Page 49 of The Dangerous Lord

“What business?” Emily asked.

“My work, of course. I must be free at social occasions to gather gossip for my column, and I can’t do that if I’m busy helping Ian find a wife.”

“Ah, yes.” Sara watched Felicity with new interest. How odd that a young woman with such intelligence and sensitivity could be so eager to write scandalous material for a common newspaper. “I forgot you’re Lord X. But surely your Mr. Pilkington could do without Lord X’s column for a short time.”

“He could, but—” The woman broke off, her gaze flitting from Sara to Emily. “I-I wouldn’t want to stop writing it. I like it, and I worked hard to gain my readers. I don’t want to lose them. Besides, after all the holiday parties in the next few weeks, there will be nothing until the Season begins. I must be free to move about now.”

A lame explanation if Sara had ever heard one. Felicity clearly had some other reason for continuing her writing. But what? Judging from the woman’s apparel and rumors about her father’s inheritance, Felicity had no financial difficulties. “Will my help free you to write?”

“Oh, yes!” Felicity said earnestly.

“Very well, then I shall help you. Gideon and I planned to spend Christmas in town this year anyway. We’ll take you home tomorrow, then accompany you to those social events Ian expects you to attend.” She watched Felicity closely. “I’m sure I can find him a wife without you if need be.”

“Yes, of course you could,” Felicity said in an oddly deflated tone.

Her look of desolation told Sara all she needed to know about Felicity’s feelings. Whether Ian was in love or not, Felicity was halfway to being there already.

“But will Ian mind if it’s you and not me who helps him?” Felicity asked. “He seemed to think he needed my help.”

Sara caught Emily’s eye, and a look of understanding passed between them. Not surprisingly, Emily had guessed Ian’s purpose as well. Their husbands had trained them well to recognize the machinations of devious men.

“I’m sure Ian would welcome anyone’s help,” Emily told Felicity cheerily, her mischievous expression showing she thought no such thing.

“I’ll speak to him this evening on the matter,” Sara added. “No doubt he’ll be delighted at my involvement.”

The devil he would. If he was, it meant that Ian possessed as little real interest in Felicity as he’d had in Lady Sophie and the Hastings girl. In such a case, it would be best for poor Felicity to discover that now.

But Sara doubted Ian wanted anyone’s interference in this matter. Sara had never seen the man so agitated by a woman, so reckless in his pursuit. God knows he’d never cornered Lady Sophie in her bedchamber.

If Sara’s instincts proved as correct as they usually did, he wouldn’t like what she told him tonight. Not one little bit.

Barely controlling his anger, Ian glared at Sara from his stance beside the fireplace in the card room. “What the hell do you mean—you plan to help me find a wife? I don’t want your help!”

“But Miss Taylor said you were adamant about needing hers.” Sara swept about the room, picking up a newspaper here, straightening a cushion there. “I don’t see why my help would be any less welcome.”

“Because I bloody well don’t want to marry you, that’s why!”

She cocked her head to stare thoughtfully at him. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

Her voice was entirely too smug. He searched her face with narrowed eyes. “Yes, you do. You’re too intelligent for your own good. And you know quite well that the best way for me to secure Felicity’s affections is to make her realize how badly she wants to marry me.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, it is, my meddling friend. She wants to marry me, and I’ll force her to admit it if I have to dance attendance on half of London’s eligible women in front of her!”

A sudden urge to smash one of Sara’s china figurines against the wall possessed him. The last thing he wanted was Sara mucking things up, especially if it put more distance between him and Felicity. He lowered his voice, striving for control. “I appreciate your attempt to help, but I have this well in hand. I’ve already set my sights on the wife I want, and I don’t need you destroying all my plans.”

“Good heavens, Ian, if she doesn’t want to marry you, why waste your time over it? Surely you don’t wish to have a wife who cares nothing for you.”

“She does care for me, no matter what she said. And she’d make me the perfect wife. She’s merely being stubborn about—” He broke off, suddenly conscious of Sara’s intent interest.

“About what?”

He narrowed his eyes on Sara. “How much did she tell you of our discussion?”

Sara looked as if she debated something, then shrugged. “Merely that she refused to marry you.”

“Did she say why?”