Chapter Text
The day he met her was as hot as hell, suggesting that London was about to experience one of those stifling summers, devoid of fresh breezes. While working tirelessly in the stables, dressed in simple and dirty clothes, Marcus Fitzgerald, the 10th Marquess of Leicester, faced the challenge of assisting one of his most valuable mares that was about to give birth. The veterinarian he had hired had proven to be useless, and he found himself compelled to intervene.
That's when she appeared, giving orders to the stable hands and criticizing the way he was handling the situation. Marcus was considering uttering some sharp words and sending her away, but as he lifted his gaze, he saw the most stunning woman he had ever encountered.
"Who are you, miss?" he inquired, his voice sounding stern, as he watched the stranger kneeling beside the mare, caressing it tenderly, seemingly ignoring his presence.
"Are you in pain, my dear?" she whispered gently to the animal, showing complete indifference to the audience that had gathered around. Then, she cast him a disdainful look with her beautiful brown eyes. "Would you be so kind as to step away?"
The young lady, whoever she was, was undoubtedly a meddler.
"Could you tell me your name, miss?" He asked, barely able to conceal the impatience that consumed him.
"I am one of the guests at Lady Danbury's residence, Miss Sharma," she replied haughtily, fixing him with arrogance.
Lady Danbury's mansion stood next to his own, and he had a longstanding relationship with the widow's family. He was aware of her plans to host a family from India, who happened to have connections with the Earl of Sheffield.
The information his sister-in-law shared during breakfast a few days ago hadn't particularly piqued Fitzgerald's interest. After all, the Sheffields had lost their influence in society since the scandalous elopement of their youngest daughter with an Indian man without a noble title. Fitzgerald was a man of notable prominence in politics and business, rarely involving himself with families that couldn't add something significant to his world.
However, as his eyes fixed on the young lady before him, who supposedly was the granddaughter of Lord Sheffield, a sudden wave of regret nearly overwhelmed him for not paying more attention to the story his sister-in-law was telling.
"What the devil do you think you're doing here?" he inquired, visibly annoyed that his focus was somehow clouded by the beauty of the young woman. She was undoubtedly stunning, but she remained a debutante, entering a stable in a residence to which she hadn't been invited.
"I heard the mare's distress from Lady Danbury's garden, and I have experience with horses," she replied, standing her ground.
"But you're a woman," he observed, emphasizing the obvious.
"What an astute observation," she retorted, as she massaged the mare's belly. "If my presence here in any way troubles you, I suggest you summon your employer so I can personally explain why I am here and why your job of caring for these animals falls short of expectations." She gave him a challenging look.
Her stableman seemed about to intervene, but a mere look from Marcus made him fall silent.
"This mare is of priceless value. I hope the miss is aware of what she's doing," he conceded, making a point of looking her in the eye as he stepped aside.
Well, it seemed that Miss Sharma was not only stunning but also, as it appeared, quite knowledgeable about horses. She spent the next hour kneeling in the stable, ruining her expensive dress, but the foal was successfully born, and her valuable mare survived.
"No need for thanks," she said, washing her hands at the stable sink, her arrogance unshaken.
He almost felt like revealing his true identity as the Marquess of Leicester and making her understand how foolish it was to invade his property in such a way. Another, less tolerant man might irreparably tarnish her reputation before she even had the chance to debut in high society. Given the scandals surrounding her family, her audacity did indeed seem like an act of reckless imprudence.
However, Marcus decided to postpone his lecture for a more appropriate occasion. There were more valuable lessons to be taught when the two of them would eventually be formally introduced.
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He encountered her for the second time at the Conservatory ball. At first, he had no intention of attending, but somehow, he couldn't get Miss Sharma out of his mind. Curiosity led him to inquire with his sister-in-law, and that's how he learned that the Sharma family had arrived in town just a few days ago.
The Sharma family, he discovered, consisted of two young ladies and their mother; the father had passed away a few years earlier. Now, they had come to London in search of husbands. Fitzgerald, upon meeting Miss Sharma, thought the young woman might face some difficulties in her quest. While her beauty might charm some suitors, her impulsive spirit displayed in the stables was a hint that she might become embroiled in scandals, much like her mother.
The truth was that the young lady couldn't leave his mind, which deeply troubled him. Marcus had never been one to succumb to fits of passion. His position as the Marquess of Leicester had molded him to be the embodiment of prudence. His title traced back to one of England's oldest lineages, his father had maintained a close friendship with King George, and his education had included years of association with the Prince Regent, both at Eton and Oxford.
