Mariah sighed. "You must know how much I dread what is to come."
Lydia took her hand. "I know, dearest, but this is the perfect opportunity to introduce you to London society. Moreover, all the eligible gentlemen of the ton will there. I promise that Lady Russell and I will do all that we can to help you find the right one."
"I thought I already had," Mariah said sadly.
"You still haven't told me what happened between you. I thought you and Mr. Needham had an understanding."
"We did but it . . . expired."
Lydia looked confused. "Expired?"
"He asked me to wait one year and made me promise that I would look for another if he did not return to claim my hand within that time. We corresponded weekly for over six months. I cherished every precious letter I received from him, but then they started arriving with less frequency. At first, I thought it was the unreliability of the foreign mail, but then I also noticed a difference in his tone. His letters became shorter. He spoke more about the present and less about our future. It was as if he was emotionally withdrawing from me. It was then that I started to wonder if his sentiments toward me had changed. Then, three weeks ago, almost a year to the day we sealed our bargain, I received a letter stating that he released me from my vow." She fought the quivering that had begun in her lip and blinked fiercely against the threat of tears. "I can only presume by his actions that he has indeed found someone else."
Lydia's eyes widened. "You cannot know that, Mariah! Perhaps he was only thinking of you?"
"I wonder if he's thought of me at all," Mariah replied bitterly. "I believed he truly cared for me, but the more I think about it, the more convinced I am that he only cares about himself and what other people think of him."
"That's harsh, dear. Why would you say that?"
"If he truly loved me, wouldn't he set his pride aside to be with me?" She continued with an angry sniff, "I hope his infernal pride keeps him warm at night."
"Come," Lydia hooked her arm through Mariah's, "I will take you to your room and then I will show you the nursery."
***
White's Gentleman's Club, Mayfair
"Needham!" The moment Nick entered the room, Marcus strode past the tables of gamesters with arms extended. "What a fortuitous meeting! Pray tell me what brings you back to London so unexpectedly?"
"Business of a most disconcerting nature," Nick replied soberly. "I am so glad to have found you here."
"It is lucky indeed. Lydia and I only arrived from Modena a fortnight ago. Lydia refused to give birth outside of England. She believes it would make our sons less English."
"Sons?" Nick gaped. "As in more than one?"
Marcus grinned. "I'll let you be the judge when you see her. Indeed, there is even a wager placed in the betting book about how many she carries." He inclined his head to the table displaying the infamous tome. "So how do you fare under Rochford, Nick?"
"It took a while for him to look beyond my batting ability to my actual qualifications, but now he has gone so far as to entrust me with some business of an unusually personal nature."
"Unusually personal? Intriguing. Come, man." He laid a hand on Nick's shoulder. "Let us repair to a quiet corner for a drink, and we'll talk."
Marcus led Nick to his corner table, where a servant poured a generous amount of deep amber liquid into two glasses. Marcus offered the first to Nick, who slouched back in his leather-covered chair to take in the once-familiar surroundings—the low murmur of voices, broken by an occasional laugh, the distinctive riffle of cards, and the rattle of dice boxes from the next room.
Accepting the glass, Nick inhaled deeply of the smoky, sweet scent. "Brandy? You have given up port?"
Marcus grinned. "As our esteemed Dr. Johnson would say, ‘Claret is the liquor for boys; port for men; but he who aspires to be a hero must drink brandy.’ Now that we are no longer at war with France, I am endeavoring to make up for eight years of deprivation. It's a pleasure I have sorely missed, but it is still a far second to the company of my best friend. So what is this personal business that has you overset? Does Rochford desire you to play pimp for him?"
Nick almost laughed aloud, so close was Marcus's jibe to hitting the mark. "Not quite, but very close," he answered. "He has appointed me his agent in a mission of matrimony. He has promised me a position in the department of my choosing if I successfully negotiate his marriage."
"Matrimony? Is that all?" Marcus's laugh echoed through the chamber. "And precisely why is this so disconcerting to you? Isn't this precisely what you'd hoped for—an opportunity to advance?"
"Because it's a veritable devil's bargain, that's why! His first choice of bride is Mariah."
Marcus paused, glass raised to his lips. He took a swallow and carefully set it down. "Mariah Morehaven? Lydia's cousin?"
"Yes. And I am in dire need of a friend's counsel."