Jacquie D'Alessandro by Who Will Take This Man Page A

viscount of questionable masculinity who will most likely fill their homes with ancient relics.”
    “I beg you to cease before all these complimentary words swell my head.”
    She ignored his dust-dry tone and continued pacing. “Of course, in order to ensure the reinstatement of my reputation, I must match you with just the perfect woman. Not just any woman will do.”
    “Well, thank goodness for that.”
    “But who?” She paced, puzzling it over in her mind, then she halted and snapped her fingers. “Of course! The perfect woman for the Most Unmarriageable Man in England is the Most Unmarriageable Woman in England!”
    “Ah. Yes, she sounds delightful.”
    Again she ignored him. “I can see the Society pages now—England’s Most Unmarriageable Man Weds England’s Most Unmarriageable Woman—and praise to Meredith Chilton-Grizedale, the acclaimed Matchmaker of Mayfair, for bringing them together.” She pursed her lips and tapped her index finger against her chin. “But who is this Most Unmarriageable Woman?”
    He cleared his throat. “Actually, I believe I know.”
    Meredith halted, and turned toward him eagerly. “Excellent. Who?”
    “You, Miss Chilton-Grizedale. By the time Society reads tomorrow’s edition of The Times, you will be the Most Unmarriageable Woman in England.”

Five
    Philip watched all the color leach from Miss Chilton-Grizedale’s cheeks as his words hung in the air like a heavy fog. Where seconds ago her eyes had danced with excitement, they now resembled shards of aquamarine ice. Her lips curved in what he suspected she meant as a smile, but which came out more like a grimace, inexplicably tweaking his pride.
    “How amusing you are, my lord. I can hardly be considered unmarriageable, as, since I’ve no desire to ever marry, I was never considered marriageable.” Her tone was light, but sounded forced. And what was that look that had flashed in her eyes? Fear? Sadness? His curiosity about her doubled. Why would she not want to marry? Bah, probably no man would have the dictatorial piece. But the instant the thought entered his mind, he rejected it. Surely there was some man, somewhere, who wouldn’t find her autocratic ways completely off-putting. And as he was coming to learn, she wasn’t autocratic all the time.
    Had she given her heart to someone who did not return her feelings? Or did she, even now, love a man who either would not or could not marry her?
    The thought filled him with an unpleasant sensation that felt suspiciously like jealousy. “I thought most women wanted nothing more than to marry.”
    “I am not most women, Lord Greybourne.”
    No, she was not most women, a fact that increasingly intrigued him far more than it should.
    Lifting her chin, she said in a brisk tone, “Besides, a woman such as myself would never do for a man like you.”
    “A woman such as yourself? Meaning what, exactly?”
    Color crept into her pale cheeks. “I meant a woman not of the peerage. You are a viscount, the heir to an earldom. You must marry a woman from your social class.”
    He stared at her intently, wishing he could read her thoughts, for although her explanation made perfect sense, he strongly suspected that she had let something slip, had revealed something she had not meant to. A woman such as myself …
    “Yes, I suppose you are correct. But until I am free of this curse, not to mention this unfortunate bit of gossip, I cannot imagine any woman being eager to marry me.”
    “You can dispel the gossip very easily, my lord. Simply take a mistress, and be certain to be seen with her. At the opera, the theater.”
    It was, of course, an excellent suggestion. Taking a mistress, combined with a bit of well-timed lack of discretion—not difficult, given his already tarnished reputation—would put to bed any doubts regarding his ability to perform. However, the fact that she so calmly suggested it, in that dispassionate voice, coupled with the fact that he had absolutely