Page 5 of An offer from the Marquess (Necessary Arrangements 4)

Chapter 2

Rhys, the Marquess of Vane, sat opposite his friend Viscount St. Clare and his wife, the Duchess of Somerset, in the library. The couple talked between themselves in hushed tones, letting Rhys stew in his thoughts, and he was grateful for it.

When Rhys came to the Duchess of Somerset’s ball, he did so with the sole purpose of finding a wife. He knew exactly the kind of woman he wanted to marry.

He needed a seasoned woman who knew how to deal with children and run his estates. Perhaps a widow with a child or two in tow.

He needed a proper woman. Someone who was free of scandal and could demonstrate all the rules of proper decorum and never sully the Vane title. His title had suffered enough. He needed to bring it back into the world with grace.

He didn’t need the lady to be attractive. The less appealing she was to other men, the better. And as for him, after years of abstinence, he was certain he’d be able to conjure up the need long enough to try and conceive an heir.

After all, he had managed to bed his former wife for almost two years. He couldn’t imagine the nights with his next wife to be more daunting than that.

In short, he needed a mother for his daughter, a hostess for his estates, and a perfectly proper lady to carry his title.

And Miss Isabel Lewis was absolutely wrong for all his purposes.

“Well,” St. Clare said, as he took his wife’s hand and played with her fingers, “at least it was quick.”

“Only you could see something good from this atrocious situation,” Rhys noted drily.

“You did say you didn’t want to linger among theton,” the duchess pointed out.

“No.” Rhys let out a pained breath. “No, I did not want to linger among theton, but what I wanted more was to avoid scandal.”

“Pft!” St. Clare waved the issue away. “This little thing? It will be forgotten by noon on the morrow.”

The duchess chuckled. She looked at her husband with bright eyes and a clear expression of adoration on her face. They were absolutely in love, damn them. Rhys felt a slight pang in his chest. He had given up on love a long time ago and was prepared to spend his life without it. But something about watching the couple before him called to the young boy that Rhys had once been—the boy who’d yearned for love.

Rhys cleared his throat. “I doubt that. And Miss Lewis is not exactly the proper lady I was looking for. I do not need a scandalous woman for a wife.”

“Scandalous?” The duchess dragged her attention from her adoring husband long enough to raise a brow at Rhys. “I hardly think you know Isabel well enough to make such an assessment of her character.”

Rhys was afraid he did know Miss Lewis well enough to make such a statement. He was prepared to wager that he knew her a lot better than the duchess did. After all, he had known her when they were a lot younger. Before he had even married.

After all, he had thought himself in love with her once upon a time.

Rhys shook the memory away.

“With all due respect, you married St. Clare. So I think your threshold for the wordscandalousmight be a lot higher than mine,” Rhys said.

St. Clare laughed, and his wife directed a stern glance his way.

“My debauched husband aside, I do not associate myself with scandalous people,” she said with all the haughtiness of a duchess.

St. Clare raised a brow. “You ran away in the middle of the night, accosted me in my bedchamber, and demanded I marry you. I do not think we could find a lady more scandalous than you if we tried. So, of course, in comparison, every other lady seems quite proper.”

The duchess started protesting, but the viscount took her face between his hands and planted a demanding kiss on her mouth.

Rhys directed his eyes heavenward before looking away. He did not want to witness the improper behavior of his scandalous friend.

However, St. Clare could afford it. He was the most notorious rake in London, and he’d managed to marry the most influential woman in England aside from the Queen.

Rhys had no such luck. He would have to make do with the unscrupulous sister of a rakehell viscount.

“Gabriel, please!” The duchess twisted away from her husband with a chuckle. “I think you proved your scandalous reputation quite enough.” Her cheeks were cherry red from embarrassment.

“Very well, I’ll wait a few moments until we’re done here,” her husband said in a low voice.

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