When he had inherited the title about fifteen years ago, he discovered that his father had been a disastrous administrator, leaving the family in dire financial straits. But this molded him into not just a nobleman but also a skilled businessman. His interest soon turned to the burgeoning industrial development sweeping across England. Currently, his family's fortune was one of the largest in England, allowing him to navigate smoothly between high society and bourgeoisie. He was confident that his current investments in the railway sector would change the country forever.
There was an ongoing vote in the House of Lords to determine land expropriation and the expansion of the railway line into the country's interior. This issue should have occupied all his thoughts, not the beauty of Lady Danbury's protege.
In any case, his presence at the Conservatory ball did absolutely nothing to quell the curiosity he harbored about Miss Sharma. He arrived late, and at the exact moment he glimpsed her, she was practically dragging another young Indian lady out of the ballroom, leaving him perplexed by her behavior. The Sharma family, who, as everyone knew, were being sponsored by the hostess, departed unexpectedly early, and Miss Sharma, her forehead creased with evident displeasure, seemed deeply agitated.
The morning after the ball, his eyes settled on her through the bedroom window as she approached the ancient apple tree that separated Lady Danbury's residence from his own. Seated atop a horse in a manner entirely inappropriate for a lady, dressed in a lilac riding habit, and with her hair flowing in a long braid, its end gently brushing against her waist.
Without a shadow of a doubt, it was a vision worthy of enchantment.
A sight he simply couldn't ignore, prompting him to descend to the garden. When he finally drew near, Miss Sharma was seated with an effortless grace by the tree, savoring a succulent apple.
"I see you have the habit of trespassing on others' properties," he said, arching an eyebrow with a mischievous smile on his lips.
"I was under the impression that this part of the garden belonged to Lady Danbury," she replied in a defensive tone.
"No, the boundaries of her property end before the apple tree," he revealed, pleased with the slightly disgruntled expression on her lovely face.
"Did you come here to evict me?" she inquired boldly, raising her chin in a defiant gesture.
He took a step forward, plucking a ripe apple directly from the tree. "No," he answered sincerely, approaching her. "I'm simply curious to discover where you acquired your horse-handling skills."
Miss Sharma regarded him with a look of uncertainty, as if weighing whether she could share her secrets with him. "My father was the royal secretary in India, and I grew up in the castle, where the King was notorious for his love of horses. I had access to the stables from a very young age," she explained, looking thoughtful. "The King was committed to excellence in horse care and always hired the finest breeders. They didn't mind sharing their knowledge with me."
A captivating laugh escaped her lips, momentarily entrancing him. "I must confess I might be a little intrusive."
"I hadn't noticed," he replied, smiling as well. "You know, you never told me your first name."
"And you never told me your name," she responded, her gaze direct and inquisitive.
"Marcus," he replied, extending his hand in a somewhat daring gesture, keeping his true identity as Lord Leicester a secret.
"Kate," she said, ignoring the outstretched hand. "But please, call me Miss Sharma. It wouldn't be appropriate for you to use my first name."
"Of course, Miss Sharma," he replied with a serious expression. "So, did you enjoy the ball last night?"
"How did you know about the ball last night?" she asked, with a look of confusion that only made her more charming.
"Lady Danbury always hosts the first ball of the season," he replied promptly, preempting any further questioning. "And you are one of her guests."
"Ah, of course," she replied, appearing convinced.
"So, tell me, Miss Sharma, did you enjoy the ball?" He felt an inexplicable desire to understand what had prompted her to leave the party in such haste.
"My sister was quite impressed," she replied, toying with the end of her braid. He wasn't sure what kind of response that was. What did her sister have to do with anything?
"Yes, but what about you?" he pressed.
"I didn't get a chance to taste the food, although the music was pleasant, and the flowers were stunning," she answered with a half-smile.
"But why didn't you have time to savor the food?" he inquired, curious.
"And is this some sort of interrogation?" she retorted, huffing impatiently.
"Call it a conversation, Miss Sharma," he replied, smiling wryly.
"If you truly wish to know, I left the party early. It became evident that I hadn't prepared my sister adequately for the marriage market," she confessed with a tinge of regret in her expression, as if she were failing at something. Her words intrigued Leicester because she seemed to act as if she were responsible for her sister's education, although, as far as he knew, they had a mother, and Kate was still a single woman.
