Page 63 of Midnight with the Marquess (The St. Clairs 2)

“You might be next,” Rachel told him. “Nothing says I have to be the next St. Clair to marry.”

Her brother looked horrified. “Why would I do something like that? I’m only twenty-three. I don’t plan to settle down for a good decade. Maybe longer.”

Cor cleared her throat. “Don’t you want to give me great-grandchildren, Luke?”

“You already have three, Cor—Jenny, Timothy, and Delia. Let Jeremy and Catherine give you more. Or even Rachel. I don’t want to think of little brats running around, hanging on my legs.”

Catherine laughed. “You are impossible, Luke! You adore your nieces and nephew and let them hang on you all the time.”

“That’s different. I can play with them all I want and then give them back. I’m already having to be responsible enough, learning how to run Fairhaven as the Earl of Mayfield. I don’t want the additional responsibility of a wife—or family—for a long time.”

Jeremy chuckled. “Love strikes when you least expect it, little brother. Who knows? Next Season, you may find yourself hopelessly in love.”

“Then I will avoid Almack’s entirely,” he proclaimed.

Rachel sniffed. “You’re too much of a flirt and enjoy dancing far too much to skip the Season entirely. There aren’t any pretty girls at your club. A man can only read the newspapers and play cards and drink whiskey with other men for so long before he seeks out the company of women.”

Luke laughed. “When did you become so wise to the ways of men?”

An awkward silence filled the carriage and then Catherine cried, “We’re here! Let’s hurry. I have a thousand things to tell the staff before the others begin to arrive.”

The St. Clairs exited the coach and returned inside. Soon, dozens of guests descended upon them. Rachel spent time going from group to group until the happy couple arrived. Everyone cheered again as Leah and Alex entered.

Then she saw Merrick slip in behind them.

He turned and kept along the wall, avoiding speaking to anyone as he made his way to his seat. Rachel supposed Catherine had somehow gotten word to him where he was to sit because he never looked at a place card before sliding into the chair assigned to him. As the newlyweds made their way to the center of the long table, she helped Catherine and Cor encourage others to begin taking their seats. Once most of the group found one, Rachel ventured to the head table. To Leah’s left was Catherine, then Luke, and finally Rachel. On Alex’s right was Cor, Jeremy, and Merrick on the end. She had Luke to protect her and Jeremy to prevent Merrick from even glancing her way. She should feel relieved.

Instead, Rachel’s misery grew.

To be in the same room with Merrick was hard enough. To want him as badly as she did until she felt sick inside was unbearable. To know they wouldn’t be able to speak hurt more than when she’d broken her arm when she’d been tossed from her horse years ago.

She wouldn’t show it, though. She would play the role of a happy St. Clair. Her dearest friend in the world had just married the man she worshipped. Rachel would not let any shadow deflect Leah’s happiness.

Though she’d helped plan the breakfast menu, Rachel barely tasted the courses of food that came out and couldn’t have told anyone what she’d eaten. She let Luke guide the conversation, doing her best to concentrate on what he said. Now that he lived at Fairhaven and in London most of the year, with only short visits back to Eversleigh, she missed him. Maybe she could go and stay with him after Leah married. Anything to get her mind off her heartache.

Finally, it was time for Merrick’s toast. Rachel thought if she didn’t look in his direction, it would seem odd. She turned after he rose and thought to look to his left and not directly at him.

And couldn’t.

Her eyes were drawn to his handsome face. It seemed haggard, as if he might have been ill recently. She pushed that thought aside and drank him in. Or she wanted to. Now that she actually looked at him, his dark blond hair needed more than a trim. The mesmerizing blue eyes looked bloodshot. His tall frame seemed to have shrunk. She almost wept at the sight of him.

He held a champagne flute in his hand and looked at the happy couple. Everyone stood with their own flutes in hand.

“Never has a man had a better friend than I have had in Alexander Lock, Earl of Alford. From boyhood, he has been a loyal, caring friend and the brother of my heart. In his new countess, Alex has found his perfect partner. These two complement each other more than any couple I have ever seen. It’s obvious to all who see them to know how very much in love they are.”

Merrick raised his glass high. “To the Earl and Countess of Alford—may they live long and love well!”

“Hear, hear!” the guests shouted.

As Rachel brought the glass to her lips, her eyes met Merrick’s. He nodded deferentially and then tilted his flute back, downing the champagne in a single swallow. She took a sip and then set hers down. Though she’d only had a tiny bit, she felt lightheaded as if she’d drunk an entire bottle. That was how intoxicating merely looking at Merrick was.

Luke leaned down and murmured in her ear. “Merrick doesn’t look well. I wonder if something has happened to him.”

She looked and saw a rush of guests moving toward Leah and Alex, ready to congratulate them before they left for their honeymoon. Even Jeremy and Catherine were surrounded with well-wishers. Rachel made an instant decision as she watched Merrick set his flute down and do as Jeremy had requested.

Leave without a fuss.

She latched on to Luke’s wrist. “Come with me,” she demanded, yanking him along, snaking through wedding guests. They managed to escape the room and she hurried to the foyer, where the front door was just closing. Breaking away from Luke, she raced to the door and threw it open.

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