How to Marry a Marquis (19 page)

Pride stung, he said, "And how old is your brother?'

"He's eight, but-" Whatever she had meant to say was lost in her laughter.

James couldn't remember the last time someone had laughed at him, and he didn't particularly enjoy being compared to an eight-year-old boy. "I can assure you," he said, his voice pure ice,

"that-"

"Don't say any more," she said, laughing. "Really, James, one shouldn't strut like an aristocrat if

one cannot carry it off."

Never, in his entire career as an agent for the War Office, had he been more tempted to reveal his identity. He was itching to grab her and shake her and yell, "I'm a damned marquis, you little fool! I can be a perfectly good snob when I've a mind for it."

But on the other hand, there was something rather charming about her artless laughter. And

when she turned to him and said, "Oh, please don't be insulted, James. It's a compliment, really.

You're far too nice a person to be an aristocrat," he decided that this might actually be the most enchanting moment of his life.

His gaze was fixed upon an unremarkable patch of dirt, so she had to duck to move herself to his line of vision. "Forgive me?" she teased.

"I might find it in my heart...."

"If you don't forgive me, then I might have to practice my pugilism again."

He winced. "In that case, I definitely forgive you."

"I thought you might. Let's go home."

And he wondered why, when she said the word ''home," he actually thought it might apply to him as well.

Elizabeth was surprised how unconcerned she was about the state of her home when she and

James arrived at her doorstep. The green damask drapes were faded, and the moldings in need of a new coat of paint. The furniture was well-made but well-worn, with pillows strategically

placed over the areas most in need of recovering. All in all, the house had a slightly spare look.

There were precious few knickknacks; anything of any value had already made its way to

pawnbroker or traveling peddler.

Usually she felt the need to explain how her family had fallen on hard times, and to make it clear that they had lived in a much bigger house before her parents died. Lucas was a baronet, after all, and it was embarrassing that they should be reduced to such circumstances.

But with James she simply opened her door with a smile, certain he would see her little cottage the way she did-as a warm, comfortable home. He'd alluded to a well-born background himself, but he'd also said that his family had lost whatever fortunes they had once possessed, so he would understand her inability to purchase new things, her need to economize.

The house was-thankfully!-tidy, and the: air smelled of warm biscuits. "You're in luck today,"

Elizabeth said with a smile. "Susan must have decided to do some baking."

"It smells delicious," James said.

"Ginger biscuits. Here, why don't you follow me into the kitchen? We're terribly informal here, I'm afraid." She pushed open the door to the kitchen and ushered him in. When he didn't immediately seat himself, she scolded him and said, "You mustn't stand on attention on my account. Your hip is bruised and must pain you terribly. Besides, it's silly for you to stand there while I prepare tea."

He pulled out a chair and sat down, then asked, "Are those your siblings in the garden?"

Elizabeth pushed aside a curtain and peered out the window. "Yes, those are Lucas and Jane. I'm not certain where Susan is, although she must have been here recently. These biscuits are still warm." With a smile, she deposited a plateful in front of him. "I'll call Lucas and Jane. I'm sure they will want to meet you."

James watched with interest as she knocked three times on the windowpane. Within seconds, the kitchen door flew open and two little urchins appeared.

"Oh, it's you, Elizabeth," the little boy said. "I thought you were Susan."

"No, it's just me, I'm afraid. Have you any idea where she's gone off to?"

"She went to the market," the little boy replied. "With any luck someone will give us some meat for those turnips."

"Pity is more like it," the little girl muttered. "Why anyone would give up a perfectly good piece of meat for a perfectly wretched turnip is quite beyond me."

"I hate turnips," James said.

All three Hotchkisses turned their blond heads in his direction.

He added, "A friend of mine once told me that one can learn quite a bit about diligence from a turnip, but I never could figure out what she meant."

Elizabeth started choking on air.

"That sounds like a lot of rubbish to me," the little girl said.

"Lucas, Jane," Elizabeth interrupted loudly. "I would like you to meet Mr. Siddons. He is my friend, and he also works at Danbury House. He is Lady Danbury's new estate manager."

