Just business.
Picking up his pen to reply, he couldn’t help but wonder on it. Why did she insist on treating him with such coolness? If she liked him on paper, why couldn’t she show at least some regard for him in person? All vanity aside, he was not unaware of how most females reacted to him. Surely she didn’t find him objectionable to look at, so it must be something else.
He toyed with the bottle of ink, recalling a number of her written musings. Though he hadn’t really given it much thought, it seemed that Augusta was wont to dwell on how she didn’t fit into Society, how estranged she was from the superficial gaiety and charm. And more than once in his presence, she had let slip a comment about her lack of physical endowments.
Was that really how she saw herself—an unattractive, awkward female with no redeeming qualities?
An exasperated sigh slipped from his lips. It couldn’t be. She was too intelligent not to realize that her unique intellect, coupled with her intriguing looks, made her … irresistible.
So there had to be another more plausible reason, but damned if he could fathom what it was. Giving up for the moment, he scrawled off a brief note and rang for a footman.
Despite the fact that she persisted in calling him odious and insufferable, he couldn’t ignore the temptation to see her again …
If she wanted information, she would have to consent to a drive through the park.
Augusta droppedthe paper into her lap, a scowl creasing her face.Drat the man!Why couldn’t he just write what he had to say? Or did he enjoy teasing the color to her face? Even now she could feel a faint heat prickling her flesh on thinking of him. His physical presence ignited an even more visceral response.
But duty called, she reminded herself. She needed to know what he had learned and so she would have to spend time in his company, no matter how difficult it was on her peace of mind.
Taking up her pen, Augusta dashed off a reply with enough force on the nib to send a fine spray of droplets spattering across the paper.
Promptly at the appointed hour, a knock on the door heralded the earl’s arrival. He was nothing if not punctual, she thought grimly as she tied the ribbons of her bonnet snugly under her chin. Then, like a knight settling his helm in place forbattle, she gave it one last tug and set off, ready to begin their jousting.
Marcus seemed unperturbed by her deliberate silence. In fact, he appeared to be whistling under his breath as the phaeton turned into the park. Having expected a clash of verbal swords rather than this nonchalant display of good humor, she found herself rattled, and couldn’t help abandoning her own pose of disinterested detachment.
“Well?”
He slanted a sideways look at her. “A fine afternoon for a drive, is it not, Gus?”
“The weather has been uncommonly nice for this time of year, the price of kid gloves has become exorbitant, the neckline of gown Lady Fitzwilliam wore last week was shocking, and the latest offering at Haymarket Theatre is said to be quite entertaining,” she replied in a rush. “There, we have dispensed with all the rest of the platitudes, so now can we get down to business?”
Marcus chuckled. “You forgot one thing.” His eyes ran over the navy merino carriage dress and snug little jacket frogged in military fashion that Marianne had chosen for her. “You are looking very well, Gus.”
She ducked her head, hoping to hide her blush. Lud, it was difficult enough sitting close beside him and pretending to be unmoved without having to listen to such pleasant banter. Teeth on edge, she forced a cool reply. “I believe you have something of greater importance to tell me, sir.”
“Marcus,” he corrected. “I thought we had come to an agreement on that.”
“Well, have you?”
“Have I what?”
“Something to tell me!” she said with some impatience.
His brow rose slightly.
“Marcus,” she added in a near whisper.
He lips twitched. “As a matter of fact, I have.” The horses slowed to a sedate trot. “Weston and Stutz have never seen the fabric. Nor have any of the other tailors on Bond Street or Jermyn Street.”
“Oh, that’s helpful,” she remarked rather snidely.
He shot her an aggrieved look before continuing. “I didn’t say that was all, did I? There are other tailors, of course, in less fashionable locations that are not as well-known, but more willing to offer a gentleman generous terms in return for his patronage.” He paused to grimace. “You have no idea how many ghastly waistcoats and ridiculous chitterlings I have been forced to view.”
“A sore trial, I’m sure.”
“Just so. Now, neither Gibbons nor Thurgood nor Haskins had the silk. Then I remembered Joshua Hallinsworth near Regent Park …”
She began to grind her teeth.
