Maddie blinked. So Ashley and Lord Nicholas did have a past. Funny, she didn’t remember Ashley ever mentioning him . . .
“Maybe I like driving a carriage,” Lord Nicholas argued.
“Maybe there was something between you and Miss Brittany.”
“Oh, no, you’re not fobbing her off on me, Blackthorne. You’re the one she told her father she was marrying, not me.”
“So I’m doomed,” Blackthorne said, and Maddie thought that the man actually sounded it.
“Doomed?” Lord Nicholas laughed. “There are worse fates than being married to a girl who looks like that. She’s got every buck from seventeen to seventy-two after her.”
“Are you one of them?” Blackthorne asked. “I’m not having some chit come between us.”
There was a long pause, and Lord Nicholas finally said, “I’m through with that one. You’re welcome to her. She’ll make you an excellent marchioness. She’s certainly haughty enough.”
Maddie clenched her fists. Just like a man to talk about a woman as though she were a piece of property for them to barter or show off to friends and neighbors. Did either man consider poor Ashley, and how she would be forced to marry a man she didn’t know and—from what Maddie could tell—didn’t like much?
Of course not. Arrogant men. They thought every woman wanted them.
“She is beautiful,” Blackthorne was saying, and Maddie leaned in closer. His voice was low and quiet, decidedly not boastful, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t gloating. “But she’s got a bit of a temper.”
Lord Nicholas laughed again. For two brothers so alike in appearance, Maddie couldn’t believe the difference in behavior. She’d yet to hear Blackthorne laugh, while his brother seemed to do it all the time.
“What’s a bit of a temper?” Lord Nicholas went on. “Could be fun, and I’m certain she’s nothing you can’t handle.”
“Oh, I’m looking forward to handling her,” Blackthorne said, and Maddie took a step back, unwilling to hear more.
It sounded very much like Blackthorne was anticipating his marriage to Ashley— or at least the wedding night.
Maddie had nothing but worry and reservation about her own wedding night. She hardly knew Mr. Dover. She’d met him at a meeting of the . . . Society of Animal Studies—oh, the society had a much fancier name than that, but she couldn’t remember it.
She’d attended because she was concerned about bear baiting. Actually, she hadn’t even known the cruel sport existed until she took a wrong turn after delivering food to a widow. The woman lived in a decidedly questionable area of town. When Maddie had gone out a back door, instead of turning a corner and seeing her coach and footmen, she’d walked into a circle of men, a chained and bloody bear, and two vicious dogs.
She had cried for the poor bear all the way home. She’d begged her father to go back and buy the animal, but, as usual, he refused. The next day, when she’d seen an announcement for a meeting of the Animal Society, she had made arrangements to attend.
But the men there had ignored her concerns about the bear. Instead, they’d been more interested in talking about new species and poring over a book of insect drawings by a man living in India.
Only Mr. Dover had listened and seemed concerned. He alone had commiserated with her over the fate of the poor bear. Later that night, when her parents dragged her to a musicale, during which she had to endure not one, but two whispered proposals, she thought again of Mr. Dover.
As a child, she had sworn not to marry, but it was becoming increasingly clear that she would have to renege on that promise. Two of her cousins had already left the ranks of the Spinster’s Club, and Maddie knew her turn was next. If it had to be, why shouldn’t she choose someone who would be a partner with her in her charitable causes? Yes, Mr. Dover was officious and fond of lecturing. But what man wasn’t?
She’d gone to several additional meetings of the Animal Society and, after talking with Mr. Dover more, made her proposition. At first, he was as surprised as any man might be, but she knew from their conversations that he was a widower with two small children. She argued that he needed a wife.
He didn’t disagree, but he did point out that her family would never accept a man like him—a scholar not of the aristocracy.
And so they hatched a plan to elope to Gretna Green, and to Maddie’s amazement, all they’d envisioned was coming to fruition.
Well, except for Ashley’s interference.
And Lord Blackthorne and Lord Nicholas. And Ashley’s father.
And . . .
Maddie shook her head. She pulled open the carriage door and climbed up the steps, chiding herself for being so negative.
Everything would work out just fine. Just as it should. She would marry Mr. Dover, and Ashley would marry Lord Blackthorne, and then all her cousins would be happily married.
Catie had the smart and successful Lord Valentine. Josie had the handsome, adventurous Lord Westman. Ashley would have the dark and dangerous Lord Blackthorne.
