You’ve Got the Marquess’s Mail (The Brelsford Brothers #2)

Chapter One

Six Months Ago

Lord Hugo Brelsford took another healthy gulp of the brandy sloshing in his cup and raised a brow at his younger brother, Arthur, who had just wagered a very large sum of money on a rather silly prediction.

“I am telling you, Hugo, Edward will never marry. He is too happily confirmed in his bachelorhood. Which means it will fall to you, dear brother, to carry on our family line.”

Hugo just shook his head. “You are far too unobservant, Arthur. And it will lose you your wager.”

Arthur frowned. “Explain yourself.”

“Have you not noticed how besotted our brother is with one Mrs. Selena MacLaren?”

Arthur’s frown deepened and Hugo snorted.

“He has spoken of nothing else since the day they met. He ensures he is at every event she may possibly attend and mopes about if she does not. And his spirits are impossibly high when he does encounter her, no matter how inconsequential or disastrous the interaction. Mark my words, they will be engaged within a fortnight.”

“Bah,” Arthur scoffed. “Even if that were true, there are far too many unsavory rumors about the woman for our father to ever agree to the match, even if the lady herself were to agree. Our brother may be besotted, but that does not mean the lady shares his affections. By all accounts, it is the opposite. Did she not literally run from him at the art gallery only a few weeks ago?”

Now Hugo frowned, his confidence in his assertation foundering. “Yes. But that does not mean—”

“If she doesn’t find a husband,” a slurred voice rumbled from across the room, “I will be responsible for her upkeep for the rest of her life. And who wants that responsibility? She’s a handful.

Enough to drive a man mad. Likely why she is still unwed.

This is a situation that must be remedied, post haste. ”

Hugo and Arthur glanced over to see who was causing the ruckus. Hugo groaned when he recognized him.

“Henry Girard,” Arthur muttered. “That blowhard. What’s he blathering about now?”

“His unwed sister apparently.” Hugo chuckled. “He has been focused on little else but finding a suitable match for her since their father died. Though the lady, by all accounts, has been resisting his efforts. It seems as though we have a similar problem.”

“Eh?” Henry said, having wandered closer. They must not have been as circumspect about their whispering as they’d thought. “Similar problem? I thought your sisters were all married. Do you have another one somewhere who will be a spinster haunting your house for the rest of your days?”

Hugo frowned. He didn’t remember if he had ever seen Miss Girard. If he had, it hadn’t been memorable. Still, the way her brother spoke of her did not sit well with him. “That seems rather uncharitable of you. I’m sure your sister is a fine woman.”

Henry’s eyes narrowed. “She is. She is intelligent and relatively attractive, I suppose. But she is also stubborn and opinionated and…outspoken.” He grimaced. “She’s rejected every suitor I’ve suggested, and for the most ridiculous reasons.”

He sat down—without being invited—but Arthur and Hugo just glanced at each other without saying anything. The man was too drunk and focused on his own grievances to likely listen, in any case.

“One was too old. Another too ugly.” Henry snorted. “As if such things matter at all. They were both wealthy, landed gentlemen. Fine matches that would have offered security.” He took another drink and shook his head. “The good Lord save me from obstinate women.”

“Yes,” Hugo said, cocking a brow. “The nerve of them wishing to have an attractive spouse of their own age who will not repulse them at every turn instead of simply settling for a comfortable bank account.”

“Exactly,” Henry said, jabbing his finger at him…and obviously not registering the thick layer of sarcasm with which Hugo spoke.

“Do you have any unmarried sisters left?” Henry said, leaning forward with sudden intensity. “I am looking for a wife myself.” He sat back and drained the rest of his glass before raising it and waving it about a bit, apparently attempting to flag someone down to refill it for him.

“Are you now?” Hugo asked, his lips twitching.

“I am not nearly so picky as my sister,” Henry continued. “I do not care about her looks or age. As long as she is still young enough to bear an heir and comes with a healthy dowry, that is.” He chortled while Hugo and Arthur gave him twin looks of horror.

No sister of theirs would ever go near this man. Luckily, none were available.

“No, I’m afraid not,” Hugo finally answered.

