Page 58 of Saving Miss Pratt

He nodded. “As you’re aware, it doesn’t take much for theton’stongues to wag. To hear your mother tell it, there was a degree of impropriety between them, and Stratford ran the young man out of London under threat of bringing legal charges.”

Priscilla’s eyes grew wide. “Could he do that?”

“Practically anything’s possible if you have the power Stratford does. As I understand it, the young man had no title or money, and Stratford accused him of being a fortune hunter.” He paused as if gauging her reaction. “However, I would take anything your mother says with more than a pinch of salt.”

Years ago, such information about a rival would have been like finding gold. But at that moment, it caused her pain for her new friend. No wonder Honoria was still unmarried, and perhaps Timothy was her last chance for a titled husband.

Torn between her first female friend and the man who held her affection, she decided to make her best attempt to find a husband who wasn’t an attractive red-headed doctor.

CHAPTER 16—ENCOUNTER AT THE BOOKSELLER’S

Signs of spring began making welcomed appearances. Snowdrops popped up from wet patches of earth. Birds fluttered about, gathering bits of twigs and string to build nests to lay their eggs. Buds on trees unfurled into tender leaves. The temperature rose enough to forgo wearing a heavy greatcoat. Worst of all, couples strolled along in the park, some even arm in arm.

It was enough to make a man curse.

Not that Timothy didn’t enjoy spring. He did—especially the warmer weather. It was the infernal mating call all around him that put him in a foul mood. Each happy couple he passed, each chirp of a baby bird, each new litter of kittens mewing under a secluded stairway reminded him he needed to stop beating around the bush and offer for Lady Honoria.

Granted, the lady herself hadn’t pressed the matter. She seemed content to spend time with him without any promises being made, which was curious. Her father, on the other hand, was not as patient. When Timothy arrived one morning to escort Lady Honoria to the booksellers, the butler directed him to Lord Stratford’s study rather than the parlor where he usually waited.

Giving one solid knock to the open door, Timothy waited at the entrance.

Stratford did not rise from behind his desk, but instead nodded and motioned Timothy to enter. “Dr. Marbry.” The man’s intense blue eyes studied Timothy as if he were a specimen under a microscope.

Timothy swallowed the rather large lump that had found a home in his throat, unsure what, if anything, he should say. He forced the most polite and logical thing he could think of at the moment. “Sir.” He nodded. “How are you feeling? Recovered fully from your malady of a few weeks ago?”

Stratford waved him off. “Yes. Yes. Although I will admit, the poultice and tea you provided did more for me than those damnable leeches my personal physician insists upon using.”

Pride swelled in Timothy’s chest. At least he’d done something right in the marquess’s eyes. He waited, anticipating the direction of the conversation, but not wishing to presume lest he be completely off the mark.

A man used to controlling the situation, the marquess continued to eye Timothy, his fingers drumming a steady rhythm against the fine-grained wood of his desk. “How familiar are you with Honoria’s past?”

Confusion shifted the course of Timothy’s thoughts. What was Stratford fishing for? “I’m not sure of your meaning, sir.”

“It’s simple enough. Are you aware of her past?”

“If you’re asking if I’ve heard gossip, to be honest, yes. However, I’m not one to believe such hearsay.”

“Hmm.” He stopped his infernal drumming and thumbed some papers. “If what you heard is that she was involved with a man beneath her, your sources are correct.”

Timothy resisted the urge to squirm under the man’s direct gaze, but heat inched up his neck.

“To a point,” the marquess continued. “There was an unsavory part that circulated about Honoria’s . . . virtue. I hope you don’t give credence to such lies.”

“No, sir. Of course not.”

The tension that Timothy had initially attributed to the man’s formidable reputation eased. Perhaps the marquess was more concerned about what Timothy thought than first expected.

“Lady Honoria has conducted herself with grace and dignity, sir. You need not worry about her behavior with me.”

Of course, much of that had to do with Timothy’s own lack of physical desire for his future intended. Had it been Lord Cartwright interrogating him about Priscilla, would he have been able to say the same?

He brushed it aside, reminding himself, yet again, he wasnotcourting Priscilla.

“Is that all?” Timothy began to rise, hoping he would be dismissed.

Stratford held out his hand, urging him back to his seat. “Not quite. I’m wondering why my daughter hasn’t brought you up to scratch. What exactly are your intentions regarding her, if I may ask?”

Although phrased politely, there was no question that he demanded an answer. Timothy scrambled for the precise words that would appease the man before him, yet buy him a little more time before placing himself in the parson’s trap.

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