"The marriage market in London is challenging," he spoke, and she raised her face with curiosity, as if questioning what a mere employee would know about it. Marcus felt a twinge of guilt for not having shared his true identity with her. "So they say, but Lady Danbury is a master at navigating these waters. Did someone disrespect your family during the party?"
"No," she replied promptly, running her hand through the back of her head, seeming to internally debate whether she should share details with a stranger. "Not exactly, but I inadvertently overheard some gentlemen on the party terrace speaking extremely disparagingly about the women they intend to marry."
"I see, so you were eavesdropping, then?" Marcus inquired, giving her an amused look as she shot him a stern gaze. He laughed before asking, "What exactly did you hear?"
"Some nobles discussing getting a wife merely to fulfill a role while they enjoy mistresses, and claiming that London debutantes weren't good enough," she replied, looking disgusted.
God, she was naive, and Marcus felt a strong urge to protect her, as it was apparent that, despite her fierceness, she was remarkably romantic.
It was evident that Kate was not prepared for the complexity of the London marriage market and was unaware of the nature of marriages as commercial contracts between families. He wondered about her mother, questioning whether she had been neglectful in not providing her daughter with essential knowledge. On the other hand, perhaps she had filled her daughters' heads with romances and idealizations of true love.
"I'm afraid, Miss Sharma, that most marriages are built on that foundation. Of course, not every husband will have mistresses; some can't even afford to keep them," Marcus spoke.
"So you find this normal?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow with a challenging air.
As he looked at Kate, Marcus reflected on his own marriage, before the tragic death of Helen during childbirth. He had married her because of her family's good name and because she would be a suitable marchioness, which she had indeed been during their five years of marriage. However, Helen had failed to provide him with an heir and died in the attempt. At that time, he had not kept mistresses, mostly because he would feel guilty seeing his wife's suffering in the face of her inability to conceive.
"It's not a matter of what I think; it's a matter of what actually happens. However, I believe you shouldn't worry about it," he added, the words slipping from his lips before he could contain them.
"Why do you say that?" she asked, puzzled, as he searched for the right response. He decided to go with honesty.
"Well," he said, looking at her, "You are undoubtedly the most stunning woman I've had the honor of meeting in my almost forty years of life. I'm sure your future husband will have no desire to keep mistresses."
Kate's eyes widened in astonishment, and Marcus realized, with a twinge of conscience, that he might have crossed the boundaries of decorum with his comment. After all, she was a young unmarried lady, and here she was, alone with a stranger who had just complimented her on her beauty.
"It's getting late," she finally murmured, fiddling with her gloves. "If I linger any longer, they'll surely notice my absence at home. Have a good day, sir," she bid farewell before mounting her horse and disappearing from his sight.
Well done, Marcus,he thought to himself. Now, she'll probably never speak to you again.
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She discovered his true identity at the Queen's Diamond Ball, after her sister was declared the Diamond of the season. At that opulent event, he spotted her standing at the edge of the dance floor, absolutely lovely in her silver gown. Her hair was elegantly styled, adorned with jewels that made her look regal. It was hard to look away from her radiant beauty. If he didn't know her family's history, he would swear she was a part of Indian royalty, rather than the daughter of a clerk and the granddaughter of a ruined earl.
Observing her from a distance, Fitzgerald witnessed her excitement when her sister was named the Queen's Diamond. However, over the course of the night, her enthusiasm seemed to gradually wane, until he saw her dragging her sister across the ballroom for the second time. He believed they would leave early once again, which would be a great disrespect to the Queen. However, they returned shortly, probably after a brief break in the debutantes' resting room. Kate's happy smile had already vanished, replaced by visible irritation, when Lady Danbury introduced her to the guests.
When the widow approached his group, which consisted of him, his brother, and his sister-in-law, Marcus tensed, and it took Kate a few seconds to realize that he was the man she had met in the stables.
"Allow me to introduce my protegée," Lady Danbury announced to the group. "Lord Leicester, Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald, this is Miss Kate Sharma."
He bowed and kissed her hand over her glove. Kate pretended not to know him, although her eyes shot furious glances in his direction. Marcus considered inviting her to dance, but she seemed so overwhelmed that he feared she might cause a scandal in the middle of the ballroom if he dared to make the request.
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"You lied to me," she accused him the next morning when she appeared in her garden, wearing an awkward petrol-blue dress. Her hair was entirely pinned up, and he wondered if the choice of clothing and hairstyle was a desperate attempt to conceal her own stunning beauty, so her sister wouldn't be overshadowed by her.
