âShe seems to think a scholarly gentleman will suit her.â
âI was at the top of my class at Oxford.â Clearly he was out of his mind.
Olivia only stared at him.
âFine. Iâm not on the list ⦠not that I want to be,â he added just in case he hadnât been clear on that. âSo, since Iâm not worthy to be there, would you mind telling me what you think Iâm going to do with it?â
âYou know the gentlemen on that list, right?â she asked.
Marcus nodded.
âHow difficult would it be for you to arrange to bring some of them by here to meet my friend while sheâs staying with me?â Olivia picked at an invisible piece of something on the skirt of her dress as she asked the question.
He wasnât going to refuse her. There was little he could refuse his sister. But that didnât mean Marcus planned to give in easily.
âYou want me to round up the men and parade them through the house like a Tattersalls auction?â he asked.
Olivia rolled her eyes. âI donât want them all here at the same time, Marcus. It would make much better sense for you to bring them by individually.â
He gaped. âThere are at least thirty names here.â
âI donât want Emma to have to settle,â she said as though he were a barbarian for suggesting otherwise.
Emma.
So that was the mysterious friendâs name. He liked it, Marcus decided. Not that it mattered what he thought of the name or even the woman herself. Supposedly, they wouldnât suit.
âSuppose I decide to help,â he said finally. âWhy exactly would I be doing it again?â
Olivia sobered. As she leaned forward, Marcus saw the concern lurking behind the humor in her eyes. âEmma really needs a husband, Marcus. I want to helpâand I told her that you would be happy to, as well. You do want to help, donât you?â
âA damsel in distress?â he muttered.
Olivia nodded, without any trace of irony.
With that, he was sunkâand he could tell Olivia knew it. But before he could say anything, there was a gentle tap at the door.
âCome in,â his sister called out, and Marcus could hear the door behind him open.
âOh, Iâm sorry,â a womanâEmma?âsaid. âI didnât realize you had company.â Her voice was pleasant, Marcus noted. Low and sweet, and ⦠oddly familiar.
âNo, Emma,â Olivia said, motioning her forward. âYouâre fine. Please come sit with us. Marcus and I were just talking about you.â The woman crossed around the room to take a seat beside Olivia, giving Marcus his first look at her. It was a struggle not to let his shock show.
Damsel in distress, indeed, he thought to himself, as he stared at the governess from Cheapside.
So this is Emma. He looked down at the list of names in his hand and frowned. He hadnât liked being left off the list even before he knew for whom it was intended.
For some reason, he liked it even less now.
Chapter Three
âMaybe I should leave the two of you to your meeting,â Emma said, rising from her seat and preparing to make her escape from the room.
âNot at all,â Mr. Fairfax answered before Olivia had a chance to. His smirk widened.
A red-hot blush stole through Emmaâs cheeks, making her feel like the temperature in the room had risen dramatically. âNo, truly,â she argued, âI can talk to Olivia later. Right, Olivia?â she asked, looking to her friend for assistance.
Either Olivia was oblivious to Emmaâs distress, or she found the situation humorous, because the marchioness didnât seem willing for her to go.
âOf course you wonât leave. I have to introduce you,â her friend said.
âYou really donât,â Emma muttered. She was sure no one had heard her until she noticed that Mr. Fairfaxâs smile had widened impossibly further, and his eyes glinted mischievously.
âMarcus, allow me to introduce my friend, Emma Mercer.â She smiled at Emma, as though to reassure her that Mr. Fairfax wouldnât bite. âAnd Emma, this is my brother, Marcus Fairfax, the Earl of Westin.â
Her brother?
An earl?
Emma thought she might throw up.
She had punched an earl in the face ⦠albeit accidentally. Was there any way to slink out of the room and pretend sheâd never knocked on the door?
Sadly, it appeared too late for that option.
âThere was no need for the introductions, Olivia,â the man said, drawing Emmaâs gaze.
Emma hated the fact that he was more handsome than any man had a right to be. And she hated the fact that sheâd noticed.
âThere isnât?â Olivia asked. Her look of surprise was almost comical. If Emma had been inclined to find anything about the situation remotely humorous, that was.
Mr. Fairfaxâthe Earl of Westin, she amendedâlooked to be enjoying himself far too much. He nodded. âWho do you think gave me the black eye?â
Marcus barely contained his laughter. He wasnât sure whose expression amused him most. Olivia looked like she might fall out of her seat ⦠either that or injure her neck because she kept whipping it back and forth between Marcus and Miss Mercer.
As for the other lady ⦠Well, Marcus quickly decided that anger only made Miss Emma look even more appealing. Which was fortuitous, he supposed, because she looked mad enough to blacken his other eye. Purposely this time.
âWho ⦠she ⦠you â¦?â Olivia couldnât seem to form a complete thought. With each half-uttered word, his sister looked at him and then back at her friend. The gaze leveled at him was slightly accusatory.
Miss Mercer had her hands folded together in her lap, a beatific look on her face as though to suggest she would be the last person capable of doing anyone bodily harm.
Marcus could have made it easy on her. Could have explained to Olivia that the injury was accidental. But he wasnât in the least inclined to do so and ruin the fun of the moment. Heaven knows, he could use some amusement after the fear and uncertainty that had swamped him for the past few days.
Finally, Olivia settled on a reponse. She turned to look at her friend. âYou hit Marcus?â Oliviaâs tone was surprised ⦠not censuring.
