An Exquisite Marriage by Darcie Wilde Page A

become used to an irregular establishment, even before her mistress’s three protégés joined the household. Therefore, there was no fuss about providing coffee and sandwiches for His Grace, the duke, and a good fire greeted them in the cozy green parlor.
    â€œWere you really offered a post in the naval office?” asked Helene as they settled themselves in front of the hearth.
    Marcus nodded. “And I really turned it down. I have too many other responsibilities.”
    â€œYour estate business?”
    â€œAmong other things.”
    She said nothing.
    Marcus sighed. “Don’t tell me you’re going to suggest I ignore the needs of my family and my estate to bury myself in Rutherford’s offices?”
    â€œI never would. But estate management is something many people can do. Advanced mathematics and codes take a particular sort of . . .”
    â€œI said nothing about mathematics, or codes, Lady Helene,” he cut her off sharply. “Neither did Lord Rutherford.”
    â€œI retract the statement, because of course no one knows that the naval office was and is responsible for intercepting messages from foreign intelligences, some of which might be acting against the interests of the United Kingdoms. Certainly it’s never mentioned in the serial novels in the Sunday magazines along with the corrupt nuns and the bloody barons.”
    â€œYou read serial novels?”
    â€œSometimes my journals from the Royal Society are delayed. But to the point, an aptitude and an interest in mathematics—we shall leave codes entirely out of it since the subject distresses you—is not something that should be wasted.”
    The housekeeper brought the coffee in, and a tray of cold beef sandwiches to go with it. Helene poured out for them both, which made for a space of silence. Unfortunately, it was not long enough for Marcus to be willing to let the subject drop.
    â€œSuppose I had an aptitude for knitting tea cozies. Would you suggest I abandon my family for it?” he asked, and the question held a distinctly testy edge. Interesting.
    â€œThat is a specious argument, and I will thank you to cease from indulging in logical fallacies in the public square.”
    â€œWe are in a private parlor,” he corrected her.
    She shrugged and sipped the good coffee. “I am suggesting that when there is work only you can do, you should do it.”
    â€œAnd who will run the estate? Adele?”
    â€œYou don’t believe she could? She has a very sharp mind and truly impressive organizational abilities.”
    â€œYou cannot be serious.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    He was going to say it. Helene knew he was going to say it. She could tell by the way his face gathered itself up and his free hand gestured in a plea for patience because she could not see the obvious. “Because Adele is a girl.”
    There. He said it.
    â€œAnd no woman has ever successfully run an estate or a business.” Helene nodded. “Of course. I am forgetting. What were the gentlemen thinking when they allowed Queen Elizabeth to run the kingdom?”
    Marcus sighed. He also hung his head. This time it seemed rather less boyish, but then she was irritated that he should prove so conventional on this matter.
    â€œYes, Adele is very clever,” he said. “But an estate is a massive, complex undertaking. One has to be raised to it. Trained to it.”
    â€œAnd who do you think makes sure that your tenants’ cottages are in good repair, that the village schools are properly managed and staffed? Your aunt?”
    â€œWell, yes.”
    Helene shook her head. “Adele. She took on the duties to keep herself busy while . . . she was having difficulty in society. Aunt Kearsely was much more concerned with hostessing than she was with management and the obligations the estate owes to the tenants.”
    Marcus was staring at her. She’d surprised him.