The previous night, he had noticed that her interest was entirely focused on her sister, as if she had no desire to partake in the season. It did not escape his attention that last night she did not possess a dance card, did not bestow encouraging smiles upon suitors, and instead dedicated all her time to observing her sister.
He wished he could tell her that her efforts were in vain, that her beauty remained undeniable even in a questionable dress. However, she seemed furious that morning, and he chose to hold his words.
"I never lied to you, Miss," he replied calmly.
"You made me believe you were just a servant. I acted recklessly, made unpleasant comments about your colleagues," she exclaimed, indignant.
"On that first day, my intention was not to embarrass you. You seemed so self-assured, bossing me around to speak to the owner," he shrugged as she wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Plus, I admit I enjoyed your company, and it's refreshing to find someone genuine in the midst of this society."
"Ah, what a relief to know I served the purpose of distracting you," she replied with a touch of irony before turning and walking away, leaving him behind with a strange sense of loss.
"Wait," he spoke, reluctant to confront the reason behind the pleading tone in his voice. "You know, I might be of some help."
"Help me with what, precisely, my lord?" She asked, raising her eyebrows in an adorable manner.
"I know London society like the back of my hand. I know what most gentlemen seek in a marriage. You claim you don't want to marry for convenience, and I can point out the men who long for something deeper in a union."
"You misunderstood, I have no intention of marrying," she replied, surprising him. What did all of this mean if she didn't aspire to matrimony? And what was her plan for the future? As far as he knew, her family didn't have the means to support her in an independent life without a husband. "My sole aim is to ensure my sister finds a husband who values her as she deserves."
And there she was, mentioning her sister once again. Now he understood that her stance at the ball was an attempt to remain in the shadows so her sister could shine. He wondered why she did this and why her mother didn't take action.
Damn it, he wished to ask, longed to know, felt an urgent need to unravel the woman before him, or he would go mad.
"And what about you?" he inquired, unable to contain his curiosity.
"Not that it's any of your business, but I plan to return to India once she's married. I'll be a governess," she revealed, in a firm tone.
He laughed, noticing the disapproving expression forming on her face. But honestly, he couldn't believe she was serious.
"Did I say something funny?" she asked, visibly annoyed.
He looked at her with seriousness. "Is your mother planning to leave your sister alone in England?" he asked.
"Of course not," she replied, now confused about his line of reasoning.
"So, are you telling me that your plan involves boarding a ship alone, enduring months of travel, to live far away from your family? In a place where any request for help will take six months to be heard and another six months to be met?" he asked, utterly incredulous at the folly of her plan.
"I can manage perfectly well on my own," she retorted, with a hint of anger in her voice.
Good Lord, what had happened to that girl? Suddenly, a wave of indignation grew inside him towards her family. He barely knew the other two women, but it was obvious that there was an imbalance in family relationships. No one seemed to be looking out for her, and he wondered how long this had been going on.
"I don't doubt that," he replied, choosing his words carefully, although his true desire was to express his concern more forcefully. "Nevertheless, I can still be of assistance when it comes to your sister's suitors."
"And why would you do that? What's your interest in it?" She asked suspiciously, trying to understand his true motivations.
"I promise you, no personal interest," he assured her.
"You know, Lord Leicester," she began, pronouncing his title with a touch of disdain, "they say you don't do anything without some hidden agenda. Your political machinations are famous; they call you 'the dealmaker' and claim you have few scruples in business."
Well, the young woman was surprisingly bold, bringing up the rumors circulating about him with such frankness. Not that he was unaware of those rumors.
"That's because the nobility fears progress," he replied, remaining calm. "They fear what the industrialists can achieve when they amass more wealth than them, leaving behind the trivialities that occupy them."
"You, it seems, navigate easily between these two worlds, the nobility and the nouveaux riches," she teased, and for the first time, he saw a spark of interest in her eyes, as if she was starting to find his character intriguing.
"I'd say that's one of my best qualities," he smiled at her. "Furthermore, I'm skilled at reading people." There was an exception to this skill, which he didn't mention, and that was her. "That's why I can offer you help. Besides, we could consider that my interest is in seeing Lady Danbury successful with her protégées, which, by the way, could secure me her son's support in Parliament."
It wasn't exactly a lie; Lord Danbury's support was indeed important to him, even though he already had it. After all, the two of them were neighbors and friends. However, there was no need to share these details with her.
"And how would this work?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him. "You surely know we cannot meet in this garden. People might talk, and it could negatively affect my sister's reputation."
Once again, her sister was at the forefront of her concerns. He wondered who had made her believe that her own importance came second.
