The Pursuit Of Marriage by Victoria Alexander

head again without encouragement from the lady in question.” Marcus studied him over the rim of his glass. “Has there been such encouragement?”
    “No.” Reggie thought for a moment. The mere fact that the woman gazed up at him with the oddest hint of anticipation in her eye and seemed to hold her breath when he so much as took her arm could not really be considered encouragement. “Not that I can see, at any rate. But she has agreed to be friends.”
    “Friends?” Marcus’s brow furrowed. “I take it this is a good sign?”
    Reggie chuckled. “I don’t know, but it should be very interesting to find out.”
    Marcus narrowed his eyes. “What are your intentions, Reggie?”
    “I don’t know that either.”
    “You’re not—”
    “No, no, don’t be absurd.” Reggie waved off his friend’s concern. “At the moment, my only intention is to provide Miss Effington with whatever assistance she needs in the refurbishment of my house. I shall be both polite and pleasant and behave toward her much as I would any woman of my acquaintance with whom I am friendly. Much as I behave toward your wife, I should think.”
    “Oh, that should impress her,” Marcus said wryly. “Gwen views you very much as the brother she never had.”
    “Does she?” A pleasant sense of delight washed through Reggie. He’d liked the new Lady Pennington, Gwen, since the moment he’d first met her, and to know she returned his friendly affection was gratifying. “I must say I’m really quite flattered and pleased.”
    “I wouldn’t be if I were you. Like any good sister when faced with an unwed brother, I suspect she will soon turn her attention to matchmaking.”
    “Why would you suspect that?”
    Marcus shrugged. “Comments she makes that have become more frequent lately. About how happy we are and how alone you appear to be.”
    “Good God. First my mother, now your wife.” Reggie drew a deep swallow of the brandy for fortification against the machinations of the women of his world. All of whom, at the moment, seemed to have but one goal in mind.
    “What about your mother?” Concern sounded in Marcus’s voice. “She hasn’t taken a turn for the worse, has she?”
    “No, but I certainly wouldn’t put it past her.” Reggie shook his head. “I’m not certain, mind you, but I suspect this whole business of I’m-dying-refurbish-my-house-with-the-help-of-Miss-Effington is for the sole purpose of throwing the eligible Miss Effington and myself together.”
    “Or your mother could really be dying.” Marcus sipped his brandy thoughtfully.
    “I tell you, Marcus, every instinct I have tells me this is a plot. My mother and your mother are close friends. Your mother maneuvered the circumstances of your marriage, and quite successfully, I might add. With you as a sterling example, why on earth would you think my mother wouldn’t do exactly the same thing?”
    “Point taken. Still.” Marcus raised his glass in a salute. “She could be dying.”
    Reggie scoffed. “She’s never been ill a day in her life. And one rarely goes from perfect health on a Tuesday to one’s deathbed on Wednesday without a physician able to find any cause whatsoever. I would wager a great deal she’ll recover immediately upon my betrothal.”
    “To Miss Effington?”
    “To anyone. I’m not entirely sure how she hit upon the idea of Miss Effington rather than some other young woman, but Miss Effington did mention her own mother commenting on my mother’s health.”
    “Sounds very much like a conspiracy to me.”
    “Doesn’t it, though,” Reggie said darkly. “As much as I would like to marry, I do not intend to allow my mother to select my bride for me.”
    Marcus cleared his throat.
    “It doesn’t always work out as well as it did for you.” Reggie raised his glass to his friend. “You, old man, are the lucky exception.”
    Marcus laughed. “I am indeed lucky.” He studied his friend for a moment. “So, are you determined then