I Love the Earl by Caroline Linden Read Free Book Online Page B

of Lord Feithe’s smoking room just to tell some brash earl to stop staring at her. Francis, in fact, would probably be all in favor of it, and go tell Dowling to make an offer for her.
    “Then it seems a hopeless case. The only way I can make him stop looking at me is to leave, and I thought we were to stay for dinner.”
    Miss Cuthbert closed her eyes in despair. “Miss de Lacey,” she said plaintively. “You must have a care for your standing!”
    “I don’t think it will hurt her much to have Lord Dowling watch her,” said Clarissa. “Everyone is well aware of what he wants, but really, if one must be pursued by fortune hunters, at least Dowling is young and handsome.”
    “Young and handsome do not make an eligible match,” snapped Miss Cuthbert.
    “He’s also an earl, and Mama tells me his property used to be one of the loveliest in England.” Clarissa shrugged good-naturedly when Margaret looked at her in surprise. “Mama had these wild, foolish ideas at one time. She had a list of every unmarried man in England, detailing advantages and disadvantages. Every night I say a prayer of thanks Freddie saved me before she could grow desperate and start pushing me into carriages with them.”
    “Surely she wouldn’t have,” exclaimed Margaret.
    Clarissa gave her a speaking look. “I hadn’t enough money for Dowling in any event. My father would have kept Mama from throwing me at him, just because Papa appreciates a well-laid table and Dowling is at his last farthing. Papa never would have been able to visit if I’d been Lady Dowling, making do with mutton and fish for dinner. Not that I would have minded, just once, seeing how ruthless and barbaric those Welshmen can be . . .”
    “Miss Stacpoole!” Miss Cuthbert was turning purple. “Remember yourself!”
    Clarissa pressed her lips together and made a face behind the older woman’s back. Margaret choked back a laugh. “What is so wrong with Lord Dowling, Miss Cuthbert?” she asked on impulse. From the corner of her eye she could see him, together with his peacock of a friend from the other night. That one glittered in the sunlight, with silver embroidery covering his sleeves to the elbow, while Lord Dowling’s unadorned coat was almost austere in comparison, but somehow the contrast made him seem more masculine. More approachable. More like someone she would know and like. Try as she might, she couldn’t forget what he said about them being alike in some way.
    Perhaps she had been a bit hard on Lord Dowling. None of her other suitors would be so brash as to admit they needed money; they preferred to pretend a sudden interest in her eyes or lips. No one had told her so bluntly he had something she craved as well: love, passion, friendship. Margaret wasn’t a nobleman’s daughter, raised from birth knowing her marriage would be a business transaction between families rather than a personal affinity between man and woman. Her parents had loved each other, and deep down, Margaret admitted she expected both more and less from marriage than Miss Cuthbert assumed. Less, in that she didn’t require a certain rank in a prospective husband, but more, in that she did require true affection—even love, if possible. She was exasperated by Miss Cuthbert’s favored suitors because they had impeccable dignity and rank, but little chance of engaging her interest, let alone her affections. Lord Dowling was the only one who even claimed he would try. She doubted he would succeed, but perhaps . . . just perhaps . . . she was a little curious how he planned to go about it.
    “His entire life has been a scandal, Miss de Lacey,” said Miss Cuthbert in answer to her question. “That is all you need to know.”
    Margaret glanced at Clarissa. “What sort of scandal?”
    Her companion looked down her nose. “It is unseemly to discuss it.” Behind her, Clarissa’s eyes were twinkling brightly, and she winked.
    Margaret smiled. “Very well. I wouldn’t