exceptional marriages.”
“Indeed we could. However, he wishes to marry us off as quickly as possible. Tomorrow would not be too soon for him.” Marianne leaned closer in a confidential manner. “It appears our demands on his attention hinder his own efforts to find a bride.”
“I see,” Jocelyn said thoughtfully.
Marianne narrowed her eyes. “Exactly what do you see?”
“Well,” Jocelyn words were measured, “if indeed he is looking for a bride, he has three eligible matches right under his roof.”
“Oh? I suppose you’re willing to step forward and sacrifice yourself on the altar of matrimony? After all, Helmsley will be the Duke of Roxborough one day. Precisely the kind of match you have always wanted.” The words came out much sharper than Marianne had intended and she cringed at the sound of them. Why on earth was the thought of Jocelyn setting her cap for Thomas so disquieting?
Jocelyn paid no heed to her sister’s tone and studied the dancers with narrowed eyes, as if that would somehow bring them into focus. “Don’t be ridiculous. Duke or not, I was serious when I said I have no intention of marrying during my first season. To settle on Helmsley at this point would be akin to picking the first apple of the year without regard to the sweeter fruit to come.”
“Still, that first apple can be quite tasty,” Marianne said under her breath, recalling the intriguing flavor of brandy on warm male lips.
“No, I wasn’t thinking of Helmsley for myself at all.” Jocelyn cast her a sly smile. “I was thinking about you.”
“Me?” Marianne started. “I have no desire to marry this season or any other. And certainly no desire to marry Helmsley.”
“Oh, you needn’t actually marry him,” Jocelyn said blithely. “But if you occupy his time, he’ll be far too busy to pay much notice to anything Becky or I do.”
“I hate to spoil what is an impressive and obviously well thought out plan, but it won’t work. I am not at all the type of woman he is looking for.”
“Are you certain?”
I want a woman who will be biddable and soft-spoken. Marianne nodded and ignored a twinge of what might have been regret. “Quite.”
“Pity.” Jocelyn thought for a moment, then her expression brightened. “Very well then, you can still keep him busy trying to find a match for you and you alone.”
“And why would he want to do that?”
“Why, we will make certain he understands we couldn’t possibly marry before you since you’re the oldest.” Jocelyn smiled wickedly. “We’ll tell him it’s a family tradition. That it simply wouldn’t be right if we married before you. It would be . . . rude.”
“Oh, and we can’t have that,” Marianne said dryly.
“We’ll make him believe that if he can marry you off, Becky and I will fall in line right behind you and he will be rid of us all.”
“Lambs to the matrimonial slaughter?”
“Exactly.” Jocelyn nodded with satisfaction.
“I see. However, I do have one question. I understand the benefits of your proposal for you and Becky, but,” Marianne crossed her arms over her chest, “what, dear sister, are the benefits for me?”
“I would think that’s obvious.” Jocelyn’s expression was smug.
“Obvious? I can’t imagine . . . ” She stared at Thomas, a tall, broad-shouldered, confident figure in perfect command of the steps.
“Think about it, Marianne. Whether you are carrying on a flirtation with Helmsley or the dozens of suitors he will no doubt throw at you—”
“I would have no end of amusing experiences from which to draw on for my stories. No end of . . . adventures,” Marianne murmured. A man in perfect command of his life.
“Indeed. And isn’t Helmsley in truth—”
“The kind of man I can write about,” she said more to herself than her sister. A man in perfect command of his world. The kind of man I can—
“And we will be free to enjoy the season without interference from anyone other
“Indeed we could. However, he wishes to marry us off as quickly as possible. Tomorrow would not be too soon for him.” Marianne leaned closer in a confidential manner. “It appears our demands on his attention hinder his own efforts to find a bride.”
“I see,” Jocelyn said thoughtfully.
Marianne narrowed her eyes. “Exactly what do you see?”
“Well,” Jocelyn words were measured, “if indeed he is looking for a bride, he has three eligible matches right under his roof.”
“Oh? I suppose you’re willing to step forward and sacrifice yourself on the altar of matrimony? After all, Helmsley will be the Duke of Roxborough one day. Precisely the kind of match you have always wanted.” The words came out much sharper than Marianne had intended and she cringed at the sound of them. Why on earth was the thought of Jocelyn setting her cap for Thomas so disquieting?
Jocelyn paid no heed to her sister’s tone and studied the dancers with narrowed eyes, as if that would somehow bring them into focus. “Don’t be ridiculous. Duke or not, I was serious when I said I have no intention of marrying during my first season. To settle on Helmsley at this point would be akin to picking the first apple of the year without regard to the sweeter fruit to come.”
“Still, that first apple can be quite tasty,” Marianne said under her breath, recalling the intriguing flavor of brandy on warm male lips.
“No, I wasn’t thinking of Helmsley for myself at all.” Jocelyn cast her a sly smile. “I was thinking about you.”
“Me?” Marianne started. “I have no desire to marry this season or any other. And certainly no desire to marry Helmsley.”
“Oh, you needn’t actually marry him,” Jocelyn said blithely. “But if you occupy his time, he’ll be far too busy to pay much notice to anything Becky or I do.”
“I hate to spoil what is an impressive and obviously well thought out plan, but it won’t work. I am not at all the type of woman he is looking for.”
“Are you certain?”
I want a woman who will be biddable and soft-spoken. Marianne nodded and ignored a twinge of what might have been regret. “Quite.”
“Pity.” Jocelyn thought for a moment, then her expression brightened. “Very well then, you can still keep him busy trying to find a match for you and you alone.”
“And why would he want to do that?”
“Why, we will make certain he understands we couldn’t possibly marry before you since you’re the oldest.” Jocelyn smiled wickedly. “We’ll tell him it’s a family tradition. That it simply wouldn’t be right if we married before you. It would be . . . rude.”
“Oh, and we can’t have that,” Marianne said dryly.
“We’ll make him believe that if he can marry you off, Becky and I will fall in line right behind you and he will be rid of us all.”
“Lambs to the matrimonial slaughter?”
“Exactly.” Jocelyn nodded with satisfaction.
“I see. However, I do have one question. I understand the benefits of your proposal for you and Becky, but,” Marianne crossed her arms over her chest, “what, dear sister, are the benefits for me?”
“I would think that’s obvious.” Jocelyn’s expression was smug.
“Obvious? I can’t imagine . . . ” She stared at Thomas, a tall, broad-shouldered, confident figure in perfect command of the steps.
“Think about it, Marianne. Whether you are carrying on a flirtation with Helmsley or the dozens of suitors he will no doubt throw at you—”
“I would have no end of amusing experiences from which to draw on for my stories. No end of . . . adventures,” Marianne murmured. A man in perfect command of his life.
“Indeed. And isn’t Helmsley in truth—”
“The kind of man I can write about,” she said more to herself than her sister. A man in perfect command of his world. The kind of man I can—
“And we will be free to enjoy the season without interference from anyone other
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