At that moment, there was a faint
rap on the door, and Marcus jumped to open it. Standing there with her head
bowed and a candlestick in her hand stood Miss Radford.
“She’s beautiful,” Lucian
murmured.
“I told you she was not pockmarked,”
Marcus smiled. “And she comes from fine, noble stock.”
“I am not some horse on the auction
block, if you please, my lord,” Emily scoffed, raising her fiery eyes, and then
offsetting the severity of her comment by biting her lower lip.
“Forgive me, miss,” Marcus bowed.
“May I present Miss Emily Radford, governess, daughter of Sir Henry Radford.
Miss Radford, this is my dearest friend, Lord Lucian Grummel, Baron of
Westings. I am sure you both have much to discuss, and I wish you well,” Marcus
bowed and took a step toward the door.
“I beg your pardon, Lord Berkshire,”
Emily gasped. “What kind of a woman do you think I am to attend to a man in his
room, alone, my lord?”
Marcus paused. “But, Miss Radford,
the man is dying.”
“So you seek to entrap me into
marrying him?”
Marcus had a difficult time looking
into the rekindled fire in her eyes without laughing. “I shall leave the door
open.” He could not resist baiting her.
Lucian sighed. “Marcus, you told me
you brought me a lady and that I would need to mind my manners, but where are
yours?”
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