Only Marriage Will Do Read Online Free PDF Page A

taste that had drawn beauty from simple things. Her death six years ago was another hurt scarcely bandaged. The most recent blow to his heart, however, took precedence today.
    He’d been in love with Katarina Fitzwilliam for several years, despite her youth. He had fenced with her, ridden with her, squired her to the local entertainments in Williamsburg’s provincial society during her last year in Virginia, and had finally asked her to marry him after her father’s death. Her stricken eyes and sudden tension had smote him even before her verbal refusal assailed his ear. He didn’t care that she did not love him. That might have grown in time from the regard and respect she admitted for him. Her refusal left no doubt. If he knew anything of Kat, it was of her honesty and forthrightness; had there been any hope, she would not have refused him outright.
    After she and Jack had set sail for London, he had tried to put the whole affair behind him. Then, in early May her letter had arrived, taking him by surprise and giving him a wild hope. If only it had not arrived with along with the news of his brother’s death.
    He stood, determined once more to forget her. She had married, and a marquess no less. Apparently, the troubles she had hinted at in her letter had been overcome in the most splendid of ways. He must wish her happy with the path she had chosen.
    Amiable started for the staircase, but stopped, unable to let the puzzle of Katarina’s actions go. If her life had been so idyllic, then why had she written the letter that had brought him to London yesterday and to the rather bizarre scene this morning with Lord Dalbury’s sister?
    The beautiful Lady Juliet presented a perpetual air of damsel in distress, although she had proved most resourceful. That she had pulled off that little drama without missing a beat suggested he had met a master of deception. Not a very desirable trait for a woman, but in her dire circumstances, forgivable. He usually loathed dishonesty in anyone, but even he had been swept up into the madness of her lie. Indeed, he would have fought the sickening blackguard for her honor. Would do it still if required. Perhaps a fencing match this afternoon would quench his blood thirst.
    He headed for his suite upstairs. Pray God Lady Juliet would not come to grief on her imprudent journey. A shame he could not have provided her with an escort, but he bore no relation to the woman at all. Her reputation would be in shreds by the time they reached their destination. Not to mention her brother would likely call him out for his pains.
    Neither did his own life need the addition of a romantic entanglement. Oh, but that woman could tempt a saint—a description that had never applied to him. Nothing appealed to him more, however, than a woman in need of rescue. No. He must dismiss the image of her—such a soft, sweet armful.
    Her fears about the Frenchman were likely unfounded. The fellow wouldn’t have the audacity to pursue her, if he thought her a married woman. Weighed against the impropriety of such an escort, even with the presence of her maid, his current course seemed the only prudent one.
    Entering his boyhood room, he signaled his valet for a change of clothes. The reputation of Angelo’s School of Arms had reached even to the backwater of Virginia. He might as well go see for himself if it deserved its repute. One never knew when one would be called on to defend a lady’s honor. Best err on the side of caution and be well prepared.
    * * * *
    For over an hour they fought their way out of the madness of the London traffic, jostled by huge wagons filled with goods, almost run down by a phaeton driven by a wild-haired gentleman, and slowed to a crawl by the sheer number of vehicles leaving the city. A lengthy journey fraught with tension that had drained her more than she expected. Juliet gave thanks to God as her coach pulled into the inn yard of The Blue Bull.
    Roberts swung down as soon as the