How to Manage a Marquess by Sally Mackenzie

Where was Marcus?
    â€œYer right about that, Mrs. Hutting.” Mr. Linden slapped Nate on the back with enough enthusiasm to send Nate lurching forward half a step. “Never had the pleasure of playing with a fellow as good as ye, milord.” He grinned, showing several missing teeth, which, he’d explained earlier, made whistling easier.
    Nate smiled back. “You’re an excellent fiddler, Mr. Linden. I’ve quite enjoyed myself.” Which was true. The ton looked a bit askance at aristocratic male musicians. Normally his only opportunity to play for an audience was at house parties where the guests were dragooned into performing to pass the time after supper and before bed and where most of the people in the room only pretended to listen, being either half asleep from overindulging or busy planning their next bedroom assignation.
    â€œThe music’s not over, is it, Mama?” A flushed and slightly anxious-looking young girl came up with two younger boys—twins—behind her.
    â€œWe want to dance some more!” one of the boys said.
    Nate smiled. Their dancing had been more like jumping and spinning, but they’d clearly been enjoying the music.
    â€œLord Haywood and Mr. Linden are just taking a rest, children.” Mrs. Hutting looked hopefully at him and Linden. “Could you begin again in, say, half an hour?”
    â€œOf course.” Linden laughed. “That is, I can. Don’t know about this young fellow. London lords may not have as much stamina as country farmers.”
    â€œHa!” Nate grinned at that. “I can outlast you, sir, even if you try to play all night.”
    â€œWe’ll see about that.”
    Mrs. Hutting had turned away to give instructions to one of the servants and answer an elderly gentleman’s question. She must have caught only part of their conversation, because when she turned back, she sounded a bit harried.
    â€œOh, no, I am not asking either of you to play all night. I—oh.” She glanced over at her husband, who was making faces at her as if he was in desperate need of rescuing. Since he was talking to Lady Penland and her daughter, Lady Uppleton, he was indeed in need of immediate help, though if Nate remembered correctly, Lord Penland was the vicar’s older brother.
    Not that being related to Penland made the situation any more bearable. Likely it made it worse.
    â€œIf you’ll excuse me?” Mrs. Hutting hurried off.
    Linden snorted. “The vicar’s fancy relations don’t come to the village much,” he said, walking with Nate to get some ale. “By Jove, I thought all the London nobs were like them ’til I met you and yer friends.”
    â€œThat’s right. Nate here is the best of good fellows,” Alex said, appearing on Nate’s left and clapping him on the shoulder.
    â€œThat he is. Finest piano player I’ve ever had the pleasure to play with.” Linden slapped his knee and guffawed. “’Course the only other fellow I know who plays the darn thing is Luntley, the village music teacher, so I wouldn’t be getting too proud of yerself, milord.”
    Linden grabbed a pint and a plate and drifted off to talk to a group of local men.
    Nate glanced around the room again. He still didn’t see his cousin. “Where’s Marcus?”
    Alex shrugged. “I think he went outside. Here, have some ale. And the lobster patties are quite good. I wonder if Hutting had them brought down from London?”
    Damnation. Nate looked at the food with regret. He was hungry—and thirsty. “I should go after him.”
    â€œWhy? He’s probably only in search of some fresh air”—Alex snorted—“or the jakes.” He handed Nate a pint. “I think he can manage that all by himself.”
    Nate took the ale automatically. “You don’t understand.” Mmm. The ale smelled very good. He took a sip. It tasted good,