At school he'd been popular-boys of his charm and athletic ability usually were-but it had taken some time to weed out the true friends from those who saw him as a means to a better life and position.

And then in London-good God! He could have had two heads and the trunk of an elephant for all those ladies cared. "The marquis, the marquis," he'd heard whispered. "He's a marquis. He has a fortune. He lives in a castle." His looks and youth he'd heard referred to as a boon, but never once had he heard anyone make mention of his wit, his sense of humor, or even his smile.

When it came right down to it, Elizabeth Hotchkiss was the first woman he'd met in a long while who seemed to like him for himself.

He looked back at her. "No marquis?" he murmured. "Why, then, the book?"

Her fisted hands shook at her sides, and she looked as if she might stamp her foot at any moment. “Because it was here. Because it wasn't called HOW TO MARRY AN UNTITLED GENTLEMAN OF SOME FORTUNE AND REASONABLE GOOD HUMOR. I don't know."

James had to smile at that.

"But I doubt I could attract a titled gentleman in the first place," she added. "I have no dowry, and I'm certainly not a diamond of the first water."

They disagreed there, but he suspected she wouldn't believe him even if he said so. “Do you have any candidates in mind?'' he asked.

She paused for a long, telling moment before saying, "No."

"Then you do have a man in mind," he said with a grin.

Again, she remained silent for several seconds before saying, in a tone that told him his life would be in danger if he pursued the topic further, "He isn't suitable."

"And what constitutes suitable?"

She sighed wearily. "I don't want to be beaten, I'd rather not be abandoned-"

"My, my, we're aiming high."

"Forget I said anything," she snapped. "I don't know why I'm sharing this with you, anyway. You obviously have no idea how it feels to be desperate, to lack choices, to know that no matter what you do-"

"Elizabeth," he said softly, reaching out and grasping her fingers. "I'm sorry."

"He has to have money," she said dully, staring down at her hand in his. "I need money."

"I see."

"I doubt you do, but it's probably enough for you to know that I'm destitute."

"Lady Danbury doesn't pay you enough to support yourself?" he asked quietly.

"She does, but it isn't enough to support my younger siblings. And Lucas must go to Eton."

"Yes," he said distractedly, "a boy should. He's a baronet, you say?"

"No, I didn't say, but yes, he is."

"Lady Danbury must have told me."

She shrugged and let out an exhale mixed with self-mocking laughter. "It's common knowledge. We're the district's official example of impoverished gentry. So you see, I'm not precisely marriageable. All I have to offer is my family's bloodlines. And even those aren't terribly impressive. It's not as if I spring from nobility."

"No," he mused, "but one would think that many a man would wish to marry into the local gentry, especially a titled branch. And you have the added bonus of being quite beautiful."

She looked up sharply. "Please don't patronize me."

He smiled in disbelief. She clearly had no idea of her charms.

"I've been told I'm reasonably pretty-" she began.

Well, perhaps some idea.

"-but beautiful is quite a stretch."

He waved his hand, dismissing her protest. "You'll have to trust me on this measure. As I was saying, I'm certain there must be several men in the district who'd like to marry you."

"There's one," she said distastefully. "A local squire. But he's old, fat, and mean. My younger sister has already said that she will run away to a workhouse if I marry him."

"I see." James rubbed his chin, searching for a solution to her dilemma. It seemed a crime that she would have to marry some disgusting old squire twice her age. Perhaps there was something he could do. He had enough money to send her brother to Eton a thousand times over.

Or rather, the Marquis of Riverdale did. James Siddons, a Mere Mister, wasn't supposed to have anything other than the clothes on his back.

But perhaps he could arrange for some sort of anonymous gift. Surely Elizabeth wouldn't be so proud as to ignore an unexpected windfall. He didn't doubt that she'd refuse a gift for her own sake, but not when the welfare of her family was at stake.

James made a mental note to contact his solicitor as soon as possible.

"So," she said with an uncomfortable laugh, "unless you've a fortune tucked away, I really don't see how you can help me."

"Well," he said, avoiding an outright lie, "I'd thought to aid you in a different manner."

"What do you mean?"

He chose his words carefully. “I know a bit about the art of flirtation. Before I sought employment, I was… not precisely active, but I did participate in the social scene."

