To Pleasure a Lady (Courtship Wars 1)

“True.”

“I intend to do everything in my power to foil you.”

His roguish grin made her breathless as he raised his glass of Madeira. “So let the games begin.”

As he gazed at her over the rim of his glass, Arabella’s heart accelerated in an erratic rhythm. Thankfully, the intimate moment was broken when Marcus took a swallow of wine.

Wincing at the taste, he set his glass aside on a table. “I would never have expected your step-uncle to suffer such inferior quality wine. I will have to rectify that, since I intend to stay here for at least a fortnight. Tomorrow I’ll have some casks delivered from my cellars in London.”

Arabella’s heart sank at the reminder. A fortnight was beginning to seem an interminable length of time. But perhaps she was going about trying to win in all the wrong ways. What if she could simply persuade the earl that he didn’t want to marry her? “You know, my lord-”

“Marcus.”

“Very well, Marcus. I don’t believe you have fully considered what a marriage between us would be like. If you had, you would realize that we wouldn’t suit in the least.”

“Why not?”

“For one thing, I wouldn’t make you a comfortable wife.”

His mouth quirked. “What makes you think I want a comfortable wife?”

“Most noblemen do. You want a lady to bear your heirs and manage your household, and to look the other way when you flaunt your mistresses or engage in various dalliances and indiscretions. I could never be so agreeable, my lord.”

When Marcus remained silently studying her, Arabella went on. “Lady Freemantle told me a great deal about you and your friends. You are all notorious bachelors.” She refrained from adding that her ladyship had a great deal of admiration for the new Earl of Danvers.

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; “My friends?”

“Your fencing partners last week. Those are your close friends, the Duke of Arden and the Marquess of Claybourne?”

“Yes.”

“Well, the stories of your conquests and sporting exploits are repeated in drawing rooms even this far from London. Based on all the tales about you, I can say with utmost confidence that you would not make me a comfortable husband.”

He cocked his head at her. “I doubt you want a comfortable husband, any more than I want a comfortable wife. Somehow I can’t picture a woman of your spirit settling for a milquetoast.”

Arabella gave a soft laugh of exasperation. “That is precisely what I have been trying in vain to make you see. I don’t want any sort of husband!”

“You’ve made that abundantly clear.” Marcus relaxed back against the settee. “But allow me to point out that your appraisal of my character is based on gossip and innuendo.”

“Perhaps. But I have little doubt you are the same ilk as my father.”

“Ah, we begin to get to the crux of the matter.” Stretching out his long legs, Marcus laced his fingers over his stomach. “You take a dim view of rakes.”

Arabella smiled a little bitterly. “Can you blame me? My father was a philanderer of the first order, and I have no intention of subjecting myself to any husband like him.”

“So you condemn me out of hand.”

“Is it really out of hand? How many mistresses do you have in keeping?”

A dark eyebrow rose at her impertinent question. “Is that really any of your affair, darling?”

“It is if you expect me to consider your proposal of marriage.” When he hesitated, Arabella smiled sweetly. “It is a simple question, Marcus. How many mistresses do you have?”

“None at present.”

“But you regularly employ one?”