"I would need some direction on how you wish to proceed."
"Of course." The earl smiled. "I already eliminated seven of the ten names at a glance. I refuse to take a wife I would have to bed under cover of darkness. As to those remaining, I would have you discover their temperaments, whether there is madness or disfigurement amongst their respective families, and of course the extent of property and dowry that would be transferred upon marriage. You will then choose the best amongst them and negotiate the settlements."
"You don't wish to meet your prospective bride?"
"It is unnecessary that I do so," Rochford replied. "I only desire that she be biddable and beddable. I won't suffer a shrew or a hag. Other than that, I care little." Rochford picked up a quill, dipped it into the ink pot, and began striking names from the list. He then handed it to Nick.
Nick glanced down at the three remaining names—Lady Albinia Albright, eldest daughter of the eponymous marquess; Lady Georgiana Throckmorton, youngest daughter of the Earl of Westmoreland; and . . . the last made his pulse come to life with a deafening roar: Lady Mariah Morehaven, Baroness of Morehaven in her own right.
Nick stared dumbly at her name, his pulse hammering. "Is this the order of preference, my lord?" he asked carefully.
"Not precisely. I seem to recall we have a mutual acquaintance in Lady Mariah," Rochford said. "I am informed that her father has recently passed on, which compels her to wed. I briefly considered making her an offer once before, but her conversation was so lackluster that I lost interest. Nevertheless, she was passable in every other capacity. You may begin with her, Needham. She has inherited extensive properties in addition to a large fortune, which makes her the obvious choice. Unless you discover some other defect in her, you may move forward on my behalf."
His chest seized at the realization that Rochford had already set his sights on Mariah.
Dear God in heaven, did ever a man suffer such a wretched conundrum?
CHAPTER NINE
"Love’s a malady without a cure."- John Dryden
Russell House, Bedford Square—Three weeks later
"MARIAH!" Lydia exclaimed, taking her cousin into as close an embrace as her great belly would allow. "I am so happy you have come!"
"How could I not when you have asked me to be the godmother? Lyddie, you are big as a house!" Mariah declared with a laugh. "Are you quite sure you do not carry twins?"
Lydia scowled. "Marcus boasts that I carry triplets. The beast has already christened his three unborn sons Maxim, Maximillian, and Maximus. 'Twill serve him right if I birth a daughter."
"How soon, Lyddie?"
"The doctor has said another fortnight at least, but the midwife believes it could begin in a few days with the full moon. I hope my daughter will wait until then. I would hate to miss the celebration."
"What celebration is this?"
"Next week there is a grand gala at Richmond House in Whitehall. The king was so distraught about the debacle at Green Park that the duke has taken it upon himself to host a private performance at his home."
"What debacle?" Mariah asked.
"Have you not heard about it?"
"No, I rarely read the London papers. What happened?"
"It was the command performance of Mr. Handel's musical tribute to the peace signing last autumn. It was to be a very grand affair with a one hundred-piece orchestra and a spectacle of illuminations. So great was the anticipation that the dress rehearsal at Vauxhall shut down London Bridge for over three hours! The papers estimated a crush of twelve thousand!"
"Twelve thousand!" Mariah exclaimed. "I can't even imagine so many people gathered in one place. What then happened at Green Park?"
"The weather was atrocious. The illuminations were rained out, and then in the middle of the musical performance, the pavilion caught fire! It was an utter disaster! The king was said to be disconsolate over it.”
"According to Lady Russell, his privy council called a special meeting specifically to come up with something to restore his good humor. They have decided to put on a gala at the Duke of Richmond's home on the Thames. Bedford is to provide the orchestra, directed by Mr. Handel himself, and the Duke of Montagu is arranging the illuminations. The king knows nothing of their plans. It will be a great surprise!"
"How exciting," Mariah agreed. "But is it advisable for you to go out among so many people in your condition?"
"Marcus and I had a battle royale over it, but we finally struck a compromise. We will make the briefest possible appearance at the party and then observe the illuminations from a distance. We will travel by private barge as we should also be able to hear the music since sound travels so well across water."
"That sounds ideal—to be able to enjoy the celebration without fighting the swarms of people."
"I know how much you dislike crowds, Mariah, but I'm afraid you will have to accustom yourself to them if you will be staying in London."