Chapter 6

At breakfast next morning, Kate poured out her tea, remembering her waltz with Lord Finley with great fondness. She dropped in two lumps of sugar, stirred, then sipped slowly, staring across the table at an empty chair, imagining Lord Finley seated there. He'd been an excellent partner in both their dances, although if she had to admit it, Lord Haversham was actually the better dancer. But that was the only thing in which her nemesis excelled. In all other manners and characteristics, Lord Finley had proved to be the better man.

The only problem, however, was his apparent attraction to Celinda and her outright preference for him. He'd spend much of their waltz asking about Lord Halford and Lady Celinda, veiled inquiries that had fooled Kate not at all. She'd thought love at first sight only happened in the romance novels she borrowed from the circulating library. Apparently, she'd been wrong about that. Not that she was giving up on Lord Finley quite yet, but she couldn't afford to stop looking for other suitors as well.

"Penny for your thoughts." Nathan entered the breakfast room with an uncharacteristically sunny countenance. "It's such a lovely day, don't you think?"

Kate glanced out the window at the overcast sky and shrugged. "You must have woken up in a different world than I did, brother, to make that statement true."

"Well, a little rain never hurt anyone, did it?" Her brother settled himself across from her, in the very seat she'd been dreaming of Lord Finley occupying, putting paid to that particular castle in the air. "Have you given any more thought to my suggestion of last night?" He busied himself laying his napkin in his lap, but his covert gaze was trained on her.

"Regarding what, Nathan? We spoke of several very different topics last evening." Wary now, Kate sipped her tea, steeling herself for his reply.

"My suggestion that you and Marcus would make a good match." Nathan motioned to a footman, who brought him a cup of coffee immediately.

"Why would I give that idiotic idea any more thought at all, brother?" Kate affected an air of dismissal and pointedly stuck her fork in one of the plump sausages on the plate the footman had just placed in front of her. "As I stated yesterday, I cannot fathom the idea of marrying Lord Haversham." As if to end the conversation once and for all, she cut off a chunk of the sausage link, popped it into her mouth, and chewed with gusto.

"You really should consider it, Kate." Nathan stared steadily at her. "Unless you've developed a tendre for Bertie Symmons, I'm not aware of any other gentlemen who might be interested in courting you."

Almost choking, Kate seized her tea and gulped it to dislodge the sausage that had stuck in her throat. When she could speak, she glared at her brother. "I have no desire to become affianced to either Bertie or Lord Haversham. You should know that, if you know nothing else at all about me. Bertie would bore me to tears before the banns could be read, and there are no words to describe what I feel about Lord Haversham."

"Then find some, my dear." Her brother put his cup into its saucer. "Tell me why you are so set against Marcus."

Well, she would put a stop to her brother's nonsense this moment. "Because I hate everything about the man, Nathan. I know he's your best friend and has been for years, but I have disliked him ever since you brought him home. I've made no bones about it before, and I make none now."

A smile played around Nathan's lips, and he leaned back in his chair. "Oh, surely that cannot be true, Kate. You hate everything about Haversham?"

"Yes, I do." Her brother could be stubborn as a goose when he wanted to be.

"Prove it."

Bewildered, she frowned at him. "What do you mean, prove it?"

"Make a list for me."

"I beg your pardon?" Her brother must've woken up with addled brains this morning.

"Make a list… I'll make it easy for you. Make a list of just ten things you hate about Marcus."

"Why would I do that?" Suddenly nervous, Kate pushed her breakfast around her plate, her appetite vanished.

"As a wager." Nathan's eyes flashed the challenge at her. "You list ten things you hate about my friend—with an explanation of each—and I will cease to suggest you should consider marrying him."

Now that was a wager she could get behind. Kate opened her mouth to accept then stopped, the memory of losing the wager over Calabree—and its penalty—still fresh in her mind. "And if I cannot come up with ten things I hate about him?" Fat chance of that, but best to make all the terms clear.

"Then you must accompany Lord Haversham on an outing of my choice one afternoon."

On the verge of saying, "Absolutely not," she paused to reconsider. What did she have to lose? She could recite all the things she hated about Lord Haversham like a litany. On the other hand, she had much to gain when she won, for she would not have to put up with her brother's incessant nagging about her marrying the earl. If half an hour's scribbling would put an end to that torture, she'd gladly take that wager. "Done." She picked up her fork and stabbed the sausage once more. "When would you like me to give you the list?"

"By this afternoon should be sufficient." Her brother's face was inscrutable.

Did he truly think she couldn't come up with a mere ten things she loathed about Lord Haversham? He obviously hadn't been listening to her conversation for the past seven years. His loss now. Kate drained her tea, set the cup back in its saucer, and rose. "I'll bring it to you before teatime, if that's agreeable?"

"Absolutely." Nathan stood, a pucker to his lips. "Good luck."

With a laugh, Kate strode out of the room. She wasn't going to need luck, just a good quill, a sharp knife, and a full inkpot.

****

"So you've decided to marry Kate? Is that what you're trying to tell me?" Ainsley poured tots of whisky into a pair of cut crystal tumblers and handed one to Marcus. "You are unable to pay your debts?"

Marcus gulped the amber liquid, the burn welcome in his stomach. He rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth, wishing for more. "No, I merely don't have the funds at the moment. My uncle had very bad news from abroad. One ship delayed, another foundered, and a grape crop half dead. The last is the greatest blow to my heart, although all three taken together has proven disastrous for our capital."

"Then marrying my sister will solve all your problems." Ainsley beamed at him, making Marcus cringe.

