Engaging the Earl

“No,” Marcus said before the man even had time to close his mouth on the question.

“Not even to help—”

Marcus slashed his hand through the air. “I said no.” He wasn’t going to burden his tenants to fund his own social-reform agenda. “We’ll find another way.” He didn’t know whom he was trying to convince—the two downtrodden men, or himself. “And I won’t abandon all hope that the ship is, indeed, safe.”

Grimshaw opened his mouth to speak then promptly closed it again. Another time or two of the same routine, and the estate manager finally found his voice. “I wouldn’t get my hopes up, my lord. No one has heard from the ship. Nor have any of the rescue ships sent out located any sign of it.”

“I’ll continue to pray,” Marcus said.

The two men stayed for only a few more minutes. Really, there was nothing left to discuss. And when Marcus was left alone in his study, he felt the weight of his predicament bearing down on him.

What was he going to do? The urge was strong to stay in his study and keep searching his finances for answers. Pouring over ledgers and account books wouldn’t make a difference in the reality of the situation, however. He trusted Wilbanks and had no reason not to take the older man at his word. If anyone knew the state of the family’s coffers, it was the solicitor who’d been serving the Fairfaxes for years.

Marcus was trying to devise an outing that would occupy his mind for a bit when his butler brought in a letter from his sister, Olivia.

Drop whatever you’re doing. I urgently need to see you.

Less than half an hour later, his sister’s butler, Mathis, barely had time to open the front door of the house before Marcus was pushing his way in. In the time it took him to ride to the Huntsford town house, he’d had ample opportunity to envision what might be wrong. After Wilbanks and Grimshaw’s ill tidings, the earl was primed to expect the worst.

Mathis’s stoic exterior should have given Marcus some reassurance that things were fine, but the butler’s expression never changed. A thief could have a gun trained on him, and the most the older man might do was blink.

And because of his completely unflappable nature, Mathis didn’t say a word about seeing the Earl of Westin with an eye that was an impressive display of mottled blues and purple.

A butler who didn’t feel the need to offer unsolicited commentary on everything … it was a refreshing change.

“Your sister will meet you in the yellow parlor, my lord,” Mathis said.

Without asking the location of the yellow parlor, Marcus headed down the hall. In the months since his sister’s marriage, Olivia’s new home had become as familiar to him as his own.

Marcus paced the length of the room while he waited for his sister to appear. Just when he was seriously beginning to contemplate going and finding her, the door opened.

“Good morning, Marcus,” Olivia said cheerfully.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Marcus asked, taking a few steps toward her.

Olivia’s brow furrowed in confusion as she hugged him. “Nothing,” she answered.

Marcus still wasn’t convinced. “Has something happened?”

“No.” She paused. “Why would you think so?”

“Your letter said to come immediately. It sounded … frantic.”

“I think you probably read too much into my request,” Olivia said with a shrug.

“When your request contains the word urgently, I don’t really have to read into it much.”

“We’re not here to discuss your overly active paranoia,” his sister returned. “Besides, I’m in no mood to argue with you. I need your help,” Olivia said, taking a seat and offering to ring for tea.

After declining the tea service, Marcus relocated to a chair, curious to hear about Olivia’s problem … hopefully, it would distract him from his own. Whatever was wrong with his sister was consuming enough that she had yet to ask him about the injury to his eye.

Not that he minded that omission from the conversation, of course. Olivia would be much too amused by the story. Not to mention when Nick—her husband and Marcus’s best friend—found out, Marcus would be lucky if he ever lived down the humiliation.

“What do you need my help with?”

He was pleased Olivia had come to him for assistance. Since she’d married, she hadn’t seemed to need her older brother anymore. And as someone who had spent his entire adult life caring for his sister, the sudden change after her marriage made Marcus feel a little bereft.

“I’ve a made a list,” Olivia said, digging in the pocket of her skirts and finally producing a folded-up slip of paper.

“A list?” he echoed, taking and unfolding the paper so he could read it.

His sister sat quietly while he scanned down the rather long collection of names.

“What’s this?” he asked finally.

“A list.”

Marcus barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Yes, I think I have a fairly good understanding of what constitutes a list. But all I see on here are names. Would it be too much to ask what the significance of them would be?”

“Those men,” Olivia continued, pointing to the paper, “are eligible bachelors.”

Marcus stared at her, waiting for further explanation.

“They’re for a friend.”

“A friend?” Skepticism oozed in his voice.

Olivia sighed. “It’s a complicated matter, Marcus. And I’m going to need your assistance and discretion. So I’d appreciate it if you would at least try not to be difficult.”

“I hardly think my trying to make sense of your inadequate explanations should classify as being difficult.”

Olivia sighed. “I have a friend who needs a husband.”

Marcus’s cravat tightened, and his mouth was suddenly so parched he wished he’d accepted the tea. He couldn’t dismiss the suspicion that Olivia had more of his involvement in mind than just being a keeper of the list.

Clearing his throat, he scrambled for an easy way to break it to her that he wasn’t going to be eligible bachelor number one. “Olivia … you understand I have quite a bit to focus on right now …” he began, “and I’m not in any place to be considering taking a wife—”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “Do you see your name on the list, Marcus?”

“Well … no … but—”

She waved her hand as though to shut him up. “Then stop being dramatic. I certainly wouldn’t have put you there.”

“And why’s that?” Marcus asked before he could consider the advisability of voicing such a question.

This earned him another look. “I doubt my friend would have you,” she said breezily.

“I’m considered a fairly decent catch by most of the matchmaking mamas.” Marcus couldn’t believe himself or the words coming out of his mouth.