Marcus's smile dimmed. "Are you indeed? I knew you were taken with her, but did you and she have some kind of understanding?"
"Of a sorts," Nick replied. "But only weeks ago, I wrote to release her from her promise."
"You did? Why would you do such a stupid thing?" Marcus asked.
"Because I'm a bloody dolt! I'd had too much to drink and was feeling sorry for myself. I essentially commanded her to seek someone else because I didn't want to ruin her life waiting for something that was never going to happen."
Marcus took a slow sip. "I hate to be the bearer of ill-tidings, but she seems to have taken you at your word."
"What do you mean? Have you heard something?"
"More than that, I'm afraid. She's asked my mother to help her find a suitable husband."
Nick stiffened. "She would act so soon?"
"Her mourning period has ended, and you released her. How long do you expect her to wait?"
"I . . . I . . ." Nick found himself at a loss for words. Why was he so distraught when she was only doing what he himself had made her promise to do?
"If it makes you feel any better, I believe her circumstances oblige her to act. Mama informed me that her father's will demands that she wed within a year of his passing or forego a large portion of her inheritance. You must go to her and tell her you're a bloody jackass and then beg her clemency."
"To what purpose? I am in no better position to offer for her than I was a year ago."
"Do you fear she would refuse you?"
He shook his head. "She said she would have me."
"Then take your bloody head out of your arse and ask her!"
"And become precisely what I despise? I have no respect for men who wed women for their money."
"Do you intend to squander her fortune?"
"Of course not! Were I her husband, I would do my very best to make her life happy and comfortable and secure. I would ensure that her tenants' needs were met and that her estates and investments were managed with the greatest prudence."
"Would you keep a mistress?"
"I have never done such a thing, even as a bachelor. I could never break faith with the woman I love."
"Then you are already superior to almost any other man she might marry. Do you suppose Rochford will give up gaming or mistresses for her?"
"Not bloody likely," Nick scoffed. "I won't have it, Marcus. I'm not about to give her up to some worthless sod who will only hurt her."
"Then what are you going to do about it?"
"I'm damned if I know." Nick took a long drink of brandy, shutting his eyes to the slow burn as it slid down his throat. "Rochford sent me here. Honor compels me to do as I promised him. I can't betray his trust, Marcus, but I'll be damned if I'll let him have her. There is no question in my mind that she would be desperately unhappy with him."
Marcus thoughtfully swirled the liquid remaining in his glass. "Then who is to say she would even accept him? If you were to propose on his behalf and she refused the proposal, you would have no option but to find Rochford another bride."
Nick frowned. "You aren't suggesting sabotage?"
"Nothing of the kind, my friend," Marcus replied lazily. "There is absolutely no need to besmirch the prospective groom. You only need to allow the facts to speak for themselves. You must simply present the reality of what a marriage to Rochford would be."
"Marcus, you are a bloody genius!" Nick exclaimed. "I was so self-absorbed in my misery that I couldn't see the obvious." Nick drained his drink and set down the glass with a sigh of relief. He finally had some semblance of a plan. Now all that remained was its execution. Nick waved his hand as Marcus reached to pour another drink. "I haven't time, I'm afraid. 'Tis four days’ travel to Derbyshire. I must be off at once."
"Derbyshire would be a wasted trip," Marcus said.
Nick froze. "What are you saying? Has she already accepted someone?"
"Not what I mean, ol' man. Mariah isn't in Derbyshire."
"How the devil would you know?"
"Because she's due to arrive in London today. She will be staying with my mother at Russell House."
"Why the hell didn't you tell me to begin with?" Nick snapped.
"Marcus's mouth stretched into a slow smirk. "Because you didn't ask me."
CHAPTER TEN
"Love works a different way in different minds,
The fool it enlightens, the wise it blinds." - John Dryden
"YOU HAVE A CALLER, Lady Mariah," the footman announced. Mariah's hands froze on her needlework. Lydia and Lady Russell raised their brows in unison as the servant crossed the morning room to offer her a gold-embossed calling card.
"Who do you suppose it could be? I don't know a soul in London." Bewildered, she accepted the card and turned it over, only to grow even more puzzled. "Lord Rochford?"
"Rochford?" Lady Russell repeated. "I thought he was in Turin."
"He was," Lydia confirmed. "Perhaps he has returned for the king's celebration? He was, after all, one of the treaty's chief engineers."