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And he had no intention of joining their ranks. She had been after him for years now to choose a bride and start a nursery. Given that, he was not at all confident that her threat was an empty one.
    “It certainly puts wedding a stranger into the proper perspective.” Marcus blew a long breath.
    “And places poverty in an entirely different light as well.”
    “Not true poverty,” Reggie said and settled back in his chair. “After all, it’s not as if you will be turned out to beg on the streets.”
    “No, I suppose not. We shall only face that genteel type of noble poverty, despairing and quite pathetic. The kind that takes men like us, good sorts, really, with no bigger vices than overindulgence in spirits or gaming or women, and makes us hunters of fortune. Chasing after eligible brides for no better reason than their wealth can save the way we are accustomed to living or rescue the heritage of an honorable name or—”
    “Or keep our mothers from invading our lives.” Reggie saluted him with his glass.
    “Indeed.” Marcus raised his own glass and shook his head. “What in the name of all that’s holy am I going to do about this?”
    Berkley swirled his brandy and grimaced. “My advice would be to drink a good deal.”
    “Thank you. I have already considered that.”
    “I also think”—Reggie drew a deep breath and met his friend’s gaze—“you should marry Miss Townsend.”
    “Et tu, Brutus?” Marcus raised a brow.
    “You don’t appear to have many options. Besides, it’s not as if you’d be giving up a great deal. I daresay the model of female perfection you have spoken of in the past does not exist. And even if it should, well”—Reggie shrugged—“it might do you no good. There’s every chance you would not recognize it.”
    “What?”
    “You are unfailingly calm, cool, and collected. You have never come close to the altar, nor have you ever made a fool of yourself over a woman. You, old man, have never been in love, at least not so I’
    ve noticed.”
    “Are you saying I’m cold?” Marcus stared in disbelief. “Unemotional?
    “Not at all. But you may be too cautious for love. Too rational. Perhaps even too intellectual. You think about things far and away too much. Your mind has always ruled your heart. You have a firm idea of what you want and you will allow nothing less than that perfection to serve. On the other hand, I—”
    “You fall in love in the blink of an eye.”
    “Indeed I do.”
    “And have had your heart broken how many times?”
    “Far too many to mention.” Reggie grinned in an unrepentant manner. “And each and every heartbreak well worth it. The anticipation, the high emotion, and best of all, old man, the untold possibilities. It is like tumbling over a precipice with the sure and certain knowledge that you can fly.”
    “I have been close to that precipice.” Marcus ignored the defensive note in his voice. He certainly had nothing to be defensive about.
    Reggie snorted. “But you’ve yet to take the plunge. Admittedly you have approached the brink on occasion. I distinctly remember a few years ago and a quite delectable widow.”
    “Pity her dead husband chose to return to life.” Marcus winced at the memory. Who would have imagined that after nearly a half dozen years, a man thought to have died in Spain would miraculously return to life?
    “And then last year,” Reggie continued. “I believe you were becoming more than a bit smitten with Marianne Shel—”
    “Lady Helmsley now, Reggie,” Marcus said firmly. “And I believe you too were more than a bit smitten.”

    Marcus had long ago admitted to himself that he had indeed come close to falling in love with the charming bluestocking. It was both poor luck and bad timing that the young woman was already in the process of falling in love with one of his oldest friends, the Marquess of Helmsley. Marcus found himself in the odd position of taking part in a bizarre but successful plot to