short list of eligibles, Lord Alexander’s name occupies a well-deserved spot. He is courtly, quick of wit, and has an excellent seat on a horse. The excellent seat of his trousers is not to be lightly dismissed either.”
Lucinda’s cheeks heated. She hadn’t encountered listings of such an earthy bent before this when she leafed through the guidebook. But the creeping blush didn’t make her stop reading.
“When Lord Alexander sets himself to charm, any woman in his path will be hard-pressed not to be swept along by his dangerous allure.”
Lucinda could testify to that. The man had quite taken her breath away. Thank heaven his less remarkable friend was there, too. Sir Bertram Clarindon was a comfortable sort.
Still, her gaze was drawn back to the guide for more information about the decidedly uncomfortable Lord Alexander.
“However, the young Mallory has never, to this observer’s certain knowledge, debauched a virgin or ruined an otherwise reputable widow. That in itself is hearty commendation for someone so closely attached to the dissolute court of King George IV.”
Not having debauched a virgin or ruined a widow is setting the bar for good behavior rather low. Seems they’re damning him with faint praise.
But it didn’t stop her from reading on.
“Well-informed readers will recall the unpleasantness about his mother years ago, but in truth, the least said about that, the better. Neither of the marquis’s sons has shown any propensity for madness. Lord Alexander may be safely regarded a thorough catch by one and all.”
Madness in the family is no impediment, eh? I wonder what it would take for The Ladies’ Guide to Eligible Gentlemen to disqualify someone.
Then Lucinda’s gaze fell on the last line of the entry.
“However, Lord Alexander shows no signs of allowing himself to be caught.”
“That he doesna.” She closed the book with a snap. “No’ even when he’s presented with a legal betrothal.”
Her chest had swelled with bewildered happiness when she learned the fine lad she’d admired turned out to be her betrothed. A small candle of hope flickered in her heart. Now that he claimed the betrothal was a mistake, that flame was completely guttered. She leaned against the sink, bracing herself with both arms to keep from collapsing to the stone floor.
“No’ just a mistake. A terrible mistake, he says.” A small sob escaped her throat as she swiped away an angry tear.
“Now, now, lassie, ye ought no’ to cry. No’ over the likes of a MacGregor,” Brodie MacIver said, hovering comfortably above the plate rail that ringed the small room near the ceiling.
“What makes you think I’m crying over him?” she hissed.
“Are ye forgettin’ how well I ken yer mind?”
“’Tis apparent I’ve sought your counsel too often over the years, but I’ll no’ be needin’ it the now. I’ll thank ye to tend to your own business, Brodie.”
“Fine. Have it yer way, lass. I’ll just nip back into the parlor and scare the living lights out of the lad. He’ll no’ be makin’ ye cry again if I have anythin’ to say about it.”
“Ye’ll do no such thing.”
“Ye wish me to tend to me own business.” Brodie sank down from his reclining position near the ceiling, coming to rest with the soles of his booted feet almost, but not quite, touching the flagstones. His belted plaid billowed in a nonexistent breeze. “Seein’ to yer protection is the only business I have.”
Lucinda turned from him to arrange fresh bannocks on a plate, lest he see what his support meant to her. Brodie had made no secret of the fact that he wanted her match to fail, but his devotion to her was a balm to her bruised spirit in any case. She’d have hugged him if such a thing were possible with a ghost.
However, for her family’s sake, Lu had to find a way to go forward with the marriage. Her father desperately needed the financial settlement specified in the contract. Lucinda’s elevation to
Lucinda’s cheeks heated. She hadn’t encountered listings of such an earthy bent before this when she leafed through the guidebook. But the creeping blush didn’t make her stop reading.
“When Lord Alexander sets himself to charm, any woman in his path will be hard-pressed not to be swept along by his dangerous allure.”
Lucinda could testify to that. The man had quite taken her breath away. Thank heaven his less remarkable friend was there, too. Sir Bertram Clarindon was a comfortable sort.
Still, her gaze was drawn back to the guide for more information about the decidedly uncomfortable Lord Alexander.
“However, the young Mallory has never, to this observer’s certain knowledge, debauched a virgin or ruined an otherwise reputable widow. That in itself is hearty commendation for someone so closely attached to the dissolute court of King George IV.”
Not having debauched a virgin or ruined a widow is setting the bar for good behavior rather low. Seems they’re damning him with faint praise.
But it didn’t stop her from reading on.
“Well-informed readers will recall the unpleasantness about his mother years ago, but in truth, the least said about that, the better. Neither of the marquis’s sons has shown any propensity for madness. Lord Alexander may be safely regarded a thorough catch by one and all.”
Madness in the family is no impediment, eh? I wonder what it would take for The Ladies’ Guide to Eligible Gentlemen to disqualify someone.
Then Lucinda’s gaze fell on the last line of the entry.
“However, Lord Alexander shows no signs of allowing himself to be caught.”
“That he doesna.” She closed the book with a snap. “No’ even when he’s presented with a legal betrothal.”
Her chest had swelled with bewildered happiness when she learned the fine lad she’d admired turned out to be her betrothed. A small candle of hope flickered in her heart. Now that he claimed the betrothal was a mistake, that flame was completely guttered. She leaned against the sink, bracing herself with both arms to keep from collapsing to the stone floor.
“No’ just a mistake. A terrible mistake, he says.” A small sob escaped her throat as she swiped away an angry tear.
“Now, now, lassie, ye ought no’ to cry. No’ over the likes of a MacGregor,” Brodie MacIver said, hovering comfortably above the plate rail that ringed the small room near the ceiling.
“What makes you think I’m crying over him?” she hissed.
“Are ye forgettin’ how well I ken yer mind?”
“’Tis apparent I’ve sought your counsel too often over the years, but I’ll no’ be needin’ it the now. I’ll thank ye to tend to your own business, Brodie.”
“Fine. Have it yer way, lass. I’ll just nip back into the parlor and scare the living lights out of the lad. He’ll no’ be makin’ ye cry again if I have anythin’ to say about it.”
“Ye’ll do no such thing.”
“Ye wish me to tend to me own business.” Brodie sank down from his reclining position near the ceiling, coming to rest with the soles of his booted feet almost, but not quite, touching the flagstones. His belted plaid billowed in a nonexistent breeze. “Seein’ to yer protection is the only business I have.”
Lucinda turned from him to arrange fresh bannocks on a plate, lest he see what his support meant to her. Brodie had made no secret of the fact that he wanted her match to fail, but his devotion to her was a balm to her bruised spirit in any case. She’d have hugged him if such a thing were possible with a ghost.
However, for her family’s sake, Lu had to find a way to go forward with the marriage. Her father desperately needed the financial settlement specified in the contract. Lucinda’s elevation to
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