the limp Helene dangling gracefully in his arms, Mrs. Anselm followed close behind on his heels, barking orders to Poole to have all their luggage sent upstairs as she was sure her poor baby would not be able to travel any more that day.
“Blister me,” Sir Alexander commented from his position at the bottom of the stairwell, “Matilda would have made a great general. Now she’s taken possession, it will be nigh impossible to nudge her out again.”
“You think it’s all a hum too, Grandfather?” Alexandra asked.
“Sink me, of course it is,” he shot back testily, “and sure as check Linton knows it too. I cannot understand why he allowed it unless he’s running some rig of his own.”
Alexandra looked up toward the now empty landing, a thoughtful frown puckering her brow. “Do you think he means to make me jealous? If so, the man’s more of a fool than I thought him to be. If you ask me, I think he doesn’t want either one of us and only hopes we will kill each other off fighting over him and leave him in peace. Not that I give a tinker’s curse if he does marry the chit—although he’s much too good for that brainless widget—but he knows you’ll try to hold him to your bargain.”
“I by damn will! Let the Anselm woman take the young sprout—it’s the Earl for you, my girl,” Sir Alexander blustered, blithely settling the fate of both the Mannering men.
“Jeremy?” Alexandra questioned, taken aback. “But he’s just a child. That odious Anselm woman would serve him up for dinner. Besides, if ever I saw a person out for the main chance, it is Mrs. Anselm. No,” she shook her head thoughtfully, “it’s Linton himself she’s after. Something must have happened to make her rethink the engagement.”
Sir Alexander gave a disdainful snort. “Something happened all right. The daughter ran out of beaux and the mother ran out of funds.” He laughed aloud. “What she didn’t count on was Nicholas’s finding himself another bride.”
“Who wants no part of him,” Alexandra added mendaciously. “Don’t forget that , Grandfather.”
“Blast it, gel, how can I forget it, with you blabbering it about constantly for all to hear? Matilda saw her chance and took it, no thanks to you. Now that she’s got the girl entrenched upstairs, it will take an earthquake to shift her. And stop grinning like the village idiot. Anyone would think whistling Earls down the wind was no more than a lark to you.”
From his position at the head of the stairs, Nicholas could not help overhearing the conversation taking place below him. The plan that had begun to glimmer in his brain just before Helene had enacted her dramatic swoon was now rapidly taking shape. He would pretend to play along with Mrs. Anselm’s little game—keeping Helene on the scene—and try to use the girl’s presence to his own advantage. Alix may not think she wants to marry me, he told himself, but her reaction to my kiss was not one of repugnance—not by a long chalk.
No, Alix wasn’t as adverse to him as she pretended to be, he was sure. Perhaps a gentle nudge in the right direction was all that she needed.
Not that he was in love with her, he clarified mentally. He had tried that emotion once and found it fleeting, fickle, and decidedly unreliable. After all, he had for a time truly believed he was in love with Helene—an outstanding example of why men should choose their mates with their heads rather than their hearts if ever there was one.
Alexandra suited him. She was beautiful, intelligent, and spirited—not to mention heir to all Sir Alexander’s considerable worldly goods. It was true the Saxon and Mannering holdings did not, as the saying went, “march together,” but they were close enough as to make no difference and went a long way toward sweetening the pot—although Nicholas wasn’t by nature a mercenary man.
He might not have planned to marry so soon after his lucky escape from Helene’s clutches, but now
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