What to Do with a Duke by Sally Mackenzie Page A

annoying and a bit careless, but he’d never toy with a woman’s affections.
    â€œI don’t know. This place is called Loves Bridge. Once we find you your love, I might look for myself.”
    â€œFeel free to do so, but skip the part about looking for me.” He knew Alex was kidding. The man had been jilted almost at the altar only months earlier.
    â€œI thought you’d sworn off marriage,” Nate said.
    Alex shrugged. “If I can find a woman to break Marcus’s curse, perhaps I can find one to mend my broken heart.” He grinned. “And what about you, Nate? Shall I find you a wife as well while I’m rummaging around in Loves Bridge’s collection of maidens? You’re looking a little lonely.”
    â€œI am not, you lobcock.”
    They reached the path to the churchyard. It was too narrow to walk three abreast, so Marcus let Nate and Alex go ahead.
    The moment he stepped in among the trees, the woods’ quiet enveloped him, causing the tight, tense feeling in his head and neck to relax. Instead of the din of London—tradesmen hawking their wares and coach wheels rattling over cobblestones—he heard birds calling and small animals rustling through the underbrush. He took a deep breath. The air was different, too, scented with pine and soil instead of smoke and filth.
    Nate and Alex must feel the special quality of the place as well. They’d dropped their voices as though they’d entered a church. It was—
    Marcus tripped over a tree root, but caught his balance before Nate or Alex noticed and teased him about it. It was not surprising Miss Hutting had stumbled here yesterday. The ground was very uneven. It had been a bit of luck he’d been able to catch her. He’d reacted on instinct and had almost gone tumbling with her.
    He swallowed.
    Best not to think about that. It wouldn’t have been pleasant. Better to wait for a soft bed—
    No! What was the matter with him? There would be no soft bed for Cat—for Miss Hutting —and him.
    He kicked a stone and watched it bounce up the path ahead of him. It almost hit Nate’s boot before veering off into the underbrush.
    She had felt so good in his arms. She was precisely the right size—not too tall or too short or too thin or too plump. Perfect.
    He clenched his hands into fists. She was not perfect. She was not anything to him except possibly the next Spinster House spinster.
    He lengthened his stride to catch up to Nate and Alex as they went through the churchyard gate.
    â€œHere, Marcus,” Alex said. “Give us each some notices to post. It will get the job done faster.”
    It would, but he was not about to risk Isabelle Dorring’s wrath. Her instructions had been quite specific. The duke was to post the notices, and so he would do so. Twenty years ago, his uncle had insisted Marcus tack each paper up, even though he was only a boy of ten. He could not think the rules had changed now that he was a man of thirty.
    But he couldn’t say that. Nate would understand, but Alex already thought he had one foot in Bedlam.
    â€œThank you, but I’d rather do it myself. There are only a few, and the places aren’t far apart. Why don’t you go off to Cupid’s Inn and have a pint? I’ll join you there when I’m done.”
    He smiled when what he wanted to do was give them each an encouraging shove toward the inn. “I won’t be long.”
    â€œAll right.” Alex grinned. “I’ll never say no to a pint.”
    Nate was harder to get rid of. He gave Marcus a long look. “Are you certain you don’t want some help? I was with you last time.”
    â€œYes, but we were children then, and you were only there because your father was my guardian.” His smile this time came more naturally. “If you’ll remember, we were mostly playing tag on the green. I don’t think we need to treat the villagers to such