"In London?" she asked dubiously. "With the ton?"

“I will never understand the complexities of a London season," he said, quite emphatically.

"Oh. Well, that's no matter, I suppose, as I lack the funds for a season." She looked back up and offered him a rueful smile. "And even if I didn't, it would all go toward Lucas's education, anyway."

He stared at her, taking in the sight of that delicate oval face and big blue eyes. She had to be the least selfish person he'd ever met. "You're a good sister, Elizabeth Hotchkiss," he said quietly.

"Not really," she said in a sad voice. Sometimes I feel so resentful. If I were a better person I'd-"

"Nonsense," he interrupted. "There is nothing wrong with anger over injustice."

She laughed. "It's not injustice, James, it's just poverty. I'm sure you understand."

In his entire life, James had never had to do without. When his father had been alive, he'd been granted a monstrously huge allowance. And then, upon gaining the title, he'd inherited an even more monstrously huge fortune.

Elizabeth tilted her head and gazed out the window, where a soft breeze was ruffling the leaves of Lady Danbury's favorite elm. "Sometimes," she whispered, "I wish…"

"What do you wish?" James asked intently.

She gave her head a little shake. "It doesn't matter. And I really do have to see to Lady Danbury. She'll be arriving at the sitting room any minute now and is sure to need me."

"Elizabeth!" came the loud bellow from across the hall.

"See? Do you see how well I know her?"

James inclined his head respectfully and murmured, "Most impressive."

"ELIZABETH!"

"Heavens above," Elizabeth said, "what can she possibly need?"

"Company," James replied. "That's all she really needs. Company."

"Where is that ridiculous cat when I need it?" She turned and made to leave.

"Elizabeth!" James called out.

She turned back. "Yes?"

"The book." He pointed at the small red volume, still tucked under her arm. "You don't want to take that to the drawing room, do you?"

"Oh! No!" She shoved it into his hands. "Thank you. I'd completely forgotten that I was holding it."

"I'll put it back for you."

"It goes on that shelf over there," she said, pointing across the room. "Sideways. Facedown. You need to make sure you leave it exactly as I say."

He smiled indulgently. "Would you feel better if you put it back yourself?"

She paused, then said, "Yes, actually, I would," and grabbed the book back. James watched as she dashed across the room and carefully placed the book on the proper shelf. She inspected her handiwork for a moment, then tapped it on the bottom, moving it slightly to the left. Twisting her mouth in thought, she regarded it for another moment, then tapped it back to the right.

"I'm certain Lady Danbury won't notice if the book is an inch or so off."

But she ignored him, dashing across the room with only an "I'll have to see you later" in his direction.

James poked his head out the door, watching as she disappeared into Agatha's sitting room. Then he shut the library door, crossed the room, picked up the book, and began to read.

Chapter 9

“You want to do what!"

Elizabeth stood in front of Lady Danbury, her mouth hanging open in surprise.

"I told you, I'm going to take a nap."

"But you never take naps."

Lady Danbury raised a brow. "I took one just two days ago."

"But-but-"

"Close your mouth, Elizabeth. You're beginning to resemble a fish."

"But you have told me," Elizabeth protested, "time and again, that the hallmark of civilization is routine."

Lady D shrugged and made a fussy little chirping sound. "A lady cannot take it upon herself to occasionally change her routine? All routines need periodic readjustment."

Elizabeth managed to shut her mouth, but she still couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"I may take a nap every day," Lady Danbury stated, crossing her arms. "I say, what the devil are you looking for?"

Elizabeth, who had been tossing bewildered glances around the room, replied, "A ventriloquist. These words couldn't possibly be coming from your mouth."

"I assure you they are. I'm finding afternoon naps to be prodigiously refreshing."

"But the one you took the other day-your single previous nap since childhood, I might add-was in the morning."

"Hmmph. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn't."

"It was."

"It would have been better in the afternoon."

Elizabeth had no idea how to argue against such illogic, so she just threw up her arms and said, "I'll leave you to your sleep, then."

"Yes. Do that. And shut the door behind you. I'm certain I'll need absolute silence."

"I can't imagine you'd require anything less."