How to Marry a Marquess (Wedded by Scandal 3)

A bewildering mix of anger, desperation, and rebellion wormed its way into her heart. Evie hurried from the parlor, almost running down the hall and up the stairs to her chambers. She went to her writing desk situated by the windows, opened the bottom drawer, and withdrew a sketchbook and several newspaper clippings. She sank into the plush and well-padded chair and flicked opened the sketchbook. The first image was gripping and stark in its details of men on the frontlines of war, positioned with their bayonets, and others crouched in ditches. Though drawn in charcoal, the fears and hopes on the soldiers’ faces were undeniable.

Richard had drawn so many images for her, all beautifully detailed, though some were heartbreaking. But he had done the sketches to capture the places he had been in the war, and even other remarkable places like Vienna, Brussels, and Paris, where his drawings so wonderfully captured the people and their cultures.

The newspaper clippings were of the various eloquent and well-argued articles he had written championing for so many poverty-stricken women and children and the invalided soldiers. He had deepened her admiration as he had been so steadfast in the face of such marginalization from high society, and the love she possessed for him would never abate, even if she wed another.

With a deep sigh, she put them back and sat on the edge of her windowsill. She rested her chin on her upraised knees. How could she consent to marry another when Richard currently occupied all the space there was in her heart? How could she kiss another when it was his lips she dreamed about, his touch she hungered for? How could she selfishly marry a gentleman for his monetary worth, without possessing an ounce of regard for the man? The viscount was charming when it suited him, and he was most assuredly handsome, but the only sentiment he stirred within Evie was friendship. A well-connected marriage would indeed be beneficial to her family, but she could not possibly consign herself to a man she had no love for.

She wondered if she should just ask Richard outright to marry her. Evie chuckled, quite able to imagine how appalled he would be at the mere notion. Her path was clear—she had to seduce Richard, bewitch his heart and soul as he’d done hers. Evie’s breath hitched at her singularly scandalous, improper, and undutiful thoughts.

There was no help for it. She had to be decisive, bold, and dear Lord…rebellious.

Chapter Five

The carriage rattled with speed toward the heart of London. Evie shifted the small curtain and peered out the coach window into the gray-amber morning. She had ordered the carriage early with the intention of visiting the lending library to return a few books. She’d had a restless night, and had spent hours tossing, unable to find another way to help her papa out of the mess they were in, without marrying. They had to retrench, and it grieved her heart she could not cancel the several hats, laces, day dresses, and ball gowns she had ordered last week. If they were to cancel any items, it would be a signal of their precarious finances and the creditors would be knocking at their door before a solution was found.

“We have to return home before noon, Lady Evie, before your mother wakes,” Miss Rogers, her lady’s maid said. “The countess will be displeased to find us gone and no one to attend her.”

Evie nodded. She and Mamma had been sharing a lady’s maid for the past few months, though Mamma monopolized most of Miss Rogers’ time. She only saw to Evie’s hair an

d dressing whenever she headed out. Luckily Mamma always slept late whenever she attended a ball the night before. “You may return without me after we’ve visited the library. Please inform Mamma I’ve paid a call upon the Duchess of Wolverton. Her Grace will be kind enough to see me home in time for supper.”

Miss Rogers nodded and settled herself more comfortably against the squabs. Evie would indeed pay a call upon Adel. She wanted a few hours away from her mother’s pressure to accept Lord Ponsby’s more than generous marriage offer, so she could marshal her thoughts to a clear order. Perhaps she would allow her friend to talk her out of the rash plans that had been swirling in her head since last night, namely her intention to call upon Richard before returning home.

He mixes with undesirables…thugs…thieves.

“Have you heard report of the man some call the Saint, Miss Rogers, and the areas he frequents?”

Her lady’s maid’s eyes widened with speculation and Evie flushed.

“Is that why you’re dressed as you are, my lady?” she asked with a pointed glare at Evie’s attire.

Instinctively, Evie patted her head to ensure her hat was on firmly. She wore a light blue dress, a black Spencer jacket, and the hat with a veil. She’d had the notion to prevail upon Richard at his home, and her identity had to be protected. While she was discovering her reckless heart, Evie hoped she wasn’t foolish. Her veil and simple manner of dressing would see her protected from the avid scrutiny of anyone watching the coming and goings of his townhouse. “I am simply curious. If you are discomfited, I understand.”

Miss Rogers’s nose wrinkled and amusement lurked in the depth of her brown eyes. “I’ve heard of the marquess, my lady. They say he was able to use his influence and rescue Mrs. Trent’s son from the gallows only last month.”

From the gallows? “And who is Mrs. Trent?”

“She is a widow in Lambeth. Since her husband’s death, it has been hard to survive.”

“And her son’s crime?”

“He stole a pocket watch from a gentleman. It was valued at thirty guineas.” Admiration lit Miss Rogers’s eyes. “My uncle said little Tommy was to be transported, but the marquess visited the magistrate in the dead of night, and all was settled. No one knows what he did, my lady, but little Tommy was freed. And Mrs. Trent was provided for generously.”

“I see,” Evie said with quiet contemplation. “Very generous of the marquess.”

“Indeed, my lady, we were very glad when we heard the news. Genteel folks don’t normally care about us.”

“Do you know the family, Miss Rogers?”

“I do, Lady Evie, they are my neighbors.”

I see. The carriage jerked to a stop, and Evie opened the blinds. “Why have we stopped?”

Miss Rogers opened the small window and enquired of the coachman. She drew back the curtain and settled against the squabs. “There seems to be an accident, my lady, and there is traffic. John says he will divert and we’ll be at the library shortly.”

Evie nodded and heaved a sigh of relief as the carriage once again jolted into motion. “I hope no one was hurt,” she murmured, picking up the book she had been reading earlier.

A loud commotion had Evie opening the blinds once more. She peered outside, frowning, unfamiliar with the streets they traveled on. She leaned forward, pressing her face to the carriage window as she spied a man taking his fist to a small boy. Her breath hitched as those walking along the cobbled street kept about their business. Acting on an instinct she was sure to regret, she used her parasol and rapped the roof of the carriage.