Page 5 of His Bluestocking Bride

He released a long, slow breath to calm himself and left the carriage. The gloomy gray of the sky did little to brighten his mood. But when he saw Collin upon the steps of his home, and Marianne tucked into his side, he could not help but smile.

“Marcus, welcome.” Collin did not bound down the steps to greet him as he did at the start of their boyhood summer visits. He waited, standing straight and tall, his arm around his wife. “Come in, before the sky bursts open and soaks us all.”

Marcus took the steps quickly and clasped his friend’s hand warmly. “Collin, it’s good of you to have me.” His friend, taller than he by a hand, looked unchanged since their last meeting. He still had straight, black hair worn longer than considered fashionable, and his clothes were more suitable to riding about the countryside than sitting at home and hearth.

Collin’s expression twisted into mock-disgust. “I? Invite you? Never did such a thing. Marianne insisted you come, otherwise I would not have had you here. My wife seems oddly fond of you. Can’t say that I see why.”

Marianne laughed and stepped forward with her hand raised for Marcus to bow over it. “Don’t listen to him, Marcus. We are both very glad you’ve come.” Her fair coloring was a contrast to his friend’s looks in the most complimentary of ways.

“Especially after we received your letter,” Collin added, expression more serious. “Come in and clean up. We have refreshment for you, when you are ready.”

Marcus thanked them both and went to his room without further delay. After his valet, Cray, saw to it that his person and clothing were made respectable, he took himself off to the parlor where his hosts waited with a tea tray and sandwiches.

After all three had partaken of the light repast, Collin settled back on the couch, arm around his wife, and dove into the thing most plaguing Marcus’s mind. “So, you must find a wife.”

Marcus finished the last of his tea and returned the cup to the table at his side. “According to my mother, I must find a wife or else.”

A frown appeared on Marianne’s face, her bright eyes studying him intently. “Does this distress you, Marcus?”

Of course it did, but he was trying to keep that from showing. He offered her a confident grin. “Not entirely. A man usually gets to determine when and how he takes a bride, but I have been left with the ability to choose whom. The other factors are predetermined. I must marry before my thirtieth birthday. The sooner the better, actually. How I do it seems to matter little as long as it is quickly.”

“You poor dear.” Marianne looked up at her husband. “Although the problem presented is straightforward enough.”

“What do you intend to do?” Collin asked, studying Marcus curiously. “There are any number of ladies who would be willing to be your bride. Many a young miss in London has flirted with you and with the notion of taking you to the altar. You make the rounds of every ballroom every season.”

Marcus’s smile turned bitter at that and he looked down. “Flirting is all they do, Collin. I am a second son, with a small allowance, and an estate that no one knows about except that it is of no great consequence. My future bride will not host grand balls as my brother’s might, nor will she maneuver in the highest order of society. The matchmaking matrons know this, if their daughters do not, and set their caps at loftier heads than mine.”

“Surely not,” Marianne protested while Collin chuckled. “You are dreadfully handsome and amusing. I think a girl would fall in love with you quite easily.”

“I hardly want a girl who must settle for me.” Marcus shook his head and refocused his attention on the lady of the house, ignoring her comment on love. He did not want love. “In fact, I don’t want a girl at all. My estate is not large and will require careful management if I am to improve it. I would prefer to have a woman of sense running my household, not a child whose only training has been to ensnare a husband. My birthday is in six months. The London season begins in one month.”

“What has that to do with anything?” Collin asked, his brows pinching together in confusion.

“I have five months to find a woman on the marriage mart, court her, and arrange a marriage. In the whirl of society, that gives me little time to fulfill the expectations of a girl in the midst of a London season.”

Collin made a humming sound. “Not to mention the gossip would make the rounds. Your desperation could easily become common knowledge. In that atmosphere such matches take a great deal of time.”

“Marry before the season.” Marianne smirked at his start of surprise. “Oh, come now. If you marry before January, when no one is yet in town, you avoid the gossips and the lengthened courtship time. Expectations are not high for courtships that take place outside of London.”

Marcus argued against that insane notion at once. “Did you forget that the season begins in one month? Where am I to find a woman to marry at such short notice? They hardly advertise such things in the Times. I would need to have the banns read this Sunday.” Marcus said adamantly. “No. That will never work. Unless you are hiding a flock of marriageable young ladies somewhere about the country.”

“Advertisements in the Times and now flocks.” Collin shook his head, lips pursed in amusement. “You truly know nothing about obtaining a bride.”

“Obviously not, as I am now several years behind you in doing so,” Marcus grumbled, not at all amused.

Marianne glanced from one man to the other, her eyebrows pulled down. “Marcus, we have discussed your situation at length and hit upon a scheme you may find reasonable. If Collin will be serious for a moment, I might explain it to you.”

“If it is a scheme of Collin’s there will be nothing reasonable about it.” Marcus scoffed but Collin cast his wife a long-suffering look. “Marianne, please share your thoughts on the matter. It will be a pleasure to hear what a lady of such fine taste, with the exception of her taste in husband, has to contribute to my sorry cause.”

Marianne leaned forward, her eyes glittering with mischief. “We know the perfect woman to aid you. She is practical and intelligent, which are both qualities you seem to want in a wife.”

“Is she an antidote, too?” He raised his eyebrows in question.

“Of course not. I would say she’s lovely,” Marianne protested.

“Does it really matter, given your time constraints?” Collin asked with a chuckle. “You are already being dreadfully specific about her abilities, but now you want beauty, too?”

Marcus glared at him. “I would prefer to avoid absolute beauty actually, but a wife with a pleasant countenance and all of her teeth in good repair is not too much to ask. There are the future children to consider.” Beautiful women could rarely be trusted, present company excluded. His heart had to pay for that lesson in life.