What to Do with a Duke by Sally Mackenzie Page B

a spectacle today.”
    Alex laughed. “Oh, God, now that I would like to see, you two chasing each other over the lawn.”
    Nate glared at him and then looked back at Marcus. “I don’t mind bearing you company.”
    â€œThank you, but I really don’t need any help.” He smiled to soften his words.
    Alex slapped Nate on the back. “Leave the man to his task. We’ll spend the time planning our matchmaking campaign to end this silly curse once and for all.”
    Damnation. He did not want Alex busying himself in his affairs, and he definitely didn’t like the fact it was Miss Hutting’s face—and other attributes—that sprang to mind at his words.
    Nate’s expression twisted into one of disgust. “Good God, I am not discussing such a vile subject.”
    â€œOh, after a couple pints, you’ll be inspired,” Alex said.
    He was joking, of course. That was it. Alex loved a good jest. The best thing to do would be to play along. Then Alex would lose interest—it was no fun teasing a man who didn’t react.
    â€œI rely on you to keep Alex from matching me with a hideous harridan, Nate.”
    Nate snorted and then shook his head. “All this jackanapes will be matching is himself to a glass of ale. Don’t be long, Marcus, or we’ll have to drag Alex’s drunken body back to the castle.”
    â€œHey now, you know I can hold my liquor better than you.”
    â€œWell, for God’s sake, don’t try to prove it here,” Nate said as he and Alex moved off. “Loves Bridge has enough to gabble about without adding an inebriated earl to the mix.”
    â€œAn inebriated marquess, more like!”
    Marcus watched them leave and then turned toward the vicarage. He should speak to the vicar before he posted anything around the church. With luck, Miss Hutting would be away from home.
    He crossed the churchyard, pausing to touch Isabelle Dorring’s gravestone.
    Well, technically just “stone” since the woman wasn’t buried there—or anywhere.
    It’s the bloody curse that’s making me want Miss Hutting.
    He gripped the stone hard. I won’t let Isabelle control me. I’ll avoid the woman from now on. How hard can that be? I’m only here three more days.
    He looked up—and his stomach sank. Miss Hutting was just closing the vicarage door behind her.
    Perhaps she hasn’t seen me. I’ll hide behind Isabelle’s non-headstone—
    No, that would be cowardly—and ridiculous. In any event, it was too late. Miss Hutting had seen him.
    Perhaps she would go on about her business.
    Of course she wouldn’t. She changed direction to stride purposely toward him. For just an instant, he was tempted to turn tail and run, but he quashed the cowardly impulse and held his ground.
    â€œGood morning, Your Grace.”
    â€œGood morning, Miss Hutting.”
    She eyed the papers in his hand. “I assume those are the Spinster House notices?”
    What else could they be? “Yes.” He started to edge past her. “I was just coming to speak to your father about putting one up in the church, so if you’ll excuse me?”
    â€œPapa’s away from home.” She grinned, a wide smile that crinkled her eyes and showed her teeth.
    London ladies never grinned. They rarely smiled, and when they did, they only bent their firmly closed lips slightly.
    â€œThat’s unfortunate.” He would have to do the church last. “When do you expect him back?”
    â€œOh, not for a while, but I can help you. I know exactly where the notice should go.”
    â€œI really can’t impose. You were on your way somewhere, weren’t you?” I cannot spend time alone with her.
    But he desperately wanted to do exactly that.
    â€œOnly to Cupid’s Inn. I’m meeting Jane and our friend Anne Davenport and some of the other ladies to discuss the village fair.