Page 67 of Made for the Marquess (Second Sons of London 4)

“No, Minta,” Aunt Phyllis said firmly. “I mean what passes in the . . . that is, when you go . . . when everyone leaves and you return to the marquess’ townhouse.”

She felt her face flame. “Oh.”

Her aunt placed her hands on Minta’s shoulders. “You will perform certain . . . acts . . . with the marquess. He will kiss you and touch you . . . in various places.Manydifferent places. Just be prepared.”

Embarrassment flooded her. “I understand.”

“Good. I did not know if you had been prepared or not.” Aunt Phyllis smiled brightly. “Well, it seems you have been. That is good to know. I will be leaving in our carriage now to go and check on things. Her Grace will send her carriage for you and Westlake.”

Aunt Phyllis bustled from the room. Minta wondered why after all these years of marriage that her aunt still referred to Uncle West so formally. She had thought of Percy as Percy ever since she had learned of his Christian name. She knew it was not acceptable to refer to him as thus in company though she had noted the Three Cousins always called their husbands by name when in her presence. Adalyn even called her husband by his nickname, Ev, instead of Everett.

She moved to the dressing table and sat, lifting the sparkling necklace and placing it against her throat. Fastening the clasp, she studied herself in the mirror. It was hard to believe she would be a marchioness, married to a marquess, which ranked just under a duke. She had yearned for a husband who could provide material things for her.

And had discovered along the way that those things weren’t as important as hoping she would one day claim Percy’s love.

Bertha came in one more time to see if Minta needed anything, exclaiming over the necklace. The maid assured her that everything would be packed and transported during the wedding ceremony and breakfast to the Kingston townhouse so that it would be waiting for her by the time she arrived later today. Her uncle had been kind enough to allow Bertha to leave the household and accompany Minta, saying it would do her good to have a friendly face who would take care of her needs, large and small. She planned to share the maid with Sera once her twin arrived this summer.

“If there’s nothing else, Miss Nicholls, then I will see you later today,” Bertha promised. Smiling, she added, “Just think. From now on, I will address you as my lady.”

“It is a little hard to take in,” she admitted to the servant.

“You deserve all the good things in life, Miss Nicholls. And the marquess cuts a fine figure. So handsome, that one.”

Minta grinned. “He is rather handsome.”

And he will be all mine.

*

Percy allowed Hustonto fuss over him since today was his wedding day. He wanted to look his absolute best for Minta.

Especially because she was marrying damaged goods.

Oh, he knew he was being selfish by taking her as his bride. It was what his heart had wanted all along and what he warred against, believing she deserved far more than he was capable of giving her. Two things had changed his mind, though. The incident with Chatsworth that he’d stumbled across when he had followed her brought a fierce protectiveness out in him. He would slay dragons for Minta Nicholls and lay their severed heads at her feet.

The other involved that witch of a woman, Lady Vickers. The woman had been actively hunting for a title for her drab daughter and had probably skulked through the gardens, hoping to come across a compromising scene and wield her threat of blackmail. Percy couldn’t allow the woman to ruin Minta’s reputation. He realized not only would the woman’s gossip poison Polite Society against Minta—but it would also damage her twin, Sera, before she ever made her debut in London.

That was why he had decided to compromise Minta himself and make certain others saw it. It would give him the excuse to offer marriage to her.

And he could have her all to himself.

Yes, he was greedy. He was taking what should never have been his. Percy promised himself he would do the best he could to be a good husband to her. He doubted they would ever have the closeness the married Second Sons had with their wives but if he could share even a sliver of that with Minta, he would relish every minute of it.

“There, my lord,” Huston said, stepping back and studying Percy with a satisfied smile. “You will not disappoint Miss Nicholls with your appearance.”

He flushed, thinking how he would disappoint her in so many other ways. But he couldn’t give in to that now, else he would not have the courage to go through with the ceremony. The only thing worse than the two of them being seen kissing at the garden party would be not to wed at all. As a man and high-ranking peer, it wouldn’t do much to his reputation. But as a woman, Minta would be branded an outcast. Even if it was him breaking off their engagement, Polite Society always blamed the woman. That was another lesson Adalyn had taught him.

He would not do that to Minta. He loved her too much.

Wincing, he told himself he couldn’t think of love. He certainly wouldn’t be able to tell her he loved her. He was marrying her to protect her good name. They wouldn’t be able to have the close relationship of the rare people who fell in love. He still had too many deficiencies that he must hide from her.

It made Percy wonder about what his valet had just said. That Minta would not be disappointed in his appearance. Yes, on the surface, he looked every inch the English lord, entitled, wealthy, and handsome. But Huston—and others in the household—knew there were things wrong with him that were beyond repair.

“Thank you, Huston,” he said dismissively, watching the valet exit the room.

Alone now, he went and stood before the full-length mirror. He wore a white muslin shirt with a white, silk cravat. Over it was a black cutaway, tailed jacket, with the buttons left undone to show his dark waistcoat embroidered with silver threads. Tight, dark breeches hugged his form, as did the gleaming Hessians he wore.

Reaching for his top hat, he placed it on his head and left the bedchamber, heading downstairs to his carriage.

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