How to Manage a Marquess by Sally Mackenzie

you—”
    â€œThat I’d stopped by on my way to White’s.”
    Nate looked over to see Alex walking toward him. “Splendid. I was just heading that way myself.” He glanced back at his butler. “Wilson, I’ve a stack of letters on my desk. See that they are posted, will you?”
    â€œOf course, my lord.”
    â€œShall we ask Marcus to join us?” Nate asked as he and Alex descended the front steps. Though now that he considered the matter, he realized Alex had had to pass Hart House to get to his place. “Or have you already spoken to him?”
    Alex nodded, frowning. “For some reason, Marcus won’t leave the house until after the post arrives. Said he’d come by White’s later.”
    â€œWhat could he be expecting in the post?” Nate avoided a fresh mound of horse dung as they crossed the street.
    â€œI have no idea.” Alex glanced at Nate. “He looks like hell, you know, and has the devil’s own temper.”
    â€œAh. So I’m not the only one he’s been snapping at.” From the moment they’d mounted their horses to leave Loves Bridge, Marcus had been peevish. At first Nate had thought Miss Davenport was correct and his cousin was just chafing under Nate’s watchfulness, so he’d tried to keep his distance. But if Marcus was short-tempered with Alex as well, something else must be at work. “Perhaps I should have a word with him.”
    Alex snorted. “Only if you wish to have your head ripped off. I hinted that he seemed a trifle out of sorts and he just about boxed my ears.”
    That was not like Marcus at all. “It must be the curse.”
    â€œOh? I would have thought it was Miss Hutting.”
    Nate stopped—and caused a stout man, following a bit too closely, to yelp and do an impressive series of steps to avoid running into him.
    â€œPardon me, sir,” Nate said, bowing.
    The man bowed in reply—with a glare—before continuing on his way.
    â€œFellow’s lighter on his feet than I would have guessed,” Alex said, watching him move off. “He’d make a good pugilist with that footwork.”
    â€œHe could fight Gentleman Jackson and win for all I care. What do you mean Miss Hutting’s to blame? I thought that was all settled.” Of course it was. It had to be. If it wasn’t—
    Nate forced his anxiety down and spoke more calmly. “Marcus offered and the woman declined. The gossip was dead and buried by the time of her sister’s wedding. She’s comfortably established in the Spinster House. Marcus can have a clear conscience.”
    â€œI wager it’s not his conscience that’s troubling him.” Alex started walking again.
    Nate frowned at Alex’s back and then caught up to him. “What do you mean? If not his conscience, then what?”
    â€œHis heart”—Alex grinned—“and a far less noble organ.”
    â€œRidiculous!” Good God, Alex couldn’t be right, could he? Miss Hutting was pretty enough, but nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing like Miss Davenport, whose blue eyes and blond hair—
    â€œDidn’t you notice how Marcus watched Miss Hutting during her sister’s wedding?” Alex asked.
    â€œOf course I didn’t. I was playing the organ, remember?”
    â€œAnd you didn’t notice him follow her out of the parish hall either.”
    â€œWhat?!” Nate’s blood roared in his ears. Alex had known Marcus was in danger and had done nothing to save him? He grabbed Alex’s arm. “You said he’d gone outside to the jakes.”
    â€œEek!” a female voice shrieked.
    This time the person following them did not manage to stop. A matronly female slammed into Nate’s side, her bonnet’s feathers slapping him in the face and obstructing his view of his assailant.
    â€œLady Dunlee,” Alex said, “how lovely to, er, bump