The Marriage Lesson (5 page)

“I’ve already decided the adventures should be published anonymously. It will add more excitement for readers if the author is unknown.”

“No one can resist a secret.” Jocelyn grinned. “Or a scandal. And if Becky or I”—she glanced at the younger girl—“should have any interesting adventures of our own, you may use them for your stories. Besides, no one is going to know you’re the author and if you don’t use real names for any other characters—”

“I can use initials,” Marianne said quickly. “Let’s see, the guardian could be Lord . . . ”
H
for Helmsley?
E
for Effington?
R
for Roxborough?
T
for Thomas? The annoying man had so many names and titles he claimed half the alphabet. Lord . . . 
who?
Marianne grinned. Of course.
Lord Who
. “He shall be Lord W. That will work.”

“
W
for What’s-his-name.” Becky giggled.

“Or Wonderfully Wealthy.” Jocelyn laughed.

“Or Wildly Wicked.” Marianne nodded with satisfaction. “Perfect. Now all I have to do is actually write my first adventure.” At once she knew exactly what that first adventure would be. She started toward the door. “If anyone wants me, I shall be in my room for the rest of the morning.”

“Don’t forget, the duchess’s ball is in two days,” Jocelyn called after her, “and we have a dancing lesson this afternoon. If you aren’t prompt, Aunt Louella will—”

Adventures beginning with a bit of brandy and a forbidden kiss in the night.

Not that Effington House hadn’t seen its share of galas in the past, but his parents, or rather his mother, had always been here to oversee the arrangements. Luckily, she’d been deep in the throes of planning the event before deciding to leave the country. Invitations had been sent, menus compiled, flowers ordered and an orchestra already hired before his parents abandoned him for the wilds of America.

The duchess had done everything she could to ensure the ball was a success. After all, the event did carry her name, even if she wasn’t present, and there were standards to be maintained. She’d left detailed instructions in the hands of the house steward. And had, as well, exchanged a flurry of letters with the girls’ aunt, Lady Dragon, who probably had a real name, but he could not for the life of him remember it. She was now ostensibly overseeing the chaos here in addition to readying her nieces for their debut into society.

Still—Thomas uttered a silent oath—as the only Effington in residence, he was essentially responsible for the success or failure of the fete, a responsibility he’d neither asked for nor wanted. He hadn’t the vaguest idea what, if anything, he should be doing, and thought it was probably best if he simply stayed out of the way. The staff was well trained and Thomas was confident they could carry it off without incident. Or, at least, he prayed they could.

Once he presided over this traditional offering of sweet young things to the gods of society, his evenings, and no doubt many of his afternoons, would be occupied with the duties of escort and protector.

Protector? He snorted to himself. The oldest needed nothing less than a jailer. All that nonsense she’d spouted last night about adventure and excitement and experiencing life. Well, she’d change her mind soon enough when presented with the right suitor. Thomas had already mentally compiled a list of possibilities and there were a considerable number of acceptable matches. He was not the only eligible bachelor in England under pressure to marry.

It shouldn’t be all that difficult to find a decent match for Marianne, as long as she kept her mouth shut. She really was quite lovely, with that halo of blond curls rebelliously dancing around her head. He couldn’t resist a smile. No wonder, in the dim light of the library, he’d thought she was a celestial vision. And when they’d kissed . . . 

His smile faded. Blasted woman. Why had she insisted he kiss her? Of course, if he hadn’t he had no doubt she would have carried out her threat to find someone who would. The best thing for her, for them
both,
was to get her wed as quickly as possible.

“Lord Helmsley.”

He flinched at the piercing voice and turned slowly, forcing a polite smile to his face. “Good day, Lady Dra—er, my lady.” The older woman stood in the open doorway of the ballroom, a diminutive figure with the commanding, no-nonsense air of a general about her. “It appears preparations are well in hand for the festivities.”

“Indeed they are.” She sniffed as though the very idea that all was not under control was inconceivable. “I have no concerns about the duchess’s ball whatsoever, although I do wish your mother could be with us. Nonetheless, I have tried to carry out her instructions and wishes to the best of my abilities.”

“And admirably, too, I’m certain. I have no doubt this will be one of the highlights of the season. Now, then, if there is nothing else, I shall bid you good day.” He nodded and stepped toward the stairs.

“Oh, but there
is
something else, my lord.”

His heart sank. He’d known the moment he’d seen her she had more on her mind than a mere exchange of pleasantries. The determined glint in her eye gave her away. He drew a deep breath and turned back to her. “How may I help you?”