"The financial ones, surely." He shook his head and held the tumbler out again. "On a more personal level, I fear it would not serve, Ainsley. Much as I would like to call you brother, I do not think Miss Locke and I would suit." He raised a hand to stave off his friend's certain objection. "If we had some hope of an amicable regard for one another, I'd consider it. But I swear I don't know which of us would kill the other first."

To his surprise, his friend laughed. "I can imagine the two of you at each other's throats, literally." He smiled, a glint in his eye. "I can also see you in a somewhat more amicable pose." Ainsley raised his eyebrows before downing his drink. "I watched you dance the waltz last night." His eyes narrowed. "I saw you pressed against her in a very inappropriate manner."

Marcus met the steel gray eyes staring at him. Oh, hell and damnation. His attempt to teach that woman a lesson would get them leg-shackled yet. "My God, Ainsley! She stomped on my foot." Marcus pulled at his cravat, which had suddenly cut off his air supply. "I stumbled and fell against her for the briefest moment. No one else saw."

"How do you know that?" Ainsley continued to stare at him, the slightest glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

"Because there's been no hint of scandal bandied about the ton today. Not a jot, else I'd have heard, I'm sure. One's friends are always the most eager to inform you when disaster looms." If he could only convince himself of that. It was barely one o'clock.

"No, there hasn't been any talk," Ainsley agreed and relaxed into a chair. "More's the pity. I could've demanded satisfaction or had you marry Kate on the spot." He chuckled and tipped more whiskey into their glasses. "Might've worked too, if Lady Morris had seen you. She bays like a hound after a fox. Everyone would've noticed."

"You fiendish wretch." Marcus slumped in his seat, holding his glass like a lifeline. "I should run you through for giving me such a start."

"Wrong century, old chap. These days even pistols at dawn are passé. You will have to settle for a game of cards, winner take all."

"We did that last evening, if you recall." Marcus grumbled. "You want to deliver the coup de grace ?"

"I assume you're going to Mr. King?" Ainsley sighed and shook his head then tossed the contents of the glass down his throat. "I hate to see you caught in his clutches."

"I'm assured of a good return on an investment, Ainsley. It will work out." Marcus sipped slowly, his steady hands a feat of magic.

"And if you are disappointed in this investment?" His friend's gaze followed his every move. "Marcus, I meant what I said that day in Three Kings Court. King will extract his pound of flesh, make no mistake of that."

"I will be on my guard, I promise you. I have a fondness for my heart and any other stray parts he might wish to remove as payment." Breathing normally for the first time that afternoon, Marcus stretched his legs and nodded to his empty tumbler. "I'd appreciate another, if you don't mind. My heart's had a bit of a shock it's still recovering from."

"Gladly." His host poured a generous amount into his glass then paused, stopper in one hand, decanter in the other. "What's the investment you have such high hopes for? I might wish to jump aboard if it sounds lucrative enough."

Marcus raised his glass, careful to avoid his friend's eyes. "Not sure just yet."

"Not sure what the investment is?" Ainsley's words slowed with each syllable. He set his empty glass on the table with a crash. "You don't know where this money you've all but risked your life to obtain is going? What the hell are you about, Marcus?"

"I'm meeting Lord Finley tonight. My uncle assures me the man can turn the money around quick as quick and then all is Bob."

"You have no assurances whatsoever that this business will come right in the end." Ainsley put a hand on Marcus's arm. "Why don't you at least give my sister a chance? If your investment comes through, then by all means pay the debt and be done. But if it doesn't, you'll be able to recoup your losses and get a wife into the bargain." He released Marcus's arm and grinned. "Who knows but you might find you actually like Kate."

"I could almost think she put you up to this just to have the opportunity to devil me." Marcus ran his finger around the rim of the glass, producing a dull hum. He was leaving a lot to chance. At this point, he'd not even met Finley. Anything could go wrong, and in his current state of luck, most likely would. "All right," he said, gritting his teeth. "I'll woo Miss Locke as best I can on the slight possibility that my investment will founder. Though I suspect there is less possibility of that than of your sister actually accepting my suit."

Ainsley broke out into a sickening "I told you so" grin. "Just make sure she doesn't discover I'm behind this or she will refuse you out of hand. She's contrary that way."

"You might've mentioned that one little flaw before I agreed," Marcus said with a sigh.

The Season had scarcely begun, and he could predict it would be an excruciating eight weeks. If he lived to tell the tale.

"Are you going to Lady Carrolton's this evening?"

"Yes, with Letitia and Aunt Alexandra." Marcus raised an eyebrow. "I assume you ask because you are chaperoning your sister there as well and wish to let the games begin as swiftly as possible."

Ainsley laughed and shook his head. "Not quite guilty. Which means yes, I'm accompanying Kate there this evening, but I asked only because I thought I'd invite you all to dinner. Then we could make a party of the evening."

"That is kind of you, Ainsley." He should've known his friend would not only have ulterior motives. "I am trying to bring Letitia out of herself as much as I can, but it is difficult. She's always been shy and being out in Society has only made that worse. Perhaps dinner here would be good for her. It will give her a chance to be more forthcoming as she knows you."

"Excellent." His friend leaned back in his chair, a smile curling his lips.

"May I have pen and paper to write a note? I won't be going home to change until just before dinner and want to give them notice well in advance." He'd no idea if the proceedings with King would be lengthy or not. How long did it take to sign away your soul?

"There's a writing desk in the room just down the hall on the right." Ainsley stood. "I'll see you at eight then?"

"On the dot." Punctuality was one of the few things he could control in his life, therefore he made it a point never to be late for anything. When that was all you had, you made the most of it.