“What is it?” Lydia asked.

“I could marry Lord Wesleigh in your stead.”

This calm announcement was met with a moment of shocked silence, before Lydia instinctively protested. “Oh, no, Emily, I cannot let you,” she stated, shaking her head.

“Lydia, be reasonable. I am very unlikely to meet any prospective husbands here in Stonehurst now that my sister has chosen the only eligible man in the vicinity. I have to marry one day, and I am not the beauty you are. And just think of poor Lord Wesleigh,” Emily said, struggling to keep a straight face but unable to contain a mischievous smile. “We cannot just let an eligible young marquess wither on the vine.”

Lydia did not smile at Emily’s droll remark, but only regarded her in silence. Emily shrugged, growing more serious. “And as you said, we do not want to disappoint Mama,” she added.

“But Emily, it is such a sacrifice,” Lydia protested.

The gleam returned to Emily’s dark eyes, and she grinned impishly. “A sacrifice? To marry a wealthy young lord and live the pampered life of a duchess? I do not think most young ladies would view it as such. I will marry him if he is not despicable and he will have me. But from what we know of him, he does not appear to be particular. He agreed to marry you, and you are not even acquainted.” 

Alexander Eaton, Marquess of Wesleigh, and heir to the dukedom of Alford, was totally unaware that a trio of females he had yet to meet had decided his future. In fact, he was blissfully unaware of anything at all, being sound asleep after having arrived home in the wee hours of the morning. So he was none too pleased to hear a knock at his door, followed by the sound of someone entering his chamber.