In the Arms of a Marquess Read Online Free PDF Page B

time.”
    “You would not dare.”
    “Wouldn’t I?”
    Footsteps sounded and Marcus appeared beside her.
    “My apologies. I was detained by an acquaintance.” His face looked oddly blotched.
    “Marcus, is everything all right?”
    “Certainly.” He chuckled uncomfortably. “Especially now that I am with you.”
    “I heard some of your conversation just now. It sounded like that man was threatening you.”
    “Of course not. Octavia, I have a great many business associates, just as St. John. Some are less genteel than others, I’m afraid. But this is nothing to concern you, merely a typical transaction. Men’s business.”
    He patted her hand. For the second time that evening. Tavy had the urge to remove her fingers from beneath his and throw her gaze across the theater.
    The actors retook the stage, and she pinned her attention to them until the applause ended and Marcus escorted her to the carriage waiting along the crowded block.
    “There you are, dear girl.” Lady Fitzwarren’s multiple chins bounced, her violet taffeta skirts billowing as she strode toward them at a clip far too rapid for a woman of her ample girth. “Crispin, you are gracious to see my charge to our carriage.”
    He handed the dowager up, a rumbling fit of coughs and snuffles accompanying her ascent. She waved a scented kerchief and settled onto the squabs.
    “You must join our party at Vauxhall tomorrow evening.”
    “Thank you, ma’am.” He smiled, but the expression did not reach his eyes, and his gaze shifted about the street. Gaslights burned amber halos across the pavement, heavy mist swirling about the people departing the theater like ghosts in a dream.
    “Marcus,” Tavy said quietly, “won’t you tell me what distresses you?”
    “My dear,” his brows knit, “if we are to get along well together you must leave the minor unpleasantries of business to me and content yourself with being beautiful and charming.” He took her hand. “Simply having you by my side relieves all foolish displeasures, I assure you.”
    Tavy nodded, but conviction settled. This could be her project. Marcus had trouble with a dishonest man of business. He would not share the problem with her. But if her future lay with him, she must do what she could to help. And she was fortunate to be perhaps the single lady in London who knew where best to seek assistance with this sort of challenge.
    A frisson of old doubt mingled with new certainty glistened up her spine. Pushing the sensation away, she took a step up, lifted her gaze past his shoulder, and her breath failed.
    As though it were yesterday and not a lifetime ago, in a street crowded with market stalls instead of carriages, bathed in sun rather than misty midnight rain, Lord Benjirou Doreé stood at a distance, watching her. Perfect, clear awareness shone in his dark eyes.
    She stared back and his regard did not falter.
    “Why do you keep that man in your service?”
    She dragged her gaze away and followed Marcus’s up to the coachman’s box where Abha sat beside Lady Fitzwarren’s groom.
    “He—” Tavy caught up her breath. “He has been with me for years.”
    “It is unseemly for a lady to go about London with a manservant of that sort.”
    She slid her fingers free. “Thank you, my lord. I will take that under advisement. Good evening.” She stepped into the carriage. The baron bowed and shut the door. Tavy sat back and closed her eyes, fingers clamped about her reticule.
    “What a splendid outing,” Lady Fitzwarren exclaimed. “I daresay I’ve never met with so many friends at one theater production. I’m simply exhausted from talking.” She chuckled liberally. “But you wouldn’t know a thing about that, you are such a demure lady now. Don’t remember you being like this when you were a girl. How you used to kick up a lark wherever I took you and St. John’s sisters about town. Must be that horrid East Indian sun. Bakes a girl’s head until she ain’t got two