Page 5 of Marrying a Marquess (Widows of Mayfair #3)

P riscilla’s heart stopped. Four years ago, when she’d just turned eighteen, she would have given anything to hear Nick say those words.

She would have melted into a puddle at his feet.

But he had done everything to avoid the betrothal their families wanted.

During those years, she’d hidden her hurt and broken heart from him and her parents.

She had gotten good at pretending. And she would need to keep on pretending.

“You know you don’t mean that. You have made it abundantly clear in the past that you never wanted to marry me. So stand up straight, hold your head high, and find a wife. There must be someone willing to marry you.”

His groan hit her ears, and she refused to feel sorry for him.

She would admit she’d felt puppy love for him as a child, which had turned into a young lady’s blossoming love when she was sixteen.

But when she married Jasper at twenty-one, she had buried that love for Nick and threw away the key.

She could not revisit that locked-away heart.

He would only break it again. Even if he married her, she didn’t believe he could be faithful, and that in itself would utterly destroy her.

It was better never to have than to have and lose.

“You know many people. Approach someone with a marriage-aged daughter and offer for her. Instead of collecting a dowry, pay the father. I’ve heard it’s done.

There must be someone in the ton with a daughter desperate for funds.

Ask your friends for help. Wouldn’t a duke know everything and everyone’s personal business? ”

His chuckle surprised her. “I highly doubt Blackstone knows all. Perhaps there is a man in his employ who has a daughter who would like to marry me for my title. He does employ past naval officers to captain his ships. Splendid idea. I’ll look into it.”

“Yes. Splendid idea.” She tried to make her voice sound excited but knew she failed. “Please keep me informed.”

“I will,” he said. “Now.” He bowed. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a dance to collect from my nemesis.”

Priscilla’s eyes followed Nick until he was swallowed up by the crush of bodies inside the large ballroom. It took several minutes before her heart returned to normal, but her breathing had yet to. He asked her to marry him just now. Why didn’t she say yes?

“Lady Priscilla,” said Baron Latham as he approached her and bowed. “What a pleasant surprise to find you in attendance tonight.”

She curtsied. “Latham. It is nice to see you.” The baron was the older brother to Mr. James Caldwell, who owned Mayfair Imports and Exports with Blackstone and Langford.

The baron was known for overindulging in spirits, gambling, and courtesans.

However, rumor had it that he had mended his ways.

Priscilla wasn’t foolish enough to think he sought out her company because he was interested in her.

He certainly hadn’t been interested in her when she first came out.

If he had any interest now, it was in her dowry—intact because her father never paid it to Jasper.

Not that Jasper had cared or had time to care.

She also received a small pension from the government for Jasper’s ultimate sacrifice.

“I was wondering if I could call on you tomorrow?” Latham said, blushing.

Priscilla could not believe her eyes. The baron blushed.

The poor man had probably never paid homage to a lady of good breeding, and she felt sorry for him.

“That would be lovely.” She curtsied. “I look forward to your visit on the morrow.” It was a lie, but it would appease her mother.

He bowed. “Until tomorrow.”

They walked through the double doors into the ballroom together, but Latham then headed to the exit.

She inhaled the scent of warm, sweaty bodies, and she covered up a sneeze.

Her eyes strayed to the ballroom floor as the first strings of a waltz began to play.

It only took her a moment to find Nick escorting a beautiful, dark-haired lady, and Priscilla ignored the tumbling of her heart.

*

Before some other man could claim the next dance from Viscountess Norton, Nick made his way across the room, bowed before her, and held out his hand. “I believe this dance belongs to me.” He couldn’t help the devious smile that curled his lips as he heard the opening notes of a waltz.

“Why yes,” she curtsied. “I believe it does.”

Nick led her onto the ballroom floor, placed his hands in the correct positions, and danced her around the room.

“I have been looking for you for several years now. Where have you been?” He tightened his grip on her just in case she thought to flee.

But he knew she recognized him—her feet paused during the dance briefly before she realized she was giving herself away by her reaction.

Her body beneath his hands tensed, and her smile faltered.

And still, she was utterly beautiful. No wonder she had been so good at deceiving him into following her that night.

“I don’t know what you mean, Hollingsworth. We have never met until this evening.”

“Come now, Esmeralda, don’t play coy with me. I will never forget your sultry voice or your blue eyes. Please tell me how you came to be married to Norton. Surely you did not drug him also?”

“Please loosen your hold. ”

It was then that Nick realized he had gripped her waist and hand tightly, and he relaxed his hold. “Don’t lie to me. I want the truth, and I want it now.”

“There is not enough time. Meet me in the library when the dance is over.”

Nick started to laugh, then stopped as he attracted unwanted attention from the other dancers. “I will not fall for one of your nefarious schemes again. Once was more than enough to ruin my chances at marriage.”

She huffed. “Fine. It was me. I was desperate after my father died and my protector let me go. I met two men who offered me easy work, and I took it.”

He studied her eyes, looking for lies.

“I only did it a few times before I met Norton. And to answer your question, no, I didn’t drug him. However, he discovered what I was doing and offered to marry me. What can I say? He was lonely and wanted someone to keep him company in his advanced years, and I needed a husband and money.”

“You need to start a new rumor about how you saw someone pour something into my drink at the masquerade ball. Prove that I was drugged.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “Why would I do that?”

He leaned close to her ear and whispered. “Because if you do not, I will expose you for who and what you are. Even marrying a viscount will not keep you from being ostracized from Society once they know of your criminal past.”

The music ended. Emma curtsied and hurried away from him to her husband. Nick took a deep breath, hoping his future would improve now that he had finally found the woman who called herself Esmeralda.

*

“He recognized me,” Emma whispered to her husband when she arrived at his side after waltzing with Hollingsworth.

“There is no need to fret, my dear.” Norton patted her hand. “You are my wife now. I will protect you from Hollingsworth. Besides, he is not the sort of gentleman to cause trouble. He is hoping to discredit the rumors, not add to them. Rest assured, all will be well.”

*

The following morning, Nick had a bouquet of hothouse roses delivered to Priscilla.

He planned to pay a morning call—he had a favor to ask.

An idea had hit him last night as he’d paced around his chambers in the dark, too full of energy to sleep.

Since she refused to even consider marrying him, perhaps she would agree to a fake courtship.

Between that and the viscountess coming to his rescue about the old rumors, he hoped that his chances of finding a wife would increase.

It was all he could hope for at this moment.

*

Priscilla sat in the drawing room with her mother, awaiting a visit from Baron Latham. That morning, he’d sent her a lovely bouquet of wildflowers. Nick had also sent her roses, and she couldn’t wait to discover why. Was she to expect him to visit? She blew into her steaming cup of tea.

A footman entered the room and announced, “Baron Latham.”

Once pleasantries were finished, Priscilla said, “Please have a seat, Latham.” She gestured to a chair facing the settee she and her mother occupied.

“Thank you,” he said as he gripped his hat in his hands. “Have you ventured outside today? It is quite warm and sunny.”

A conversation about the weather. How original.

She fought not to roll her eyes. She had forgotten how she disliked drawing room chatter, the few times she’d had callers to chatter with.

“Yes, I rode in the park on my mare, Princess, this morning. It was restorative after the late night at the Langfords’ ball. ”

His fingers tugged on his cravat. Perhaps his valet had tied it too tight. She felt for the man. Priscilla hated anything around her neck, tight or not. Fortunately for her, today’s fashion styles favored low necklines, and she could breathe easy most days.

“May I pour you tea, Latham?”

“Yes, please.”

The same footman entered. “The Marquess of Hollingsworth.”