James stood and shook Lucas's hand with all the gravity he would afford the prime minister. He then turned to Jane and kissed her hand. Her entire face lit up, but more importantly, when he looked up at Elizabeth for approval, she was beaming.

"How do you do?" he murmured.

"Very well, thank you," Lucas said.

Jane didn't say anything. She was too busy gazing at the hand he'd kissed.

"I have invited Mr. Siddons for tea and biscuits," Elizabeth said. "Would the two of you like to join us?"

Normally James would have regretted the loss of this time alone with Elizabeth, but there was something positively heartwarming about sitting here in the kitchen with this little threesome who so obviously knew what it meant to be a family.

Elizabeth handed a biscuit to each of her siblings and asked, "What did you two do all day? Did you finish the lessons I laid out for you?"

Jane nodded. "I helped Lucas with his arithmetic."

"You did not!" Lucas sputtered, crumbs flying from his mouth. "I can do it all by myself."

"Maybe you can," Jane said with a superior shrug, "but you didn't."

"Elizabeth!" Lucas protested. "Did you hear what she said to me?"

But Elizabeth ignored the question, instead sniffing the air with obvious distaste. "What on earth is that smell?'

"I went fishing again," Lucas replied.

"You must go wash yourself immediately. Mr. Siddons is our guest, and it isn't polite to-"

"I don't mind a bit of a fishy smell," James interrupted. "Did you catch anything?'

"I almost had one that was thiiiiiissss big," Lucas said, spreading his arms nearly as wide as they would go, "but he got away."

"Isn't that always the case," James murmured sympathetically.

"I did catch two medium-sized ones, though. I left them in a bucket outside."

"They're quite disgusting," Jane put in, having lost interest in her hand.

Lucas turned on her in an instant. "You don't say that when you get to eat them for supper."

"When I eat them for supper," she shot back, "they don't have eyes."

"That's because Lizzie chops off their heads, you nodcock."

"Lucas," Elizabeth said loudly, "I really think you should go outside and wash off some of that smell."

"But Mr. Siddons-"

"-was just being polite," Elizabeth cut in. "Do it now, and change your clothing while you're about it."

Lucas grumbled, but he did as he was told.

"He's such a trial sometimes," Jane said with a world-weary sigh.

James had to cough to keep from laughing.

Jane took this as agreement and further explained, "He is only eight."

"And how old are you?"

"Nine," she replied, as if that made all the difference in the world.

"Jane," Elizabeth said from over at the hearth, where she was putting water on for tea, "may I speak with you for a moment?"

Jane politely excused herself and moved to her sister's side. James pretended not to watch as Elizabeth leaned down and whispered something in her sister's ear. Jane nodded and ran off.

"What was that all about?" he had to ask.

"I thought she might do with a washing up as well, but I didn't want to embarrass her by asking in front of you."

He cocked his head. "Do you really think she would have been embarrassed by that?'

"James, she's a nine-year-old girl who thinks she's fifteen. You're a handsome man. Of course she'd be embarrassed."

"Well, you would know better than I," he replied, trying not to let his pleasure show at her having complimented his looks.

Elizabeth motioned to the plate of biscuits. "Aren't you going to try one?"

He took one and bit into it. "Delicious."

"Aren't they? I don't know what Susan does with them. I've never managed to make mine come out as nice." She took one and bit into it.

James stared up at her, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of her nibbling away. Her tongue darted out to catch an errant crumb, and-

"I'm back!"

He sighed. One of life's most unexpected erotic moments, interrupted by an eight-year-old boy.

Lucas grinned up at him. "Do you like to fish?"

"It's one of my favorite sports."

"I should like to hunt, but Elizabeth won't let me."

"Your sister is a very wise woman. A boy your age should not handle a gun without the proper supervision."

Lucas pulled a face. "I know, but that's not why she doesn't let me do it. It's because she's too softhearted."

