Weston gazed down at the brandy he was absentmindedly swirling. “Any man with an intelligent and well-ordered mind would be able to choose a bride upon the first meeting, and as I pride myself on the latter, if not the former, I did not find it a difficult situation to look over the available crop and make a rational choice.”

“You’re aware that she is the one who set fire to the Lincolns’ house the other night? From what Lady Dell says, your intended is not the most adept of creatures,” Sir Hugh pointed out.

The other side of Weston’s mouth curled as he recalled the waltz they had shared. She had tried her best but had succeeded in stepping on his feet more than the ballroom floor. Still, he had felt in her a hidden innate grace, and noted that when she was not self-aware, she was as lithe and graceful as a swan. And then, of course, there was the warmth she generated, warmth that fingered its way through all the layers of ice that coated his soul, leaving him with a gentle glow deep within.

“We’ll rub along well together.”

“What about…” Rosse hesitated to speak on the subject but was worried that his friend was making an uncharacteristically hasty decision. “What about Nick?”

Noble raised one sable brow. “What about him?”

Rosse glanced at Tolliver, then back to his friend. “Will you trust her with him?”

“I believe she will be very good for him. Is there a reason I shouldn’t trust her with my son?”

Rosse considered his brandy. “No, of course not. I had just wondered whether you would be…comfortable allowing her to have access to him after what the poor lad has gone through, losing his mother when he was just a year old, and then with…”

An icy wind howled inside of Weston. “Elizabeth?”

Rosse nodded, a frown creasing his brow. “You swore you’d never trust him with any woman again. I find it hard to believe that after only two meetings, you have such a high estimation of Miss Leigh that you are willing to entrust your son’s care to her.”

“She will be an excellent stepmother,” Weston replied, the set of his jaw belying the stubbornness behind the statement.

Rosse leaned forward. “Noble, what is it about her that is making you act so…so spontaneously?”

“I never act spontaneously, Harry, you know that. As I told Tolly, I am a man of order and control. I viewed the available stock, I took into consideration a number of desirable characteristics such as temperament, intelligence, and pliability, and I winnowed down the choices to one obvious woman. There was no spontaneity involved.”

Rosse stared at him for a minute, then stood as Weston rose and offered his hand. “I do hope you’ll allow me to be your groomsman?”

“Of course. I will procure the special license in the morning, then acquaint the bride and her family of her good fortune.”

The marquis gave a sharp bark of laughter that he quickly converted into a cough. “You haven’t yet offered for her?”