Marrying the Marquis Read Online Free PDF Page B

marquis’s tight-lipped expression. “Your feet must carry the scars from my missteps.”
    Everyone, including the marquis, smiled at that.
    “You danced like a dream,” the prince said.
    “What an interesting ring,” Blaze said, her gaze dropping to the prince’s hand.
    Lykos held his hand up, freeing her hand. On the third finger of his right hand was a gold ring shaped like a wolf’s head, two rubies its glittering eyes. “My parents gave me this when I graduated university.”
    “You must have done well to earn such a reward,” Blaze said.
    “On the contrary,” Lykos said with a smile, “I could see no good reason a wealthy prince needed to study but did manage to graduate. Their gift reflects my parents’ relief, not pride.”
    “Ahem.” The Duke of Inverary cleared his throat, indicating their conversation should end. “I believe both my daughters have met the Marquis of Awe.”
    “A pleasure to see you again,” Raven said.
    Blaze gave the marquis an ambiguous smile. “His Lordship and I enjoyed a”—she glanced at her father—“a most informative conversation this afternoon.”
    “Call me Ross.” The marquis bowed over her hand.
    His dark gaze and easy smile had an odd effect on Blaze. Her knees felt suddenly weak, and butterflies winged in the bottom of her belly. Masking this dizzying response behind a frozen smile, Blaze dropped her gaze. Unlike the prince, MacArthur wore no rings, and his hands appeared roughened from working with horses.
    “Where is that dog of yers?” Ross asked her.
    “Puddles is sleeping off those cookies you fed him.”
    Her father injected himself into the conversation. “Blaze and Raven, you have never met Dirk Stanley, the Earl of Boston.”
    Blaze turned to the earl, easily the handsomest of the three. His blond hair, green eyes, and perfectly formed features lent him an angelic expression, but the gleam in his fabulous green eyes was pure mischief.
    Dirk Stanley bowed over her hand. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady.”
    “I am merely a miss.” Blaze noted the diamond ring the earl wore on his pinky finger. His unblemished hands had never met any work.
    “Ross and Dirk are brothers,” her father said.
    That surprised Blaze. She looked from one to the other but could see no resemblance.
    “We are step brothers,” Ross corrected her father.
    “After mourning the loss of their respective spouses,” Dirk said, “his father and my mother married to assuage their loneliness.”
    “Their spouses died together?” Blaze blurted in surprise and then caught her stepmother’s grimace.
    “You misunderstand me,” Dirk said. “My own father had already died, and when my brother’s—”
    “ Step brother,” Ross corrected him again.
    Blaze could almost feel the tension emanating from the marquis. She had truly stepped into a faux pas .
    “When my stepbrother’s mother suffered an untimely passing,” Dirk explained, “his father married my mother.”
    “I apologize for prying,” Blaze said, and peeked at the marquis. MacArthur was staring at his stepbrother with an expression of contempt.
    “Yer Highness, I didna realize ye had an interest in thoroughbreds,” Ross said, turning to Kazanov.
    “Call me Lykos,” the prince said. “Thoroughbred racing is a pleasurable and sometimes profitable pursuit. Dealing in diamonds and other precious gems is my business.”
    “I thought Russians peddled vodka,” Dirk injected himself into the conversation.
    “Russian princes do not peddle,” Lykos told the earl.
    “Forgive my poor choice of words, Your Highness,” Dirk apologized, his smile ingratiating.
    “I forgive you, Dick.”
    “Dirk.”
    Blaze swallowed a bubble of laughter. She would bet her last penny the prince had purposely mispronounced the earl’s name, and she noted no permission granted to use his given name.
    Three rivals vying for her attention could be amusing. She did not need to marry any of them, merely enjoy the