"If not wanting to watch you mangle a poor, innocent rabbit," Elizabeth cut in, "means that I am too softhearted, then-"

"But you eat rabbit," Lucas argued. "I've seen you."

Elizabeth crossed her arms and grumbled, "It's different when it has ears."

James laughed. "You sound like young Jane with her aversion to fish eyes."

"No, no, no," Elizabeth insisted, "it's entirely different. If you recall, I am the one who always cuts off the fish heads. So clearly I am not squeamish."

"Then what's the difference?" he prodded.

"Yes," Lucas said, crossing his arms and cocking his head in a perfect imitation of James,

"what's the difference?"

"I don't have to answer this!"

James turned to Lucas and said behind his hand, "She knows she hasn't a leg to stand on."

"I heard that!"

Lucas just giggled.

James exchanged a very male glance with the little boy. "Women do tend to get annoyingly sentimental when it comes to small, furry creatures."

Elizabeth kept her eyes on the stove, pretending to fix the tea. It had been so long since Lucas had met a man he could look up to and admire. She worried constantly that she was depriving

him of something important by raising him herself, with only sisters for company. If she'd

allowed any of her relations to take him in, he still wouldn't have had a father, but at least he would have had an adult male in his life.

"What's the biggest fish you've ever caught?" Lucas asked.

"On land or on sea?''

Lucas actually poked him in the arm when he said, "You can't catch a fish on land!"

"I meant on a pond."

The little boy's eyes grew wide. "You've fished on the sea?"

"Of course."

Elizabeth looked at him with a bemused glance. His tone was so matter-of-fact.

"Were you on a ship?" Lucas asked.

"No, it was more of a sailboat."

A sailboat? Elizabeth shook her head as she pulled some dishes out of the cupboard. James must have well-connected friends.

"How big was the fish?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe about this big." James measured a length of about two feet with his hands.

"Hells bells!" Lucas yelled.

Elizabeth nearly dropped a saucer. "Lucas!"

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth," Lucas said without much thought, and without even turning to face her.

His attention never wavered from James as he asked, "Did he put up a fight?"

James leaned down and whispered something in Lucas's ear. Elizabeth arched her neck and strained her ears, but she couldn't make out what he said.

Lucas nodded somewhat glumly, then stood up, crossed the room to Elizabeth, and gave her a

little bow. Elizabeth was so surprised that this time she did drop what she was holding.

Thankfully, it was just a spoon.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth," Lucas said. "It isn't polite to use such language in front of a lady."

"Thank you, Lucas." She looked over at James, who offered her a secret smile. He tilted his head toward the boy, so she leaned down, handed Lucas a plate of biscuits, and said, "Why don't you and Jane go and find Susan? And you may eat these biscuits on the way to town."

Lucas's eyes lit up at the sight of the biscuits, and he quickly grabbed them and left the room, leaving Elizabeth openmouthed in his wake. "What did you say to him?" she asked in amazement.

James shrugged. "I can't tell you."

"But you must. Whatever it was, it was terribly effective."

He sat back, looking terribly pleased with himself. "Some things are best left between men."

Elizabeth frowned playfully, trying to decide whether she ought to press him further, when she noticed a darkening stain near his eye. "Oh, I completely forgot!" she blurted out. "Your eye! I must find something to put on that."

"It will be fine, I'm sure. I've had far worse injuries with far less attention paid to them."

But she wasn't listening, as she shuffled hurriedly through her kitchen in search of something cool.

"You needn't go to any trouble," he tried again.

She looked up, which surprised him. He'd thought she was far too involved in her search to be listening, let alone responding to him.

"I won't argue with you about this," she stated. "So you might as well save your breath."

James realized she spoke the truth. Elizabeth Hotchkiss wasn't the sort to leave projects

unfinished or responsibilities unmet. And if she insisted upon tending to his bruised eye, there was very little he-a peer of the realm, a man twice her size-could do to stop her.

"If you must," he murmured, trying to sound at least a little bit put out by her ministrations.

She twisted her hands around something in the sink, then turned around and held it out to him.