"My brother and sister-in-law are spending the season at my house," he explained. His sister-in-law, Alice, was avid for news, and if anyone could extract information from Miss Sharma, it would be the talkative Mrs. Fitzgerald. "I will ask her to write to Danbury House and invite you for tea. From there, I can provide you with a valuable list of noble members who align with what you want for your sister."
"I am heading to the horse races later; so it can't be today," she said.
He smiled, pleased that she had agreed. "I will make sure Alice invites you for tea tomorrow. Besides, I will be attending the races as well," he assured her.
"It seems like all of London is caught up in it," she grumbled, seemingly annoyed.
"I thought it might be something you would enjoy. Am I mistaken?" he asked, curious.
"I would certainly be excited if I were allowed to cheer and bet," she replied, a hint of frustration in her voice.
"And on which horse would you bet?" he inquired.
"High Flyer, of course," she replied as if it were the obvious choice, even though Nectar was the absolute favorite among the bettors.
"High Flyer, you say," he mused, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "We'll see if your choice proves to be correct."
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She was right. A smile lit up his face as his friends congratulated him on the win. He had placed his bet on the horse she had suggested as the winner.
However, something troubled him during the races. When she arrived with Lady Danbury, he didn't intend to approach. He wasn't sure if she would want his company in public.
Unfortunately, Sir Dorset, the friendly doctor and the second son of Baron Dorsey, showed no concern about the possibility of rejection and invited her to accompany him to the races. The smile she opened at that moment broke his heart.
It was a shy and sweet smile, as if she was genuinely delighted at the prospect of being chosen. Increasingly, he was convinced that the apparent toughness she tried to display were walls built to keep everyone at a distance, to stay in the shadows and go unnoticed. As if it were possible for a woman like her to go unnoticed.
He was in a tent with the Prince Regent and other influential members of Parliament, seizing the opportunity to influence their minds on the upcoming crucial vote. However, his eyes constantly wandered in the direction where she was.
Marcus noticed when Lord Bridgerton approached the Sharma sisters and their companions. He saw the evident displeasure on Kate's face with his arrival. For someone who usually kept her emotions in check, she was surprisingly transparent.
Something deeply troubled him during the races, and it wasn't just the fact that Sir Dorset had approached her. It was the way Kate interacted with Lord Bridgerton. The Viscount was in search of a wife for that season, and after the Diamond Ball, it became clear that he intended to do so with the queen's chosen debutante. So, why on earth was his hand, ungloved, resting on Kate's back?
He looked at Lady Danbury to see if she would do something about it, but she seemed engrossed in a conversation with Lady Bridgerton.
Not long after that, Kate and Lord Bridgerton started shouting and cheering during the race's final stretch. She appeared genuinely excited, and Marcus would be lying if he said it didn't leave him feeling puzzled and somewhat perplexed.
However, his attention had to return to his associates. When he tried to locate her again, she had disappeared.
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"What did he do?" He angrily placed the whiskey glass on the table, causing some of the liquid to spill onto the documents.
She was in his office, her lady's maid waiting outside, and the door wasn't completely closed. He had confidence in his servants and knew that Lady Danbury's staff was loyal to their mistress. However, he wanted to avoid any gossip about Miss Sharma's presence in his house.
But he couldn't contain his exasperated voice upon hearing the story she had just told.
He asked Sir Dorset to pretend to be interested in me to distract me while he courted my sister," she repeated, expressing her frustration. "They pretended not to know each other, but at the end of the day, Sir Dorset let slip that he had studied with him at Oxford."
"Did you share this with your family? Lady Danbury will surely take steps to keep him away."
"Well, the problem is not that," she began with a worried expression. "I talked to all of them: my mother, Lady Danbury, Edwina. However, my sister seems delighted with the gesture, with the fact that he made such an effort to win her over." She sighed in frustration. "Since I heard him speak outside Lady Danbury's ball, I've done everything to keep him away from her."
"He's one of those men you overheard on the terrace at the ball in the conservatory?" he asked, trying to grasp the situation.
"Yes! And I told them he had no intention of marrying for love. I heard him list the requirements he expects from a wife, and frankly, they were repulsive. Still, they don't listen to me."
He was frustrated with the situation and the family's indifference. After all, how self-centered could her sister be to consider Lord Bridgerton's gesture romantic?
"I can talk to Lady Danbury and try to get Lord Bridgerton's attention on this matter. Even though you don't have male relatives, I'm close enough to Lady Danbury's family to have a word with him," he offered.
