Genevieve smiled up at her. “I know. You’re wondering why you made friends with such a sticky beak.” Her voice lowered to seriousness. “Marianne, I don’t want you settling for second best. Not when best can be extraordinary. I never imagined I’d marry. I couldn’t see any decent man putting up with my odd ways. Then when I fell in love with Richard, it was beyond belief that the ton’s darling could ever want an eccentric bluestocking like me.”
Usually Genevieve hid her vulnerabilities. It was something they had in common. This confession of past insecurity soothed Marianne’s resentment. “And now you’re blissfully happy.”
“In my wildest dreams, I never pictured falling in love with someone like Richard. And nobody would ever expect someone like Richard to love me. Yet I know he’d die for me if I asked him. Although he’d make sure he selected the appropriate coat first.”
Marianne smiled. Richard Harmsworth was famously always dressed comme il faut. “That’s true.”
The amusement faded from Genevieve’s eyes. “So I’m begging you to listen to your heart when you make your decision, even if your head—and your father—say you’re making a mistake.”
“It would be a mistake to marry a fortune hunter,” Marianne said sourly.
Genevieve frowned. “I can’t believe that’s all Elias wants of you. Last Christmas, he looked at you like the embodiment of his dearest dreams.”
Agonized longing stabbed Marianne, but she pummeled it back and clung to harsh reality. “The embodiment of his dearest dreams is a new roof on Houghton Park and paying off Peter’s mortgages.”
Genevieve gave a huff of disgust and stood up, disturbing Sirius into a doggy complaint. “I never knew you were such a cynic.”
“Elias needs to marry an heiress, Genevieve. Just now he thinks I might solve his financial troubles. If it means playing the ardent admirer for a few weeks, the eventual returns make it worthwhile.”
Genevieve’s expression was sad. “What a miserable view of life.”
“I’m being sensible.”
“I think you’re blind,” Genevieve said shortly. “And if you’re not careful, you’re going to stumble into a ditch you can’t climb out of. See how sensible you feel then.”
Chapter Six
* * *
“Well, if it isn’t my old chum, Noah.”
Jonas glanced up from staring into the fire to see Richard in the doorway, looking ready as ever to grace a drawing room in Mayfair. Sirius pushed past his master and stopped for Jonas to scratch his ears, before flopping beside the hearth with a groan of pleasure.
“The devil with you, shut the blasted door and your mouth as well.” Jonas kept his voice low, although the rain hitting the windows was loud enough to cover anything short of a gunshot.
Ignoring the unceremonious welcome, Richard closed the library door and sauntered across to sit without invitation on the leather chair facing the one Jonas occupied.
“There’s a definite whiff of bear lurking in his den,” he said lightly. He reached toward the table between the chairs and filled a glass from the decanter of brandy set there. “Shall I call for candles?”
“Don’t you bloody dare,” Jonas grunted, shaking his head as Richard raised the decanter in his direction. His glass was half full. He’d retreated in here for a quiet drink before dinner and found the privacy more to his taste than the liquor.
“Definitely a bear in a cave.” Richard smiled through the firelit gloom.
“Sidonie’s packed the place with a host of fools and mountebanks,” Jonas said. “I set up this confounded house party to get some business done, not to play host to every young buck in the ton without sense to keep out of the rain.”
“A grumpy bear,” Richard murmured, sipping his brandy and stretching his legs toward the flames. “It’s not your visitors’ fault that it’s raining too hard for them to travel.”
“It’s their fault that they’re here in the first place. I should have known there would be trouble when I let damned Baildon bring his daughter. But the man insisted—thought this was an ideal chance to finalize the match with Desborough.”
“Now we’re awash in Marianne Seaton’s admirers.”
Jonas surveyed his friend without pleasure. “I suppose you know Sidonie’s scheming to stymie Baildon’s plans.”
“Genevieve might have mentioned it. I believe Elias Thorne is somewhere about the house.”
“And that coxcomb Tranter imposed himself on my goodwill. If I’m not careful, Baildon will take all those lovely fields in Hampstead and sell them to someone else.”
“You’ll get over the disappointment, old man. You’re the richest cove in England.”