When the Marquess Met His Match by Laura Lee Guhrke - An American Heiress in London 01 - When the Marquess Met His Match

shuddered visibly. “Perish the thought.”
    The waltz began, and though it occurred to Belinda how gratifying it would be to tread on his feet in her high-heeled slippers, she resisted the temptation. Instead, she racked her brain for ideas, but she was forced to admit there was really only one option. She would have to retract her refusal and help him find a wife. If she did, some other girl’s heart, fortune, and virtue might be at risk, but she’d have to worry about that later. Right now, Rosalie was her most important consideration. “All right,” she said. “You win.”
    “I win?” he echoed. “What does that mean, exactly?”
    “I mean the war is over. I . . .” She paused, hating that she had to give in. “I surrender.”
    “Do you, now?” His gaze roamed over her face. “And in this surrender, what shall you yield to me?”
    Lord, she thought, this man could make anything sound naughty. At that thought, an inexplicable heat curled in her belly, but she dampened it at once and spoke again. “If you leave Rosalie alone, and if you swear you won’t risk placing her or any other innocent girl in a compromising situation, I will use my influence to help you find someone else.”
    “I see.” He tilted his head as if considering it, but if she’d hoped steering him away from her friend would be as easy as that, she was mistaken. “I don’t see why I need your help at all, now that I’ve met Miss Harlow.”
    “It’s because of me, isn’t it?” She stared at him, dismayed. “You’re taking revenge on me because I went to that newspaper.”
    His fingers tightened at her waist, pulling her an inch closer as they danced. “I have my flaws, Lady Featherstone, but exacting vengeance upon women is not one of them.”
    “Then why her?”
    “Why not her?” he countered. “She’s quite pretty, amiable—a delightful girl all around.”
    “And rich.”
    “Well, yes,” he said, sounding nauseatingly agreeable. “We’ve already established I can’t afford to marry a poor girl.”
    “If you want to know why Rosalie would not be the right wife for you, I can give you several reasons. The difference in your ages, for one. She is only eighteen. You’re far too old for her. She’s an innocent, just out of finishing school, while you are world-weary and cynical. You should soon grow tired of her, and if you were not allowing your enmity for me to cloud your judgment, you would already have come to that conclusion yourself.”
    “Would I? Being such a jaded—and apparently ancient—fellow, I might find Miss Harlow’s youth and innocence to be charming, refreshing qualities. Why, she might even make me feel young and spry again.”
    Belinda made a scoffing sound at that bit of nonsense. “You know as well as I do that she’s too young for you. And her youth, her background, and her temperament make her ill prepared to be a duchess.”
    “Ah, but she won’t be a duchess yet. Plenty of time for her to learn how it’s done while she’s merely a marchioness.”
    “Is there plenty of time? Your father could die tomorrow.”
    “A delightful prospect, I grant you, but—alas—one unlikely to happen. I wouldn’t be that lucky.”
    “Will you please stop making jokes?”
    “What makes you think I was joking?” His voice was still lighthearted and jovial, yet even as he spoke, she watched something flicker in those warm, tawny eyes, something dangerous that reminded her of the lion about to spring, and she realized he wasn’t joking at all.
    Belinda wondered what could have caused the enmity that existed between him and Landsdowne even as she reminded herself that it was none of her affair. “The fact that you regard your father’s death as a fortunate circumstance is something I do not wish to explore. Let’s return to the point at issue, which is that Rosalie is not for you.”
    The dangerous glimmer vanished from his eyes, like a candle snuffed out, but she knew she had not imagined it.