Page 78 of How to Cross a Marquess (The Way to a Lord's Heart 3)

Roger had never seen Fenella sparkle so with a stranger. He’d known her only in their small neighborhood with gentlemen they’d been acquainted with all their lives. He was captivated anew, and just a bit jealous. He kept wanting to mention that he was her husband. But for once he managed not to blurt out an inappropriate remark.

“Hehas nothing to fear,” said Fenella. “You, however, could use a setdown.”

“Shall we go out and try a few rounds? You must have some pistols about, Grandmamma.”

“I’m out of practice,” said Fenella.

“So you admit that I’d best you now.”

Fenella hesitated, and for a moment Roger thought she was going to jump up and accept the challenge. He looked forward to watching her trounce her cousin. But then she nodded. “I expect you would, Rob.”

“Really? You concede?”

Their grandmother made a small sound.

Fenella and her cousin turned to her like plants stirred by the wind. “We need to talk about averting a scandal,” the old woman said.

“Just tell everyone that you’re behind the match,” replied the laird. “Who’d dispute it? Or dare to argue?”

“No one,” said Fenella with a fond smile for her grandmother.

“Well, I suppose that is the plan, more or less. With a few refinements.” Their hostess turned to Roger. “Your mother will add her approval?”

He nodded. “She’s very fond of Fenella.”

“And I of her.”

The old lady nodded. “Your sisters’ husbands are gabsters.”

“Shoot ’em,” said the laird.

This earned him a stern glance. “You are not to have any more wine,” said his grandmother.

“Yes, ma’am.” He pushed his glass away. “Only joking.”

“They must be brought around.”

“I’ll speak to them,” said Roger.

His tone made the others turn to gaze at him.

“They won’t cause problems,” he added.

Fenella’s grandmother and her cousin offered respectful nods. The look Fenella gave him sent a wave of heat from Roger’s head to his toes.

Fifteen

The Marquess of Chatton brought his new marchioness home to the castle a week later, to a warm and lively welcome. He found that his mother had already moved back to the dower house, a pleasant, roomy residence half a mile away across the park. Lord Macklin remained and was soon exercising his genius for keeping out of the way when he wasn’t wanted.

Roger was delighted to install Fenella as the new mistress of the household. The servants knew her, of course, but not in this role. And if, now and then, a thread of worry nagged at him, he was able to push it away. There must always be a period of adjustment in the early days of a marriage, he told himself. His life with Fenella was pure bliss compared to his first foray into matrimony. She would soon settle and regain her spirits. Not that she moped or drooped, he hastily amended to himself. She was happy. He was nearly certain she was happy. He had no reason to suppose that there was some spark missing. Probably, she was still worried about her father’s legacy. That could be easily remedied.

The next morning, he prepared himself to visit her former home and settle the matter of her inheritance.

“I should go with you,” Fenella said. “Though I must admit I don’t really wish to see my brothers-in-law.”

“Symmes and Gissing will expect me to handle the business,” he replied.

“Oh yes. What could a mere female have to say?”

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