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“What other lady?” the Marquess said, cottoning onto the words and flicking his head round to the three of them. Marcus waved a hand in the air behind his father’s back, watching as Walter, Laurie and Peter all flinched at that warning motion.
“No lady,” Walter said hurriedly.
“Weren’t you three going to play cricket?” Marcus said, eager to get them away.
“So we were.” Walter pushed Peter and Laurie in the back again out of the door, but they didn’t get very far, only a couple of steps.
“So, Lady Helen,” the Marquess said, turning his attention back to her. “It is time we talked about the particulars.”
“Of course,” she said, shifting her body so that her side was resting against Marcus’. He recoiled from her.
There was an image in his mind of when he had pulled Victor, no…Lady Violette, back from the water’s edge when she had nearly fallen in the time that they had gone fishing. He thought about that moment with a different mindset. He’d had an arm around Lady Violette’s waist and her body pressed against his. Little wonder she had blushed. The mere thought of it made his stomach lurch with excitement, an exhilaration he did not feel when Lady Helen touched him.
“My lord,” Lady Helen turned her focus to Marcus. “Shall we discuss a date?” It didn’t take long to figure out what she meant— a date for a wedding.
“A date!?” Marcus released his arm from hers, flicking his head back and forth between Lady Helen and his father. “Do you not think this not a little presumptuous when I have not even asked the question?”
“I told you he’d do it,” Peter said from the other side of the door.
“Can you not hold your tongue?” Walter asked, hitting him round the arm again.
“Nope, and you owe me a shilling. I win the bet.”
“You bet on this?” Marcus asked, turning toward his brothers.
“I’ll go fetch the cricket bat,” Laurie said, hurrying off as quickly as he could, just as Walter retreated too. Peter shrugged as though it were no big deal at all.
“Marcus, this is not the time for this conversation,” the Marquess said with an outstretched hand as if he were trying to calm a wild animal.
“On the contrary, Father, it is. I would like to know why you two are arranging a wedding I have not agreed to. I have not proposed to Lady Helen. In fact, I have no desire whatsoever to marry her.” He snapped his gaze toward her, watching as her eyes widened in amazement. “I respect you, my lady, and I have no doubts that you will do very well in life and make a good match. You have a habit of making nearly every man fall at your feet, but I am not the man who will fall there now.”
“But…my lord.” She seemed stunned. “Surely you do not desire another?”
He knew the answer to that. He did. He very much desired to see another lady right now. He longed to speak to Lady Violette, to talk over everything that had happened. He wished he could turn back the clock and relive the moment where she had kissed him the day before. If only he could kiss her again, indulge in it this time, and discover how he truly felt.
“That is not the matter to discuss right now,” Marcus said with firmness. “Father,” he turned his attention to the Marquess, “You wish for me to marry? Very well, I have agreed, and I will do, but I will not marry a woman of your choosing. I will marry a woman of my choosing.”
He walked away as quickly as he could.
“Where are you going? Marcus, you will come back and discuss this now!” the Marquess called to him, but Marcus had no wish to listen. There was someone in particular he needed to talk to now.
He left the main corridor of the house and made his way quickly to the servants’ quarters. Pushing past maids and footmen, he watched as they all jumped back in surprise to see one of the masters below stairs. Once he reached the kitchen, he was dismayed to find there was still no sign of Lady Violette’s valet, but he did find the butler bent over the kitchen table.
“My lord!” the butler exclaimed in surprise, jumping to his feet, and nearly knocking the food on his plate flying. “Is there something wrong?”
“I am not sure how to answer that question,” Marcus said, running a hand through his hair in stress. “Where is Sherborne? Mr Blake’s valet.”
“Ah, yes, well, he disappeared yesterday, you may have heard,” the butler said hurriedly. “We were unable to find him when Mr Blake left. Sherborne turned up yesterday evening, explaining that there had been an argument between him and his master. He was most upset to hear Mr Blake had already departed from the house.”
“He is here then?” Marcus asked, stepping forward with eagerness.
“He is wandering the estate thinking what to do next, I believe.”
***
Marcus had been riding the horse for what felt like hours. The steed was beginning to tire beneath him for having ridden for so long and so hard, and Marcus had grown heated in the hot summer weather, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows doing little good at easing his discomfort.
He was about to give up and return to the house when he caught sight of a figure. They were walking alongside the lake, kicking stones rather angrily into the water.