Henry’s face fell. “Then to whom were you referring?”

“Our eldest brother,” Arthur reluctantly said.

Hugo could see the moment the possibilities registered in Henry’s mind. Henry paused, a sudden gleam in his eyes. “Ah yes. Lord Edward. Well now, perhaps, as we do share a common problem after all, we could be of help to each other.”

Hugo and Arthur glanced at each other. The cheek of the man! He didn’t need to utter another word for Hugo to know exactly what he was angling for. He should put a stop to any notions Henry might harbor along those lines. Then again, it could be so much more amusing to play along.

“How so?” he asked, glancing at Arthur from the side of his eye when his brother’s head jerked in his direction.

“Well, obviously, I have a sister in need of a husband. You have a brother in need of a wife. My sister is a spinster, true, but not so old as all of that. Barely five and twenty, and healthy as a horse.”

Arthur’s eyebrows hit his hairline, so surprised was he. “And it is your contention that an untitled, outspoken, opinionated spinster of five and twenty is an appropriate match for the heir to the Duke of Haltham?”

Henry slammed his glass down on the table.

“My sister may not be titled, but our family is wealthy and well-respected. I have been assured of my father’s seat in Parliament, a seat members of my family have now held for four generations.

We may not be as noble as the Duke of Haltham, but my sister would not muddy your bloodline, Lord Arthur. It is an insult to suggest otherwise.”

“Of course, I assure you he meant no offense,” Hugo said, keeping his voice level, not only to keep from upsetting the man further, but also because he sincerely did regret the insult which Arthur had just levied.

The Girards were, indeed, a respectable and wealthy family.

Just not quite as highborn as the Duke and Duchess of Haltham may be aiming for their heir.

The other women who had been suggested were all titled daughters of nobility.

Still, Miss Girard was respectable. On the other hand, Henry’s entire tone and demeanor were off-putting, if not downright offensive.

He was all but offering his sister up for sale, based solely on the Brelsford’s bloodline and status.

Though, to be fair, that was the Marriage Mart in a nutshell. Most people had the grace to not be so blatant about it, however.

Henry puffed out his chest. “Then you surely have no objection to a possible match between my sister and your brother.”

Hugo raised his brows. The man must be more drunk than he thought. Even if he, Hugo, had no objection—and frankly, he did, based solely on Henry himself—he had no say over who his elder brother married. His parents, who did have a large say, had been unable to persuade the man to marry for years.

But considering the amount of brandy Henry had consumed, he likely wouldn’t remember much of this evening by the next day. And Hugo never let a chance to amuse himself slip by. No harm in having a little fun with the man.

“Of course not,” Hugo said. “In fact, Edward has such confidence in our judgement that he has tasked us specifically with finding him a suitable match. Your sister seems as if she could be quite compatible with him. In fact, I grow more certain by the minute that a match between them could be arranged.”

Henry clapped. “Wonderful news! I am glad to hear it.” He pushed away from the table and staggered to his feet. “I shall look forward to speaking with you further on this matter.”

He gave them an unsteady bow and swayed back to his table where his raucous friends awaited. “I am in the mood to celebrate!” he shouted before being swallowed up by his group.

Hugo chuckled, but Arthur stared at him, nonplussed. Yes, perhaps he had gone a bit too far. His own brain was more than a bit befuddled by drink.

“Are you mad?” Arthur asked.

“Quite possibly,” Hugo said, blowing out a breath.

“Oh, do not be so serious, Arthur. There’s no harm in having a little fun.

I offered nothing of real substance. Any rational person would understand I have no authority to arrange a match for my elder brother.

Henry may be too drunk to realize that now, but once he sobers, he will.

If he even remembers any of this, which is highly doubtful. ”

Arthur just shook his head. “You had better hope so. He seems the sort to see insult where none is meant. I have no doubt he will cause trouble if he takes any of this seriously.”

Well, that was true enough. Perhaps he should have kept his mouth shut.

Hugo drained the last bit of brandy in his glass and stood. “Let us depart then, before I get us into more trouble. We shall just hope Mr. Girard has forgotten all about this conversation by morning.”