Read Online At Last Comes Love by Mary Balogh - Free Book Online Page B

made public,” she said.

    “It will be very soon, however,” the earl said, squeezing her shoulder.
    “We have decided to wed within the next fortnight. When one has discovered the partner with whom one wishes to spend the rest of one's life, why wait, after all? Many a prospective match comes to grief because the couple—or one member of it—waits too long.”

    It occurred to Margaret that he really might be serious.

    But how could he possibly be? They had just met.

    He could surely not intend to marry her within two weeks.

    She did not even know who the Earl of Sheringford was . Apart from being heir to the Marquess of Claverbrook, that was.

    She felt one of the earl's knuckles brushing against her cheek and turned her head to look at him. His eyes, she could see now, were a very dark brown. Was it the color, almost indistinguishable from black, that gave the extraordinary impression that he could look inside her and see her very soul?

    “I must offer my felicitations, then,” Crispin said, executing another bow. “I will seek you out for a dance later, Meg.”

    “I shall look forward to it,” she said.

    He turned without another glance at the earl and strode away with stiff military bearing.

    “He is not pleased,” the earl said. “Is the Spanish wife still alive?”

    “No,” Margaret said. “He is a widower.”

    “He was hoping, then,” he said, “to rekindle an old flame with you.
    You have had a fortunate escape, however. He looks very dashing in his uniform, I daresay, but he has a weak chin.”

    “He does not!” Margaret protested.

    “He does,” the earl insisted. “If you are still in love with him, Maggie, you had better be careful not to allow yourself to be lured back to him. You would be wasting your sensibilities upon a weak man.”

    “I do not still love him,” she said firmly. “His actions persuaded me long ago of the weakness of his character. And I do not recall granting you permission to use my given name, my lord. Especially a shortened form that no one has ever used before.”

    “A new name for a new life,” he said. “To me you will always be Maggie. Who is the man to whom you expected to be betrothed tonight?”

    “The Marquess of Allingham,” she said, and frowned. That information, at least, she might have withheld.

    “Allingham?” He raised his eyebrows. “Your next dancing partner?
    That is interesting. But you have had another fortunate escape. If he is as I remember him, he is a dull dog.”

    “He is not ,” she protested. “He is charming and amiable and a polished conversationalist.”

    “My point exactly,” he said. “A dull dog. You will be far better off with me.”

    She looked steadily at him, and he looked as steadily back.

    Oh, dear God, she thought, he really was serious.

    The edges of her vision darkened again. But this was not the moment to faint. She picked up her fan and somehow found her hand steady enough to open it and waft it before her face once more.
    She drew in lungfuls of warm, heavily fragrant air.

    “Why?” she asked him. “Even if you can meet a complete stranger and be convinced after one glance that she is the one lady above all others whom you wish to marry, why must you marry her within two weeks?”

    For the first time there was a slight curve to his lips that might almost be described as a smile.

    “If I am not wed within the next fourteen days,” he told her, “I am going to be utterly penniless until my grand-father shuffles off this mortal coil, which may well not be for another twenty or thirty years.
    Apart from some rheumatism, he appears to be in excellent health.
    He will be eighty in two weeks’ time, and yesterday he summoned me into his presence and issued an ultimatum—marry before his birthday or be cut off from the rents and profits of the home where I grew up and from which the heirs traditionally draw their income. I was raised as a gentleman with expectations of wealth and