Marquess of Menace (Lords of Scandal 10)

She shook her head. “I allowed my temper to get the better of me. Didn’t I?”

“Perhaps,” Emily said. “But that’s only because you care. Talk to him again. But decide what you want first. Do you truly want to venture off to America alone? Because we own a shipping company now. You can go whenever you wish. But perhaps you and your husband could go together. Learn the business. Build up his title and our business. Together.”

Eliza looked about at her sisters. She’d taken on a great deal of responsibility but not alone. They had been behind her from the first. Guiding and helping. It was Isabella who had lifted them out of poverty and landed them here.

Did Dylan have a family like this? From what she’d heard, the answer was definitely no. They’d torn him down rather than building him up.

What he needed was a family like hers. People that would supp

ort him. Help him see the clear path when his mind was clouded. Just like she had with her sisters. How many mistakes might she have made without the three of them? And Dylan needed to understand that. It was support he was lacking not judgment.

And what did she need? She’d always thought she wanted her independence but today... Today she’d come to a different answer…

The question was: Had she ruined her one chance with Dylan?

Dylan sat on a fluffy, pink chair as a long-haired white cat hissed at his feet.

He hated being here, hated that he had to do this.

Now that he thought about it, Eliza was not perfect. In fact, she was damned annoying. He’d helped her with her mystery, but his bride search? She’d turned him down and offered only Carmella as a possible candidate. She wasn’t holding up her end of the bargain.

He swiped at the back of his neck. He should march right back to the Duke of Devonhall’s and demand she give him more names and then he’d kiss her senseless. His teeth clenched. He’d been the one to end that kiss. Not her.

The damned cat took a swipe at his boot, leaving a long scratch mark in the dark leather.

That was going to take forever to buff out.

“Isn’t she just a doll?” Carmella gushed from a matching pink chair as she reached down and picked up the offensive animal.

“A doll,” he replied dryly, his eyes casting up at the ceiling. Perhaps this hadn’t been the best choice.

He’d been so irritated with Eliza and her swift departure that he’d left Bash’s house, went home, changed, and then travelled straight to Carmella’s. Where he was now ensconced in pink décor that was accented by white cat hair.

Carmella lifted the fluffball up to her face and buried her nose in the animal’s fur. The thing hissed again, but Carmella ignored the sound, giggling as she cooed words of love into the cat’s hair.

Dylan blinked as he attempted to picture this future. His house bathed in pink as cats swirled about his feet.

And his wife barely paying attention to him as she heaped affection on her pets.

He’d rather have his spouse off in America.

He let out a sigh of frustration. His gut clenched. He’d rather have Eliza.

Carmella was…not for him.

But Eliza had rejected him, and he wasn’t here because he’d ever had an affection for Carmella. He was here to save his marquisate.

It was just…that he thought he might rather sink into a hole than live this life.

His parents had never given him credit for a single thing done right. Even when he’d saved a farmer’s horse, they’d chastised him for getting dirty. A marquess’s son must always be ready to present a pristine and cultured façade. Who cared about a filthy animal?

This was his chance to prove he was more valuable than any of them.

And yet…

He sat straighter. Could he do it without a Carmella?

He’d been slowly digging himself out of debt. But some of his creditors were growing restless.