"Marcus does not like to be thwarted. He is formidably single-minded when he wants something. One might call him an unstoppable force."
"And Lydia is the immovable object. How do you suppose it will end?"
He shook his head with a sigh. "Either very well or very badly. After six hours together in the coach, I daresay they will come to some sort of understanding."
Lydia had given up on Marcus in the belief that he didn't want her, but if what Mr. Needham said was true, and the love match Lydia had always dreamt of was more than just a dream, she hoped Lydia would find it in her heart to forgive Marcus.
"What of you, Mr. Needham?" Gaze downcast, Mariah began plucking the fingers of her gloves. "Do you ever think of marriage?"
"I do not," he replied. "To do so would be pointless."
She forced her gaze upward to search his eyes. "Why is that? Do you not desire a home . . . a family?"
"It's not lack of desire, my lady, but lack of means. I have no title, property, or fortune."
"I have all of those," Mariah replied. "I am heir to a title and estate in my own right, along with a significant fortune, and it's been nothing but a curse."
"Why do you say so?" he asked softly.
"Because all heiresses are beautiful," she replied dryly, wondering if he would recognize the Dryden quote. His thin smile said he did. "I fear becoming a target of fortune hunters. I do wish to marry one day, but I don't want to be the means to an end. I hope to find someone who will care for me, not just my wealth and property."
"You are wise to be wary. There are many unscrupulous men in the world, those who would go to extreme measures to gain what you have. I even fear you may be entering the wolves’ den."
"How so?"
"Many of the duke's guests will be younger sons who bear courtesy titles but have no property or means outside of the diplomatic corps. I warn you to take great care with such men."
"Did you not just describe yourself, Mr. Needham?"
"No, my lady. The difference is that I would never presume to pay suit to a lady when I have nothing to offer her."
Never? Mariah's heart gave a painful squeeze. "You believe you have nothing to offer? I beg to differ with you. You are well bred, are you not? You are also young, intelligent, and ambitious." She barely caught herself from adding handsome to his list of attributes. Although she found it increasingly difficult to ignore his good looks, it was hardly relevant to the discussion. "Many men in like positions to yours have achieved greatness without having been born into it."
"My lady, while I consider myself a competent and sensible man, I do not delude myself with visions of grandeur. To do so would be needless torture."
"But didn't you say that you once hoped to achieve a ministry post?"
"That was before I fully understood the workings of the machine," he said.
She marveled that the men in charge of the government could be such self-aggrandizing fools that they refused to recognize a man for his true worth. Then again, she hadn't enough experience of such men or matters to know.
"But now that you do understand, is there not a way to work this so-called machine in your favor?" she asked.
"How do you mean?"
"You said earlier that the Duke of Bedford is fond of cricket. Do you play?"
"I have little time for sporting pursuits."
Mariah slanted her gaze upward and replied with a smile, "But if patronage is indeed how the wheels of this machine turn, perhaps, Mr. Needham, you should take up the game?"
***
Nick considered her for a long, silent moment. It wasn't the actual remark she had made, but the look that accompanied it. He was certain she was unaware of it, but the seductive wood nymph had reappeared. There was something mesmerizing about the angle of her head, the way she pursed her lips, and the stray curl that had entangled itself about her ear that made him suddenly want to touch her. The urge was so powerful he had to close his hands against it. "I used to play," he replied. "Back in my university days."
"And I used to play the harpsichord," she said, "but I was never any good. So now I must ask, were you good, Mr. Needham?"
"I was one of the better batsmen," he replied. "I frequently hit over the boundary."
"Indeed?" Her eyes challenged as her gaze held his. "Then one wonders if you still possess talent with your bat or if it has diminished with disuse."
Nick shifted in his seat. If this were any other woman of his acquaintance, he would have no doubt of the sexual innuendo, but he was as certain as he lived and breathed that the "bat" to which Lady Mariah referred was merely the club made of willow. "I don't know. I haven't held a cricket bat in over five years," he said.