Page 11 of Midnight with the Marquess (The St. Clairs 2)

Chapter Four

Rachel couldn’t believeshe’d actually voiced the words to a man she’d only known for a quarter-hour.

Lord Merrick’s face revealed shock—then intrigue.

She found herself saying, “I’m sorry, Evan. I never should have asked that of you. You know from overhearing my conversation with Leah that I haven’t been able to attract a husband. I thought if I learned how to kiss properly, it might help. Please, disregard my request.”

He held a hand up and she fell silent.

“Since you mentioned my eavesdropping, I have to say that Lady Leah mentioned how popular you were with the men of theton. And despite what you’re wearing now, you are a most beautiful woman. It’s hard to imagine you received no offers of marriage, the issue of kissing set aside.”

Rachel huffed. “I did receive several. Within the first two weeks of the Season. Can you imagine that? Men whose names I could barely remember were lining up, offering for me. It was ridiculous. I put a stop to all of that nonsense.”

“How?”

“I made it known that I would entertain no offers of marriage unless I fell in love. Of course, that didn’t stop the constant stream of men. Our house was overrun with flowers. I took more rides in carriages and on horseback in the park than I thought possible. I danced every dance when I attended balls. I went to so many events that they became a blur. Men wooed me as if there was no tomorrow.”

“And yet you didn’t fall in love with any of them?” he asked.

“No—not a one!” she declared.

“You do realize that love rarely has anything to do with marriage,” he stated. “Most couples find tolerating one another to be adequate. Some actually grow to like each other and a few others become fond of one another. I suppose a rare handful, such as Alex and Lady Leah, do fall in love. Surely, you could have chosen the man with the best qualities and—”

“And what?” she demanded. “Marryhim?” Rachel shuddered. “If I’m to spend a lifetime with a man, it better be someone I love. Of course, I expect to like him a great deal, too.” She sighed. “I know, I seem to want the impossible. Is it too much to ask that I find one man who is kind, intelligent, and possesses a sense of humor? I don’t think so.”

“What of looks? Titles? And wealth? Most women would put those first on their lists. Not attributes.”

“I’m not most women,” she said firmly. “I want a man who’s at least as smart as I am. One who will make me laugh whether I’m twenty-two or ninety-two. It would be good to have some things in common, enough so we’d get along. But, at the same time, I’d want us to be different enough so that we would have new things to share with one another every day.”

Rachel cracked her knuckles as she spoke. “See? If Cor were here, she’d cringe. Not that I’m speaking to a man in my night clothes and calling him by his Christian name, but that I’m cracking my knuckles in front of him. I want a man who’d love me—and like me—despite the fact that I have this disgusting habit.”

“Who’s Cor?”

She dropped her hands to her lap. And then laughed. “Youaredifferent from most men I met this Season, Evan. You haven’t run from the room screaming because of my honesty.” She tilted her head and eyed him carefully. “I like that about you. As to Cor, she’s my grandmother. She raised Jeremy, Luke, and me because all three of our mothers died in childbirth. Cor is the St. Clair rock.”

“She’s done a fine job of raising you, Rachel. You’re bright and curious and a delight to converse with. I’m usually averse to conversation but I’ve enjoyed ours tremendously.”

Evan reached and took one of her hands in his. His touch made her forget to breathe for a moment. She gazed into his blue eyes, mesmerized by them.

“As far as kissing you goes, I will be happy to teach you,” he promised.

“When? Now?” she asked eagerly.

“Kissing is a part of flirtation,” he said. “You don’t quite appreciate it as much unless you build up to it. We shall start slowly.”

“You disappoint me, Evan. You’re putting me off.”

“Am I?” he asked softly and entwined his fingers with hers.

Rachel swallowed, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by merely holding his hand. She licked her lips nervously.

“Stop that,” he chided.

“Stop what?” she asked, clueless as to what he needed her to quit doing since she wasn’t doing anything annoying. “I’m not cracking my knuckles anymore,” she said defensively.

“You licked your lips.”

“What if I did?” she challenged.

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