Richard sighed and scanned the crowd. And then immediately wished he hadn’t. Because, dead ahead, was the Duke of Dowden, Richard’s worst tormentor from Eton.
“Good Lord,” he muttered beneath his breath, turning so that Dowden wouldn’t spot him.
The duke hadn’t changed a whit in the almost three years since Richard had last seen him. He was still the physical embodiment of male perfection, tall, broad shouldered, and handsome. And he still had the same punishing wit and barbed tongue.
It didn’t matter what Richard did or said; Dowden would abuse him. And only the two of them knew the reason why.
The names, digs, and even a snide ode some wit had composed about him, didn’t bother Richard any more now than they had at school. However, it was a damned shame that Dowden had so much influence over the ladies.
Especially over one girl in particular: Miss Celia Trent.
Just thinking Miss Trent’s name gave Richard a heavy feeling in his groin—a situation with the potential to embarrass him right here in the middle of the Duchess of Stanford’s ballroom if Richard wasn’t careful.
He wasn’t the only bloke who suffered such a physical reaction to the woman’s sensual, almost overripe beauty, but he was the only man in the room whose twin was madly in love with her.
Richard felt like a dirty dog about the way his body reacted to the woman his brother hoped to marry, but he was a human animal in his prime breeding years, and he could hardly control his body’s reaction to such stimulus.
Could he?
But he could control how he behaved. And so he strictly maintained a respectful reserve toward the object of his lust and his brother’s love.
Not that his behavior mattered a whit to Miss Trent, who seemed to have taken an aversion to Richard from the first time they met.
Well, after she married his brother, they would have years to become accustomed to each other.
Lucien leaned close to him and said, “I’m going to speak to Celia’s father tomorrow.”
“Why do you feel you have to marry her, Luce?” Richard demanded. “Just because you kissed her?”
Lucien hissed. “Would you keep your bloody voice down?” He glanced around, as if anyone else cared about their conversation. “You know I’ve been thinking about it for weeks now. Long before the kiss.”
“Yes, but you only started mentioning marriage since that irritating lawn party a few days ago—which was also the same day—”
“Yes, yes, you already announced that, thank you very much. It so happens that that particular . . . issue is what has made the matter, er, pressing.”
“Why?”
Lucien rolled his eyes. “You know why.”
“I don’t, actually. It’s not as if you ruined her.” Richard snorted at that phrase. “Ruined her,” he repeated. “How stupid and dramatic that sounds. Have you ever given any thought to that phrase and what it means? As if she were some sort of object, like a plate you dropped and ruined because it is now broken. It’s not as if kissing or sexual intercourse can only happen one time, so how can you ruin a woman by having sex with her? I have sex with delightful regularity. And yet nobody says that I am ruined.”
Lucien was staring at him in a familiar way. Richard could almost predict what his brother would say: What is wrong with you?
“What?” he asked when Luce only stared.
“Mother must have dropped you on your head. That is all I can think of to account for it.”
“Besides,” Richard said, ignoring the tired insult, “I saw her after you kissed her. I can tell you without equivocation that she most certainly did not appear ruined. Perhaps you should think on it a few days.”
“I don’t want to. There have to be dozens of men soliciting her father for her hand.”
Richard wanted to ask why they’d do so if she was so clearly ruined, but kept that unhelpful question to himself.
Instead, he said, “Maybe some of them have also—”
One dangerous look from his twin’s narrowed eyes froze the rest of the words in his throat.
Instead, Richard soothed his brother. “Even if there are a hundred men, none of them can be more eligible than you. Indeed, you possess the only thing Trent is looking for in a son-in-law: lots and lots of brass. Even I, as woefully ignorant of ton gossip as I am, know the man is below the hatches. If Miss Trent knocks you back, her father would probably marry you himself.”
“Very droll.”
Richard could see his brother wasn’t listening. “Are you sure about this, Luce? You’ve hardly had a chance to live life or explore the world. We had a smashing time on our trip, didn’t we?”
“Yes.”
“Well, don’t you think—”
“I love her.” Lucien’s voice was low and firm.
Love. Richard rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh at the ridiculous word. It was his contention that human beings were not designed for monogamy. He strongly suspected what his brother was feeling was actually lust and attraction.
How could a person possibly fall in love with somebody when you were allowed no more than a few minutes to chat with them a couple times a week?
Richard considered trying to tell his brother that it was his breeding imperative that was driving him to distraction and sending him to Miss Trent’s father’s house tomorrow, hat in hand.
But those were both subjects on which his mother had told him he must be circumspect.
“People don’t care to be compared to ducks or beetles or horses, Richard. You must reserve your observations on man’s biology for those who can appreciate and understand them.”
Lucien was not one of those people.
There was no point in arguing. Besides, Richard could understand his brother’s fascination—if not love—for Miss Celia Trent.
Before meeting Miss Trent, Richard had believed that all healthy, attractive, unattached females under the age of forty were largely the same. Which was to say desirable. He’d never felt his brother’s brand of madness for one woman in particular.
But one look at Miss Trent’s gorgeous face, voluptuous body, and lively blue eyes had turned him into a gaping fool just like every other man—married or single.
Minerva Spencer was born in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. She has lived in Canada, the U.S., Europe, Africa, and Mexico. After receiving her M.A. in Latin American history from the University of Houston, she taught American history for five years before going to law school. She was a prosecutor and labor lawyer before purchasing a bed and breakfast in Taos, NM, where she lives with her husband and dozens of rescue animals.
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