“If you would be so kind as to join us in the ballroom.” She moved aside and waved him into the room.

Lady Dragon started toward the girls, and he had no choice but to fall in beside her. “We are finishing a dancing lesson and it would be helpful if there was a new partner available.”

“I am nothing if not helpful,” he said under his breath, mentally adding dancing partner to the list of grievances he planned to present to his mother upon her return. He wasn’t entirely certain what, if any, satisfaction he’d get from such a presentation; still, it did ease his irritation somewhat to acknowledge he was prepared.

Lady Dragon cast him a sharp glance. “I’m certain you understand it would not do to have them stumble about the floor like drunken sailors.”

“Of course not,” he murmured, pushing aside the unbidden but annoyingly delightful image of a tipsy Marianne.

They approached the group at the end of the room and he noted for the first time the resemblance between the sisters.

All three were of a similar height, taller than he personally preferred but not overly so. Marianne was the fairest, her light blond hair a charming contrast to the eyes he now knew were brown behind her spectacles.

The girl beside her had hair a bit darker, more gold than blond, and squinted slightly at his approach. He wondered if she wore glasses as well.

Lady Dragon pursed her lips. “Lord Helmsley, surely you remember my nieces, although I must say we have scarce seen hide nor hair of you since our arrival. I’m certain that has been nothing more than an oversight on your part.”

“Indeed it has.” He smiled in his most charming manner. “An oversight I shall do my best to remedy.”

The trio studied him with a common expression of amusement mixed with challenge. There was something vaguely familiar about that look, but he couldn’t quite place it. He ignored a faint sense of unease. Had Marianne told them of his plans? It little mattered, he supposed. After all, wasn’t it the goal of every young woman to marry? Marianne was the exception—and he didn’t quite believe her protests.

It was obviously in his best interest to learn as much about these ladies as possible. If he were to find them husbands, it would help to determine what type of men would suit. Well, he’d certainly never had any problem talking to attractive women, and they’d never hesitated to talk to him.

He stepped to the redhead and raised her hand to his lips. “My dear Lady . . .  Lady . . . ” He faltered and groaned to himself.

“Rebecca,” the dragon said firmly.

“Becky,” the redhead said, just as firmly. She stared at him as if he were an interesting insect for her examination. “Everyone calls me Becky.”

“How would you know?” Becky said.

She shrugged. “I’ve no doubt heard it somewhere.”

“However,” he said quickly, “I shall have no problem whatsoever now remembering the names of my lovely guests.” He turned to the next sister and took her hand. “And you?”

“Jocelyn.” She too considered him carefully. He had the distinct impression she was assessing his merits and potential and wondered if he measured up to her standards. “Delightful to see you again, my lord.”

“Yes, well, I have been remiss in my duties and I will do my best to rectify that failing.” He kissed her hand. “Rest assured I will do everything in my power to make it up to you all now by being as attentive as possible.”

She tilted her head and favored him with a brilliant smile. Even as he returned it he realized neither she nor Becky would do anything they did not particularly wish to do. Up to and including marriage.

Abruptly he realized why the look the sisters had shared was so familiar. He’d seen it before on the face of every stubborn woman in the Effington family. Very well. He was an Effington man well used to dealing with women exactly like these three. Marrying them off might prove to be more of a task than he’d originally thought but what fun would life be without an occasional challenge? He was certainly up to it. And at the moment, he rather relished the idea of pitting his determination against these stubborn sisters. One in particular.

“My dear Lady Marianne. I trust you are well this morning?”

“Odd that he remembers
her
name,” Jocelyn said in a sidelong whisper to Becky just loud enough for him to hear.

He ignored her, his gaze lingering on Marianne’s.

“Quite.” She stared back at him, her eyes twinkled with amusement. “And what of you, my lord? Did you sleep well? No unusual dreams or disturbing visions late in the night?”

“Odd perhaps but not in the least disturbing.” He couldn’t resist a grin. “Although I daresay I shan’t be troubled in the future.”

“Oh?” She raised a skeptical brow. “Then you intend to give up evenings of drunken revelry?”

“Not at all.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice, his words meant for her ears alone. “I was not drunk and I intend to find you a husband as quickly as possible to take you in hand and keep you from accosting virtual strangers in libraries late at night.”

“We shall see, my lord,” she said softly, the corners of her mouth curving upward in a decidedly superior manner. “We shall see.”