The Dutiful Rake by Elizabeth Rolls Read Free Book Online Page A

uncaring. Yet this was the face he always presented to the world.
    Meg thought he sounded bored, as though she had been a complete and utter nuisance. Which, she admitted, she probably had. Still…perhaps she ought to hold on to her memory of Marc…so kind and tender…yes, that would be a better memory to cherish in the lonely years ahead. Even if it had been a dream, it was better than the icy reality before her.
    Marcus cleared his throat. What on earth had brought that odd smile to her face? It was perhaps the loveliest smile he had ever seen, shy and considering, as though she smiled at something inexpressibly dear and private.
    With a mental snort for this whimsical flight, he said, ‘I am informed that you had the intention of taking up a post as a nursery governess in this neighbourhood.’
    Acutely Meg picked up his use of the past tense and replied firmly, ‘Yes, my lord, the Vicar arranged it for me. That is my intention.’
    Just as acute, Marcus heard the slight stress on the tense. Flatly he said, ‘It will not do. You are unsuited for such a position and I will not countenance it.’ As soon as the words had left his mouth he wondered if he had made a serious tactical error.
    Meg’s eyes widened and she could practically feel her hackles rise. Having just buried one loathsome guardian, she was not about to submit to another. Especially not one who had not the slightest right to wield authority over her. She opened her mouth to administer a blistering snub and reconsidered. Had he, after all, found out who she was? Was that why he considered her unfit to have charge of children? Better to find out what he meant without losing her temper. If she riled him, he could make it impossible for her to find employment.
    ‘What then, my lord, do you recommend for me?’ Her voice was sweet and reasonable, her eyes modestly downcast. Meg had learned long ago that it was generally best to find out the lie of the land without giving the least hint of her own thoughts, leave alone her feelings.
    It took Marcus in completely. Phew! He had thought she was about to rip up at him. Doubtless she was just surprised. Relieved, he outlined his plans for her, dwelling on the pleasure it would give his sister to entertain her indefinitely, pointing out that, with a respectable sum settled on her, she might even make a creditable marriage.
    She listened, unbearably tempted. To visit London, be able to buy a pretty dress, perhaps marry and have her own babies rather than easing her longing in caring for another woman’s children. But it was not possible. Despite his lordship’s kindly untruth—yes, he was kind after all under the icy exterior: in telling her Cousin Samuel had asked him to settle money on her, he had tried to spare her pride—she knew it for a lie.
    And she seriously doubted that his lordship’s sister would wish to have a stranger foisted on to her.Certainly not one with no pretensions to fashion, wealth or even beauty. Certainly not once she knew just who Miss Marguerite Fellowes was. Obviously his lordship could not possibly know or he would never have suggested such a thing. And once he knew then she would be out on her ear. Even her own family had kicked her out. No, Miss Fellowes preferred to remove herself voluntarily.
    For a moment the thought occurred to her that she could take the money and run before he found out the truth, but she instantly dismissed that as dishonourable. She could not take advantage of his kindness and ignorance so shamefully.
    Resolutely she stifled her longings and said very calmly, ‘No.’ Then, as an afterthought, ‘No, thank you.’
    Had she protested angrily Marcus would have believed she was merely making a token resistance, trying to make him think she couldn’t possibly accept such generosity, when all the time she intended to capitulate at the right moment. The quiet, unemotional voice in which she had uttered her carefully polite refusal told him at once that she