Page 28 of Marquess of Stone

“Really, Elias, you are beginning to sound like one of the matchmaking mamas.”

“And you, my friend, are rather beginning to act like one of their eager targets. Look, Nicholas, I know you. And I know my sister-in-law. She is not the type for… games. Not yours.”

The word ‘games’ landed like a physical blow. Nicholas straightened his spine, years of friendship suddenly warring with a surge of indignation. “You think I am toying with her?”

The fire crackled in the hearth, throwing shadows that seemed to dance with all the things left unsaid. Elias met Nicholas’ gaze steadily, and Nicholas saw in his friend’s eyes not judgement but concern.

“Not intentionally, I think,” Elias said finally, each word measured. “But intentions do not always matter, do they? You are not serious about pursuing her, Nicholas, and she is not someone you can afford to be careless with.”

“You speak as thought I am some callow youth unable to manage his passions,” Nicholas snapped, an edge of warning creeping into his voice.

“No, I speak as someone who knows exactly how capable you are of managing your… affairs,” Elias countered. “It is the hearts involved that concern me.”

“Hearts?” Nicholas barked out a laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Rather presumptuous, don’t you think?”

“Is it? Then why, pray tell, do you look like a man who has just realized he is standing on quicksand?”

Nicholas stood abruptly, pacing to the window. “Your imagination rivals your sister-in-law’s novel collection.”

“And your denial rivals the Thames in depth,” Elias replied dryly. “Though I notice you have yet to deny any of my accusations.”

The truth in those words settled over Nicholas like a winter’s frost, chilling the warmth of the brandy in his veins. Unbidden and unwanted, images flashed through his mind — Marian’s eyes sparkling with intelligence as she discussed the writing of Mary Wollstonecraft, her quiet laugh as she climbed the orange tree with him, the way the sunlight had painted her face in shades of gold, and the look of serenity that had settled onto her features as they stood on the cliff’s edge. Each memory a small betrayal of his supposed casual interest.

“Nicholas, please do not use my family members for your… entertainment.” Elias’s voice held an edge of warning.

“Do you truly believe I would sink that low?” Nicholas asked, unable to mask his hurt at his friend’s statement.

“Not intentionally, no.” Elias’ glare softened slightly. “You are not your father, Nicholas, I am well aware, but your intentions, however noble they may be, are not serious. We both know this. Perhaps it would be better to maintain some distance before anyone’s heart becomes too… invested.”

The words struck home with uncomfortable precision. Nicholas stared into his glass, seeing the truth of his friend’s observation reflected in the amber liquid. He had been careless, allowing himself to be drawn into Marian’s orbit without properly considering the consequences. The realization settled over him with a heavy weight — Elias was right.

“Maybe you are correct,” he said at last, his voice quieter than intended. The admission tasted bitter on his tongue. “Perhaps I should… keep my distance.”

“Will you, truly?” Elias’ tone was gentler now, almost sympathetic. “Canyou?”

Nicholas turned from the window, his expression carefully neutral. “It seems I have little choice.”

“There is always a choice, Nicholas. The question is whether you are brave enough to make the right one.”

“It rather seems… the bigger question is what the right choice might be in this circumstance.”

“That depends entirely on whether you are actually being honest with yourself about what it is you want.”

“What I want,” Nicholas said slowly, “has rarely aligned with what is expected.”

“Ah,” Elias smiled faintly, “now it seems we are getting somewhere.”

Nicholas breathed deeply, sighing into his brandy glass. “Perhaps you are right. Perhaps it is best for all concerned if I keep my distance from Lady Marian.”

Elias nodded though something in his expression suggested he had seen more than Nicholas had meant to reveal. “For her sake, I do hope you mean that.”

Nicholas stared into the depths of his glass where the brandy caught and fractured the light. He was accustomed to being the rake, the charming nobleman whose flirtations were as meaningless as they were entertaining. It was a role he had perfected over years of social navigation, a comfortable mask that he had used to protect both himself and others from anything deeper.

But Marian Brandon had slipped past those defenses somehow with her fierce intelligence and carefully hidden vulnerability. She had made him forget his role, forget himself, until Elias’ warning had brought him crashing back to reality.

Distance, he told himself firmly. It was the only honorable course. After all, what could he offer her beyond momentary diversion? His life was ordered, predictable, built on the solid foundation of duty and responsibility that he had constructed from the ruins of his father’s legacy. The last thing he needed was Marian Branon’s intoxicating blend of propriety and rebellion that had upset the careful balance of his mind.

The fire sputtered and popped, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney. Nicholas watched them rise and fade, each tiny light extinguished by reality, much like the dangerous possibilities he had begun to imagine whenever Marian was nearby.

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