Who Will Take This Man?

a grimace, inexplicably tweaking his pride.

“How amusing you are, my lord. I can hardly be considered unmarriageable, as, since I’ve no desire to ever marry, I was never considered marriageable.” Her tone was light, but sounded forced. And what was that look that had flashed in her eyes? Fear? Sadness? His curiosity about her doubled. Why would she not want to marry? Bah, probably no man would have the dictatorial piece. But the instant the thought entered his mind, he rejected it. Surely there was some man, somewhere, who wouldn’t find her autocratic ways completely off-putting. And as he was coming to learn, she wasn’t autocratic all the time.

Had she given her heart to someone who did not return her feelings? Or did she, even now, love a man who either would not or could not marry her?

The thought filled him with an unpleasant sensation that felt suspiciously like jealousy. “I thought most women wanted nothing more than to marry.”

“I am not most women, Lord Greybourne. ”

No, she was not most women, a fact that increasingly intrigued him far more than it should.

Lifting her chin, she said in a brisk tone, “Besides, a woman such as myself would never do for a man like you.”

“A woman such as yourself? Meaning what, exactly?”

Color crept into her pale cheeks. “I meant a woman not of the peerage. You are a viscount, the heir to an earldom. You must marry a woman from your social class.”

He stared at her intently, wishing he could read her thoughts, for although her explanation made perfect sense, he strongly suspected that she had let something slip, had revealed something she had not meant to. A woman such as myself…

“Yes, I suppose you are correct. But until I am free of this curse, not to mention this unfortunate bit of gossip, I cannot imagine any woman being eager to marry me.”

“You can dispel the gossip very easily, my lord. Simply take a mistress, and be certain to be seen with her. At the opera, the theater.”

It was, of course, an excellent suggestion. Taking a mistress, combined with a bit of well-timed lack of discretion-not difficult, given his already tarnished reputation-would put to bed any doubts regarding his ability to perform. However, the fact that she so calmly suggested it, in that dispassionate voice, coupled with the fact that he had absolutely no desire to take a mistress, annoyed him. Why didn’t the idea appeal to him? He’d been celibate for months. Perhaps there was something wrong with him.

But one look at Miss Chilton-Grizedale heated his blood in a way that he recognized all too well. No, there was nothing wrong with him-aside from this inexplicable desire for the wrong woman.

“I shall consider your suggestion regarding a mistress,” he said coolly. “But that still leaves us with the problem of the curse and locating this ‘unmarriageable’ woman you suggested.”

She pursed her lips and frowned. “Upon consideration, I think focusing on an ‘unmarriageable’ woman might not be in our best interest. We could achieve the same goals of marrying you off and restoring my reputation by pursuing a highly marriageable woman. Therefore, I think it wiser to concentrate on a proper young woman, one very much like Lady Sarah.”

“Rather like beauty and the beast,” he murmured.

She stiffened. “I shall do my utmost to find you a wife who is beautiful, my lord.”

He stared at her for several seconds, then said carefully, “I meant that I am the beast, Miss Chilton-Grizedale.” His heart leapt in a way it most certainly should not have at the notion that she did not consider him a beast. That perhaps she found him attractive, as he increasingly found her.

Crimson stained her cheeks. “Y-yes, of course. But naturally I shall concentrate my endeavors on women I think you’ll find attractive. In fact…” Her voice trailed off, and, nodding to herself, she began pacing. He tracked her progress, his gaze alternating between her furrowed brow and pursed lips. Each time she moved past him, he caught an elusive whiff of her scrumptious scent, a fragrance that all but set him to salivating. And those pursed lips… He drew in a long, careful breath. Those lips looked puckered as if to offer him a kiss, an offer he knew he would never refuse.

Suddenly she halted and faced him, her eyes bright, her frown vanished. “I believe I have a plan, my lord.”

“Pray, do not keep me in suspense, Miss Chilton-Grizedale.”

“In spite of the fact that this curse renders you-at least temporarily-unmarriageable, I think it will also provoke a great deal of interest and curiosity about you. We must make that work to our advantage. With all these rumors flying about, we shall toss a few of our own choosing into the mix. We’ll make it known that it is merely a matter of time before the curse is broken, and in the meanwhile, through the hosting of an exclusive soiree-perhaps a dinner party-I shall find you a wife. Cursed as you may be, with the imminent promise of no longer being cursed, marriage-minded mamas will be unwilling to allow the heir to an earldom slip through their fingers.”

“And if I cannot-”

Reaching out, she touched her fingers to his lips, effectively cutting off his words, and his very breath. Shaking her head, she whispered, “Don’t say it. You will. You must. For your integrity and to keep your promise to your father before his health further fails, and for the sake of my livelihood and reputation.”

He wanted to tell her that it was a very real possibility that he would never find the missing piece of stone, never be able to solve the curse, would never be able to marry. But to do so would have required him to move, something completely beyond him at the moment. And movement might have dislodged her fingers from his lips, something he was most reluctant to do. The touch of her fingers against his lips simultaneously paralyzed him and sizzled a bolt of heat through him.

He wasn’t certain what reaction must have shown on his face, because her eyes widened and her lips formed an O of surprise. She snatched her hand away as if he’d bitten her, then retreated two hasty steps.

“I beg your pardon, my lord.”

His lips tingled from her touch, and it required a great deal of will not to run his tongue over his bottom lip to taste the spot she’d just touched. He moved his hand in a dismissive gesture-only to discover that his hand was not quite steady.

“No harm done,” he said lightly.“ ‘Tis better not to vocalize some things.” Like the fact that I find you fascinating. Intriguing. That I like the way you speak your mind and present your ideas in a clear, concise, nonconvoluted way. That you affect me in a way that I find very unsettling. And that I would like to know much more about you.

No, it was definitely better that he not vocalize such things.

Clearing his throat, he said, “I believe your plan is sound. As I know next to nothing about planning soirees, I think it might be wise to enlist my sister Catherine’s help. She is scheduled to arrive in London this afternoon.”

“An excellent suggestion, my lord. An invitation from Lady Bickley would most certainly be looked upon with more favor than one coming from me. Do you think she would be willing to act as hostess?”

“I’m certain she would be happy to do anything at all to help. I’ll send a note, inviting her to dinner this evening to discuss the details… if you are free to join us?”

“Yes, thank you. The sooner we put our plan into action, the better.”

Pulling his watch fob from his pocket, he checked the time. “Since it already grows late, and as I must send off the invitation to Catherine, then speak with my father to tell him the latest developments, I suggest we finish our respective crates, then depart.”

She nodded her agreement, then returned to her work area. Philip forced himself to do the same. But, unable to stop himself, he turned his back to her, then rubbed his index finger over his lips where she’d touched him.

She was coming to his home. This evening. The very thought made his heart pound in a way that it most certainly should not. But there was no ignoring the fact that it did. The question was, what did he plan to do about it?

Albert closed the door to Miss Merrie’s house with more force than he’d intended. Muttering darkly under his breath, he limped across the foyer and dropped the missive that had just been delivered onto the salver resting on the mahogany table-along with the dozen other messages already there.

“Was that another one?” came Charlotte’s soft-spoken voice behind him.

He froze, and his heart skipped several beats. Damn it all, he had to stop reacting this way every time they