The young woman looked like she was about to answer, even though Marcus thought it seemed pretty clear that the only thing she wanted to do was pick up her skirts and run from the room. âWell ⦠we ⦠itâs really â¦â
He was going to be a chivalrous gentleman and rescue her. âDonât look so surprised, Olivia. I recall you having a violent streak of your own.â
The comparison was enough to rile the previously tongue-tied Miss Mercer. âI hardly have a violent streak!â she defended. âIt was an accident.â
Marcus made a âhmmingâ noise deep in his throat. Mostly just to irritate his sisterâs friend. He found that he quite liked the high flush on her cheeks and the fire in her gray eyes.
âAnd even if it werenât accidentalâwhich it was,â she added as an impassioned aside to Olivia, âyou would have deserved it for accosting me.â
If Miss Mercer had noticed how wide Oliviaâs eyes grew with speculation at that statement, she probably would have stopped her passionate defense. As it was, with the two women sitting side by side, Marcus was the only one with the benefit of reading both expressions.
Oliviaâs was the height of amused curiosity.
Miss Mercerâs bordered on horrified.
Smothering a laugh, Marcus interrupted her. âI was rescuing, not accosting. Which you wouldnât have needed had you not been on such an unsavory street at such a late hour.â
Miss Mercerâs eyes narrowed. And Marcus had the distinct impression that she might now like to punch him in the mouth instead.
âI was perfectly safe.â She turned to Olivia as though she was about to try and convince her friend of the truth of that statement.
Marcus could tell by Oliviaâs expression that his sister was too busy trying to smother her own smirk than trying to tamp down her interest in the saga unfolding before her. âDonât worry about me, Emma,â she said, her voice almost choked with laughter. âIâm just listening quietly.â
Emma whirled back on him. âAnd you should tell her it was an accident!â she nearly yelled. âItâs not as though I would have hit you on purpose.â
âYou wouldnât have?â he asked, keeping his face as impassive as he could manage.
âThat might not be true right now,â she nearly growled at him.
Olivia rose suddenly from her seat. âDid someone call for me?â she asked no one in particular, as though the room were populated with at least a hundred people.
âNo!â Emma said at the exact moment Marcus said â¦
âMaybe.â
Olivia smiled approvingly at him. With a nod, she brushed out her skirts and began walking toward the door.
âI think Iâll just go check,â Olivia said. She spared a look for Emma that was probably supposed to be apologetic. But her expression was too speculative to be sincere. âItâs a big house. People are always needing something. You just never know.â Then the marchioness shrugged.
âNo, you never know,â Marcus agreed, relaxing back against his seat, enjoying the rapid-fire emotions that flitted across Miss Mercerâs face.
While he would never be so ungentlemanly as to accuse a gently bred woman of doing so, he couldnât help but notice to himself that his sister ran from the room.
Leaving a murderous-looking Miss Mercer in her wake.
âNo one was calling her,â the lady said unnecessarily.
âNo, they werenât,â he agreed with a small smile.
âYouâre an awful person,â she said then.
Marcus tensed a little, wondering if heâd taken his teasing too far and now she was truly put out with him. âWhyâs that?â he drawled slowly.
âFor letting your sister think I hit you. She might be upstairs packing my bags for me.â While the words had a forced lightness to them, Marcus could hear the genuine fear underneath.
All the humor drained from the situation. And Marcus felt like a cad.
It was impulsiveâand probably foolishâbut he rose from his seat and crossed the few steps to be at her side. He covered her hands with one of his, stopping her from wringing them together.
âOliviaâs doing nothing of the sort. Honestly, if she thought youâd hit me on purpose, sheâd probably be out buying you a gift. I can only estimate how many times sheâs wanted to do the same.â Marcus hoped his smile put her at ease.
That brought out what looked to be a genuine smile ⦠although a small one. Marcus felt a flash of elation and pride at having wrested that expression out of her anxiety. And when he noticed that she hadnât tried to pull her hands away from his, he felt something else ⦠something warmer, more indefinable.
âOlivia shut the door behind her,â 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.
âSo why do you think she ran out of the room?â Miss Mercer asked after a few seconds.
Marcus grinned. âShe was giving us some time alone.â
The complete innocence in Miss Mercerâs expression was refreshing. âWhy?â she asked.
âTo see what we would do.â
âWhat weâd do?â she echoed.
Marcus nodded. âShe probably thought you might like the chance to punch me again.â
Miss Mercer laughed. It was the first time heâd 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.
âSo what did Olivia think you might want to do?â 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 wasnât succumbing to tender feelings just because a pretty womanâthis particular pretty womanâsmiled 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.
âOlivia likely thought Iâd want to talk about the particulars of finding you a husband.â
Emma choked.
On air.
âYou will be helping me find a husband?â
His teasing smile gave way to a sheepish expression. âMy sister has decided that I will, so it seems highly likely. Sheâs accustomed to getting her way. Iâd like to lay the blame on her indulgent husband, but Iâm afraid her indulgent brother was the first to set the trend in place.â
âSo you will ⦠that is ⦠youâI donât understand.â Mentally, she scolded herself for sounding like such a ninny, but really, how was she supposed to respond? Olivia had truly asked the man sheâd assaulted to find her a husband? What if he married her off to a boxing master in revenge?
âIâm here today by Oliviaâs summons,â the earl explained. âWhen I arrived, she presented me with the following list.â He waved a piece of paper in the air. âItâs the names of all the gentlemen Iâm supposed to coerce into calling on youâby means of physical force, if necessary.â