Page 22 of Marriage Most Scandalous
“Anyone I would know?”
“Possibly. Thomas Peermont, Viscount Ridgmore’s son, you might remember.”
“Little Tommy? He was still wearing knickers when I left. He can’t be old enough for you.”
Her back got a little stiffer. “Not that age matters at this point, but he’s only a year younger than I am. And then there’s The Honorable Daniel Courtly, whom you probably don’t know.”
“Courted by a Courtly, how quaint.”
She glared at him, but continued, “He and his mother moved here only two years ago. They bought the old Merryweather cottage on the cliffs after Angus Merryweather moved to London to be closer to his grandchildren.”
“Never heard of him.”
“Didn’t think so.”
“Just the two?”
“Two is quite enough, when I’m not really interested in either of them.”
“So you are determined to be an old maid. Might as well own up to it, Maggie.”
“If you must know, I do plan on going to London to broaden my choices. I just don’t intend to compete with a gaggle of giggling debutantes.”
“How do you intend to avoid that?”
“By attending a few choice parties and proposing to a man who suits me. In another year or two I will feel comfortable doing so.”
He raised a brow. “You aren’t joking, are you?”
“Not a’tall.”
“I think you’ve been on your own too long, Maggie. It’s quite addled your wits.”
She smiled tightly. “My wits are just fine, thank you.”
“Then you haven’t realized that if it gets out, you’ll become a laughingstock?”
“And why would it get out?” she countered. “I assure you, I can be quite circumspect. Nor do I intend to propose to every man I meet.”
“Just one or two, hell, just one is all it will take. Consider. An earl’s daughter proposing marriage. That’s too juicy not to spread around.”
“Unless the fellow takes me up on the offer, then it would be in his best interest to keep his mouth shut, wouldn’t it? You, sir, are much too negative.”
“No. I’ve just learned to view all aspects of a situation. Besides, you’re already going to have one mark against you as a divorced woman,” he pointed out. “Only second sons might overlook that stigma.”
She sighed. “Even if it is, you overlook a prime motive.”
“Your lush body?”
She turned crimson, stood up, and threw her napkin down on top of her desert, which had just arrived. Her footman was blushing, too, and hurrying back out the door. Good God, she couldn’t believe Sebastian had said that, and with a servant in the room to hear it!
“You are, without a doubt, the most despicable man I have ever met. I was referring to the title that will pass to my husband’s son, much more incentive than a—a—”
“Lush body,” he reminded her.
Even more color shot to her cheeks. Without a thought, she picked up her napkin, smeared now with cream and whipped chocolate, and tossed it at his head. Bloody hell, she missed. But at least the chocolate and cream splattered across his forehead, she noticed, on her way out the door.
“Don’t run away mad, Maggie,” he called after her.
