The Marquess and the Midwife (*On Hold*)

4 Kyrie

"One more round," Owen Hamblin was demanding of the waitress as he slapped me thoroughly on the back and turned, grinning, back to the other men at our table. "One more round to give us a bit of a buzz so that we might survive the monotonous name-reading."

Archibald Starks laughed so hard at that he spat his bourbon back into his glass.

"Every year," Myer Booth groaned with a shake of his head. "Every year we stand in these dreadful shoes and listen to the master of ceremonies read the names of the ladies debuting this year while the ones who already have stare daggers at them and us from the other side of the room. It's the most ridiculous tradition."

"The most ridiculous?" Archibald asked with a wicked grin. "I'd say that title goes to the observation of consummation. Do you know my brother told me seven people watched him perform the marital duty the night of his wedding? That alone is nearly enough to keep me single."

These men, my friends, all guffawed at that. I couldn't help but chuckle along myself as I took another sip of brandy.

"What if you're unable to perform?" Leo Temby asked seriously. "With that many people around, what if you can't?"

"I'm sure someone would be glad to fill your position," Owen told him with a smile and a clap on the back and my friends were all laughing again.

"Who watches?" I asked then and they all glanced up to me.

"What?" Archibald replied.

"Well, who watches? Is it people you know? Friends? Family? I wouldn't want you lot in the room, that's for sure."

They snorted.

"Just witnesses, I believe," Archibald answered, apparently deciding he was the expert on the topic as he was the only one who knew anyone who had recently done it. "I think there's a priest as well."

"Doesn't seem like a very priestly thing to do," I muttered into my glass.

"Well boys, if we're unsuccessful this season, I suppose we could always join the cloth. I hear there's good show to be had there," Owen mused and they all laughed once again.

"We'll have to see what scraps Kyrie here leaves behind," Myer said, grinning my way as he spoke. "Since he's the catch of the season yet again, it seems."

They all muttered their teasing agreement, elbowing me in the ribs and jostling me as friends did. I smiled for their benefit but my heart sank at the words. Surely, they wouldn't wait for my decision. I couldn't take the idea of yet even more people waiting for me to choose a wife. Because the truth was that I had already met all of the women who had debuted the previous year and I had read the list of names my sister had brought me of those debuting this year. And with every woman I considered, my confidence in my ability to choose one by the end of this season dwindled. Whoever might make a good wife would make a terrible Marchioness and whoever might make a good lady of the house would be dreadful to live with and impossible to love. Likely, I was asking for too much. Probably, I was looking for perfection where none could possibly exist. But I wasn't averse to flaws. In fact, I found them intriguing. I craved a woman with a depth of character and perfect, prim, and proper was not it. Yet every time I tried to peek behind the mask of society to get a glimpse at the woman underneath, I either did not like what I found or found nothing at all. I knew that, in the end, I would marry whatever woman was passable enough to secure my fortune and bear me heirs and I hated myself for it.

"Kyrie?" Archibald said then and I realized I had drifted away from the current conversation, losing myself in my thoughts. They had all risen from the table and were donning their top coats. "We said we should probably be on our way now."