I drummed my fingers against the desk. He was late. And that was making me increasingly nervous.

Had I not been a warm, welcoming hostess? Had I not treated him with every kindness? Had I not done enough to earn his favor?

There was a knock at the door and I hastily rose to my feet, smoothing my dress as I tried to repress my anger toward his lateness. With a sigh, I finished composing myself, and threw open the doors.

“Ah, my lord,” I said, as pleasantly as I could manage.

“Forgive my tardiness,” he bowed as he entered the house.

“Well,” I smiled to myself as I shut the door. “How can I not, my lord? I’ve already prepared tea!” I gestured toward the parlor.

“Please,” he removed his hat. “It’s Marcus.”

“Marcus,” I tried it out as I turned to the parlor. “Join me.”

He accepted, coming to sit beside me, him on the settee, me on my chair. I served him as he explained himself: “I would have been here earlier but, I’m afraid I slept in. It was an excellent party, my lady. I haven’t had such fun in so long. And I have never been so exhausted!”

I laughed behind my teacup. “Well, I am pleased to hear it, my lord- Marcus.”

He smiled. “And then, well, I spent the morning writing to my daughter.”

I nearly choked on my tea. “Your- daughter?”

“Yes, my Ella,” he smiled, almost dreamily. “I hate to leave her. But she accepts my absence, so long as I write.”

I fell silent. My hopes were crushed instantly. When we were introduced, my associates called him a “very wealthy, very eligible bachelor,” not a loving father. All my attempts to impress him, to succeed in making his wealth my own, were snuffed out instantly. I managed to recover: “And your wife?”

He then became quiet: “My wife. She... was lost to us. Three years ago.”

Hope sparked in my chest as I sat my teacup on the table. “Oh, do forgive me. I didn’t realize-“

“No harm done,” he assured me. “What about your family?”

I paused. How should I play this? If I continued to show off my social prowess and skill as a hostess, I might impress him. But if I compared our situations as single parents, I might earn his sympathy. I chose the latter: “I lost my husband almost ten years ago. My daughters and I have been living off what was left of his savings.” I turned away from him with a sigh. It was the first time I had admitted my hardships to anyone. It was a lot more strenuous than I had imagined.

He looked at my hand, considering grabbing it.

I hoped he would. But, perhaps I performed my “proper lady” act too well.

“Ella and I live comfortably,” he finally said. “If you ever need help...-“

“Oh, I couldn’t,” I held a hand over my chest. “You are too kind, Marcus.”

He smiled a little. “If I learned nothing else from my wife-“

I swallowed. I had heard enough about his dead wife. “I’m hosting another dinner party this weekend. Perhaps dear Ella would like to join us?”

His face brightened. “I would so enjoy that. But I could never allow her to make that journey.” He got comfortable in his seat. “Perhaps when she is older. How old did you say your daughters are?”

“They are twins,” I explained. “Both thirteen.”

He beamed. “How wonderful! As is my Ella!”

“Really?” I feigned excitement. “Well, we must introduce them!” Honestly, what had I gotten myself into? I didn’t want someone else’s child! I wanted to save myself from financial ruin! To be married and rich and aristocratic again. Instead, I was walking myself into a job as a nanny.

“Wonderful,” he said, standing. “But, I’m afraid I must bid you adieu. I have a ship to catch come midday.”

“Oh?” I followed him to the door.

He turned back to me, taking his hat in one hand and my hand in the other: “Don’t worry,” he kissed the back of my palm. “I will return in time for your party.”

As he left and I stood in the doorway watching, I realized I had gone too far to quit now - he had awakened a feeling within me the that I believed died with my Francis ten years ago.

There was no question: I would marry Lord Tremaine within the year.