Engaging the Earl

“She seems to think a scholarly gentleman will suit her.”

“I was at the top of my class at Oxford.” Clearly he was out of his mind.

Olivia only stared at him.

“Fine. I’m not on the list … not that I want to be,” he added just in case he hadn’t been clear on that. “So, since I’m not worthy to be there, would you mind telling me what you think I’m going to do with it?”

“You know the gentlemen on that list, right?” she asked.

Marcus nodded.

“How difficult would it be for you to arrange to bring some of them by here to meet my friend while she’s staying with me?” Olivia picked at an invisible piece of something on the skirt of her dress as she asked the question.

He wasn’t going to refuse her. There was little he could refuse his sister. But that didn’t mean Marcus planned to give in easily.

“You want me to round up the men and parade them through the house like a Tattersalls auction?” he asked.

Olivia rolled her eyes. “I don’t want them all here at the same time, Marcus. It would make much better sense for you to bring them by individually.”

He gaped. “There are at least thirty names here.”

“I don’t want Emma to have to settle,” she said as though he were a barbarian for suggesting otherwise.

Emma.

So that was the mysterious friend’s name. He liked it, Marcus decided. Not that it mattered what he thought of the name or even the woman herself. Supposedly, they wouldn’t suit.

“Suppose I decide to help,” he said finally. “Why exactly would I be doing it again?”

Olivia sobered. As she leaned forward, Marcus saw the concern lurking behind the humor in her eyes. “Emma really needs a husband, Marcus. I want to help—and I told her that you would be happy to, as well. You do want to help, don’t you?”

“A damsel in distress?” he muttered.

Olivia nodded, without any trace of irony.

With that, he was sunk—and he could tell Olivia knew it. But before he could say anything, there was a gentle tap at the door.

“Come in,” his sister called out, and Marcus could hear the door behind him open.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” a woman—Emma?—said. “I didn’t realize you had company.” Her voice was pleasant, Marcus noted. Low and sweet, and … oddly familiar.

“No, Emma,” Olivia said, motioning her forward. “You’re fine. Please come sit with us. Marcus and I were just talking about you.” The woman crossed around the room to take a seat beside Olivia, giving Marcus his first look at her. It was a struggle not to let his shock show.

Damsel in distress, indeed, he thought to himself, as he stared at the governess from Cheapside.

So this is Emma. He looked down at the list of names in his hand and frowned. He hadn’t liked being left off the list even before he knew for whom it was intended.

For some reason, he liked it even less now.

Chapter Three

“Maybe I should leave the two of you to your meeting,” Emma said, rising from her seat and preparing to make her escape from the room.

“Not at all,” Mr. Fairfax answered before Olivia had a chance to. His smirk widened.

A red-hot blush stole through Emma’s cheeks, making her feel like the temperature in the room had risen dramatically. “No, truly,” she argued, “I can talk to Olivia later. Right, Olivia?” she asked, looking to her friend for assistance.

Either Olivia was oblivious to Emma’s distress, or she found the situation humorous, because the marchioness didn’t seem willing for her to go.

“Of course you won’t leave. I have to introduce you,” her friend said.

“You really don’t,” Emma muttered. She was sure no one had heard her until she noticed that Mr. Fairfax’s smile had widened impossibly further, and his eyes glinted mischievously.

“Marcus, allow me to introduce my friend, Emma Mercer.” She smiled at Emma, as though to reassure her that Mr. Fairfax wouldn’t bite. “And Emma, this is my brother, Marcus Fairfax, the Earl of Westin.”

Her brother?

An earl?

Emma thought she might throw up.

She had punched an earl in the face … albeit accidentally. Was there any way to slink out of the room and pretend she’d never knocked on the door?

Sadly, it appeared too late for that option.

“There was no need for the introductions, Olivia,” the man said, drawing Emma’s gaze.

Emma hated the fact that he was more handsome than any man had a right to be. And she hated the fact that she’d noticed.

“There isn’t?” Olivia asked. Her look of surprise was almost comical. If Emma had been inclined to find anything about the situation remotely humorous, that was.

Mr. Fairfax—the Earl of Westin, she amended—looked to be enjoying himself far too much. He nodded. “Who do you think gave me the black eye?”

Marcus barely contained his laughter. He wasn’t sure whose expression amused him most. Olivia looked like she might fall out of her seat … either that or injure her neck because she kept whipping it back and forth between Marcus and Miss Mercer.

As for the other lady … Well, Marcus quickly decided that anger only made Miss Emma look even more appealing. Which was fortuitous, he supposed, because she looked mad enough to blacken his other eye. Purposely this time.

“Who … she … you …?” Olivia couldn’t seem to form a complete thought. With each half-uttered word, his sister looked at him and then back at her friend. The gaze leveled at him was slightly accusatory.

Miss Mercer had her hands folded together in her lap, a beatific look on her face as though to suggest she would be the last person capable of doing anyone bodily harm.

Marcus could have made it easy on her. Could have explained to Olivia that the injury was accidental. But he wasn’t in the least inclined to do so and ruin the fun of the moment. Heaven knows, he could use some amusement after the fear and uncertainty that had swamped him for the past few days.

Finally, Olivia settled on a reponse. She turned to look at her friend. “You hit Marcus?” Olivia’s tone was surprised … not censuring.

The young woman looked like she was about to answer, even though Marcus thought it seemed pretty clear that the only thing she wanted to do was pick up her skirts and run from the room. “Well … we … it’s really …”

He was going to be a chivalrous gentleman and rescue her. “Don’t look so surprised, Olivia. I recall you having a violent streak of your own.”