What to Do with a Duke by Sally Mackenzie

taught you how to go on just as you’ll teach your own sons.”
    Nate shifted on the settee. “Marcus, I know—”
    â€œNo, you don’t, Nate. Neither of you know what my life is like.” Even knowing his history—and Nate knew it better than anyone—they couldn’t know what it felt like to live with the burden of the curse every single bloody day. “I never met my father. I’ll never meet my son—if I ever have a son, that is.”
    He looked at the fire and watched the ashes rise with the heat.
    The kindest thing I could do is to never marry. Then the curse will finally die.
    He’d been certain at twenty he’d not wed. Even last year, he’d been determined to remain single. What did he care if the title reverted to the Crown? It would be a blessing if he were the last Cursed Duke.
    But ever since his damn thirtieth birthday, the loneliness and the need had eaten away at his resolve, even though he knew any woman he married would, in the final tally, only make him lonelier. Sharing his life with someone like Miss Rathbone would cause his soul to shrivel and die long before the curse took his body. But his heart—or a far less noble organ—was no longer listening to his brain.
    Perhaps I should take Isabelle’s way out and drown myself.
    He was a strong swimmer, but Loves Water was large and deep and cold—
    No. Not to judge Isabelle Dorring’s actions—he’d be the last man to do that—but he’d thought Miss Hutting correct this afternoon. Choosing suicide felt selfish and rather cowardly.
    Nate finally found his voice. “How did things go in the village? Are we off to the Lake District in the morning?”
    â€œNo.” Marcus rubbed the spot between his eyebrows. He could feel a headache coming on. “It appears I have to advertise the Spinster House opening, which means I have to stay here for a while. You’ll have to go on without me.”
    Oh, hell. Nate was frowning at him, worry back in his eyes. “Then we’ll stay, too. What’s a few days’ delay, right, Alex?”
    â€œRight. The lakes will still be there.” Alex grinned. “And if we stay here, we can help Marcus end this curse.”
    Marcus’s stomach dropped. “How are you going to do that?”
    â€œBy finding you a nice village girl to fall in love with, of course.”
    God—or Isabelle Dorring—help him. Confirmed spinster Miss Hutting’s face popped into his thoughts.

Chapter Six
    April 25, 1617—Some of the duke’s friends came down from London yesterday. I saw them with him walking and laughing on the village green. Such delightful gentlemen. They say you can tell a lot about a man from the friends he keeps.
    â€”from Isabelle Dorring’s diary
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    Marcus, accompanied by Nate and Alex, stepped out of Wilkinson’s office with the notices Wilkinson—no, more likely Miss Wilkinson—had written.
    â€œMiss Wilkinson is quite attractive,” Alex said. “If the females of Loves Bridge are anything like her, I’m sure we can find one for you to fall in love with, Marcus.”
    â€œI do not need you to play matchmaker, Alex.” If the notion weren’t so ludicrous, it would be revolting. “And Miss Wilkinson is one of the two women vying to be the next Spinster House spinster.”
    â€œIs she?” Alex laughed and glanced back at the building. They all saw the curtain on the window near Miss Wilkinson’s desk twitch back into place. “I’m not so certain she’s committed to the single life.” He adjusted the angle of his beaver hat. “Perhaps I could make your job simpler and remove her from the competition.”
    â€œNot in three days.”
    â€œWhat? You don’t think I can enthrall the lady so quickly?” Alex said as they started down the lane.
    â€œI know you won’t try.” Alex could be