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desk and steepled his fingers. “You were telling me about our proxy marriage…”
    “Oh, yes. When Nathaniel realized Papa would only leave the business to my uncle or my husband on my behalf, he tried changing Papa’s mind.” A bitterness crept into her voice. “I could have told him that wouldn’t work. Papa has always been set on my marrying well. He was determined to show his family that my Senecan blood didn’t matter. He hired me tutors and dance masters and bought me guides to deportment…”
    She sighed. “But since Nathaniel wouldn’t marry me, Papa insisted on sticking to his plan to leave the business to his own brother. So to gain any part of my inheritance, I’d have had to go live with my uncle.”
    “Not an appealing notion, I presume.”

    A bleak look shadowed her dark eyes. “Papa’s family disowned him years ago for marrying Mama. I’m sure my uncle would take me in just to have my help with Mercer Medicinal, but I would be treated like…well—”
    “A poor relation. Or worse.”
    She nodded. “Papa didn’t really want that, but he didn’t think I could run the business on my own, either. That’s why he was so eager to see me marry.”
    “So when Nat couldn’t assuage him, I was offered up as the sacrificial lamb.”
    “You could look at it that way, I suppose,” she said testily. “Anyway, two months after you left, Nathaniel claimed to have received a letter from you in which you sang my praises.” Fiddling with his coat, she added in a soft voice, “I suppose I shouldn’t have believed him, but…well…you and I did have some pleasant conversations, you must admit. And I thought…that is…”
    “Yes, I can see how you would have.” Though he’d never made romantic overtures to her, he’d certainly been friendly enough to give credence to Nat’s tales.
    “Of course, there was also that time when you teased me about how my ‘naive American optimism’ might one day lead me into ruin.” She glanced away, a faint flush staining her cheeks. “It appears you were right. Congratulations.”
    “I assure you I don’t like being right in this instance, Miss Mercer. Especially when my brother was the instrument of your ruin.”
    With a dismissive wave of her hand, she went on. “Anyway, Nathaniel told Papa that in exchange for half ownership in the company—with the other half to be yours as my husband—he would arrange our marriage. But the wedding would have to take place by proxy, given Papa’s dire illness and your difficulty with leaving England.”
    “Your father agreed to such an odd proposal?”
    “Apparently he, too, suffered from a ‘naive American optimism.’” When Spencer scowled at her sarcasm, her tone softened. “I suspect he felt he had no choice. He was determined to see me taken care of before he died. And he approved of you.”
    “I’m sure he did,” he said tightly. “I suspect you don’t get many wealthy viscounts passing through Philadelphia.”
    She gazed at him with the betrayed look of a wounded doe. “I thought you knew us better than that, but apparently not.” She tilted her chin up at him. “I’m not a fortune hunter, my lord. I do have a dowry…or I did until your brother took it.” The longer she talked, the higher that proud chin of hers rose. “Papa was less interested in your title and wealth than in your character. He approved of you because he thought you were a nice man. Little did he know. I’m sure if he had realized—”
    “I am suitably chastened, Miss Mercer,” he said, faintly amused. “Pray continue.”
    Giving a little sniff, she hesitated. When she finally went on, she wouldn’t look at him. “We had the proxy wedding, and your brother stood in for you.”
    “Nobody questioned it?”
    Her head shot up, and fire sparked in her eyes. “Why should they? Everybody had met you. There were the letters proposing marriage. Your own brother championed the match. What was there to question?”
    “I see