Much Ado About Kissing (Howertys #4)

Prologue

Two years he had tried to turn things around. Two years of hard work and making investments and improvements with what little capital he could scrounge up. It had helped. But not nearly enough. It was a sad truth, but it took money to make money. He had a good sense for business and most investments he'd made had paid off. Unfortunately, he'd not had enough to put in for it to yield enough to get him fully out of the hole his father had dug.

This was not how he had imagined finding himself a wife, but he was running out of time. He had duties to his tenants and servants, and as such... He would go ahead with this despicable plan to court Lady Miranda Howerty and gain access both to her handsome dowry and to the winning bets.

"Quit your grumbling and make yourself useful," he muttered. "Could you please point her out to me?"

"One would think that after all those years with the Quartermaster-General, you'd be clever enough to figure it out."

He ignored the jab. Winter and he had both been with the Quartermaster-General in the Peninsular War, but Marcus was a code breaker and not an agent as Winter had been. Ask him to review papers and files and he could find the smallest discrepancies and patterns, but when it came to people—he lacked the finesse to deal with them easily.

Taking pity on him, Winter nodded towards the refreshment table. There appeared to be quite a gathering of people, mostly men, hovering around two dark-haired women. He should have realised. Naturally, the Season's most popular catch would attract a crowd.

"That's her next to Miss Olivia Newton. Go fetch."

"I am not a dog." He shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. No one would know it by looking at him, but being in crowded ballrooms made him uncomfortable. He much preferred to be left on his own.

At well above six feet, he knew he cut an imposing figure, especially with his broad frame and a face that he had learned to keep impassive. His father had tolerated no emotional displays from his eldest son. A duke was always sombre. Always strict. Always gambling his fortunes away. Frustrated, he pushed the angry thought away. Perhaps he would wait a few more moments before approaching Lady Miranda.

"You won't find her less occupied later," Winter remarked dryly. "You might as well take the plunge and join the throng of admirers now."

"In a moment," he bit out, annoyed his friend knew him so well.

Winter sighed. "Come. Let us grab some refreshments, and then you can decide whether to approach her or not."

They made their way across the ballroom, having to manoeuvre between the other guests. Too many people in one place all at once. He hated it and longed for the reprieve of the spacious office in his house. But, if he did not resolve his money situation soon, he would no longer have access to the house but would have to sell it together with any other unentailed properties. Once at the large table filled with refreshments, he poured himself a glass of punch, and sipping the sweet drink, he turned around to sweep his gaze over the room. Daring a quick glance to where the ladies had been, he found the crowd had dispersed.

"Where has she gone?"

"Dancing. She quite enjoys the social swirl, and I know for a fact she loves dancing." Winter gave him a knowing look. "How will you keep her happy when she is your exact opposite?"

Marcus remained silent. He honestly didn't know. All he knew was that he needed to save his estate. If not for his own sake; for all the people depending on him. The yearly income from his estate had dwindled, as there had been no money to make improvements to the farms or cottages. With enough money, he could invest well, and he could help with the improvements needed to increase the yearly income again. But it all hinged on him finding a wife. The right wife. Lady Miranda Howerty.