"I don't need you to defend me," she replied with irritation.
"Surely you agree there should be consequences for his actions," Marcus responded, his own annoyance showing. "He can't treat you this way and continue to enjoy your family's favor, with access to your home."
"The house is not mine; I am just a guest," her tone was sharp. "And he won't have access anymore; Lady Danbury is organizing a soirée, and he won't be invited."
It wasn't the ideal solution, Marcus thought. He wished to reprimand Bridgerton and Dosert, but at least Lady Danbury had the good sense not to allow the man into her house after the incident.
The image of the sweet smile she had given to Sir Dorset wouldn't leave Marcus's mind. She'd gladly kill both men for making a fool of her.
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Normally, he would have declined the invitation to a soirée and sent his brother and sister-in-law in his place. He had no interest in debutantes. Not that he didn't intend to marry again, after all, he needed an heir, but for a man like him, marriage was a deal, a contract that should be advantageous to both parties. He would act the same way as in his first marriage, choosing a lady whose father had political influence.
Everything would be discussed behind closed doors, without the need to court a debutante. Besides, he was already thirty-eight, and even though his physical strength surpassed that of many younger nobles, given that he had always been involved in manual labor while in the countryside, he no longer felt inclined to choose a young woman who had just entered adulthood.
Alice informed him that Kate had recently celebrated her twenty-sixth birthday. They still had a significant age difference, but nothing excessively odd. He was aware that he was considered an attractive man by women and had never had trouble with them.
Not that it mattered because he had no intention of marrying Miss Sharma, no matter how beautiful she might be. Her temperament was challenging, and Lord Sheffield lacked the political influence to justify a union between their families.
It was no use that he couldn't stop thinking about her. It didn't matter that she looked absolutely stunning that night in a dark green, almost black, dress, which revealed her audacity in choosing such a dark color. Certainly another attempt to try to remain in the shadows, dressing as if she were a married woman.
He wished he could tell her she was doing a terrible job because she looked absolutely stunning that night.
Everything seemed to be going well at the soirée until Lord Bridgerton interrupted the event at the end, in a pathetic attempt to impress Miss Edwina.
It was embarrassing to watch the man's lamentable attempt to recite a poem. However, what did not go unnoticed was the way he looked at Kate before throwing the paper into the fire, as if he couldn't continue to lie about his feelings in front of her gaze.
Fitzgerald understood to some extent that her gaze might be intimidating, but something about Lord Bridgerton's demeanor displeased him. Miss Sharma's sister seemed like an impressionable fool. Honestly, he didn't understand why the man had chosen such unflattering words for the debutante. After all, what young woman would want to hear that she was just a duty? Surprisingly, Miss Edwina found it charming, which made Marcus like the young lady even less.
Kate was so disturbed by the scene that she practically fled the room, and he had to restrain himself from running after her. When she returned, he tried to approach her, but she now wore a facade of a proper lady, and Bridgerton continued to cast glances at her over Miss Edwina's shoulder. What was wrong with that man?
"Are you alright?" He whispered to her in one of the rare moments when they were alone.
"Fine," she replied with a smile, but it was a fake smile. He knew her genuine smiles well, and this wasn't one of them.
"I don't believe that's true," he said, taking a sip of his drink. "He was a complete idiot to crash the soirée after what happened at the races."
"Yes," she agreed, lowering her head as if trying to hide the pain in her eyes. "He brought a horse for her. Edwina doesn't even like horses. He doesn't know her at all. He gave a foolish speech about duty, and yet she's charmed."
"I could still hold him accountable for what he did at the races," he declared, struggling against the desire to pull her into his arms and hold her.
"I don't think that will help, maybe it will only draw more attention, and he might find a way to turn the situation to his advantage," she replied, frustrated. "My sister is smart and will eventually realize who he truly is."
Marcus doubted that the foolish young lady who looked at Lord Bridgerton as if he had hung the moon and couldn't see the wandering glances he gave her sister could be considered intelligent.
That night, as Marcus went to sleep, something haunted him. It wasn't just the fact that Lord Bridgerton had been looking at Kate throughout the entire party, nor the fact that he couldn't finish the poem after gazing at her, or even his interest in her conversations with others during the night. It was the look they exchanged before she hastily left the room. It was a long and painful look, one that reminded him of Lord Bridgerton's hand on Kate's back during the races.
He could bet his entire fortune that Lord Bridgerton desired Kate; the question was whether she was interested in the Viscount as well.
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