by Amelia Grey
He returned his attention to the young lady, who was undeniably fetching in her simple, pale yellow dress. “Do you always race about the house in such a fashion?”
The older Miss Prim’s breasts lifted and fell rapidly as she tried to calm her breathing. Her hand went immediately to her long, sunset-colored tresses. She brushed them to the back of her shoulders as if hoping to make herself more presentable. There was something gentle and alluring in the way she tried to recover her composure.
Unexpectedly, he was drawn to her.
“No, of course not. We were in the book room playing games because of the rain, and, well, I had no idea we had a guest.”
How many young ladies would admit to playing with their younger siblings? And if they were in the midst of such frolic when he knocked, it was no wonder they couldn’t hear him. It would be impossible to hear a musket explode with the commotion they were making.
However, at last he was sure he’d found Miss Louisa Prim, or rather, she’d found him. Her cheeks were flushed with exertion. Wispy strands of amber blond hair attractively framed her face. He couldn’t help but think that she looked as if she’d just had an exhilarating and rather satisfying tussle in bed with an exciting lover.
If he had to marry, she might do rather nicely after all. “Apparently the winner of the game was to receive that coveted book?” He gestured to the bound copy in the youngest girl’s hands.
Miss Prim shyly gave him a hint of a smile. Bray’s body tightened with the heady prickling of desire. He hadn’t expected Miss Louisa Prim to be so appealing.
“My uncle has so many books we haven’t seen, I’m afraid we find ourselves sometimes fighting over who will be the first to read them.”
He glanced at the child. “I’m impressed a girl so young can read.”
The younger Miss Prim beamed at him, showing a gap where her front top teeth should be while the older one lifted fan-shaped brows and said, “That’s kind of you to say. How can I help you?”
Bray saw another blue-eyed, blond-haired young lady, perhaps eighteen years old, making her way toward them. And out of the corner of his eye, he saw the young Miss Prim who had shut the door in his face sneak back into the room. He did a quick count. All five Misses Prim were there.
Bray bit back an exasperated sigh and said, “I’m here to see Miss Louisa Prim.”
“I am Miss Louisa Prim,” the eldest young lady said, giving him a quizzical look.
The youngest girl, who had squealed to the high heavens, pushed in front of her sister and looked up at him and said, “I have a name. Do you want to know my name?” And without giving him time to respond, answered, “It’s Bonnie.”
The girl who’d closed the door on him piped up and said, “I have a name, too. I’m Sybil, and this is my sister Lillian.”
“I can say my own name, thank you very much. I’m Lillian.”
“Then I must be Gwen, since I’m the only one left.”
Suddenly all the girls were laughing, except the eldest young lady, who frowned and promptly scolded them by saying, “Girls, stop this at once. This gentleman will think you have no manners.”
Too late for that, he thought.
As each girl had said her name, she smiled and curtsied, even the mischievous Miss Sybil and Miss Bonnie, proving they had manners after all. Bray couldn’t help but think if someone was going to have that many daughters, they should have made it easy on themselves and named them A, B, C, D, and E or One, Two, Three, Four, and Five.
“And who are you?” the smallest one demanded of him.
“Bonnie!” Miss Louisa Prim admonished, clearly exasperated by her little sister’s boldness.
Feeling a stab of impatience at their sport, Bray said, “Ladies,” and nodded to them before immediately shifting his attention back to Miss Louisa Prim. Bray’s mouth lifted slightly. For the third time, he said, “I am the Duke of Drakestone.”
The second he said his name, Louisa Prim went still. Then Bray watched her shoulders and chin lift precipitously. She took a step away from him. Her sisters, sensing the sudden change in her demeanor, moved in closer to support or to protect her. He wasn’t sure which.
Miss Prim didn’t immediately answer him. It was as if he could see her mind working. He had a feeling she wanted to think of a way to tell him to get the hell out of her house, though do it politely. That made him smile, which he could see infuriated her all the more. The other four Misses Prim were looking at him, too, but not with the dire contempt he saw in Miss Louisa Prim’s expression. They were curious yet cautious.
“What do you want?” she finally asked in an unfriendly clipped tone that left him no doubt how she was feeling.
Her voice was cold, and that angered him. He was here because of her uncle, not because he wanted to marry her or be responsible for the assortment of girls before him. He didn’t have a hell of an idea what to do with this collection of girls. He’d never lived with one sibling, let alone five of them. What right did she have to treat him as if he were bothering her?
“I’d like a few moments of your time.”
“If I must,” she said grudgingly.
It didn’t appear she was prepared to give an inch, but then neither was he. Her four sisters stayed behind her like a wall of blond-haired, blue-eyed sentinels staunchly guarding their beloved captain, none of them making a move to leave. He couldn’t very well talk to Miss Prim about marriage with so many sets of eyes looking warily at him, so he added one word: “Alone.”
After a brief hesitation, Miss Prim said, “Very well. Gwen, please go to the kitchen and ask Mrs. Trumpington to prepare tea and bring it into the drawing room. Perhaps you should help her by picking out a lovely china pattern for the duke.”
She looked him up and down with those piercing blue eyes, and Bray felt a shiver of awareness rush through him even though there wasn’t a hint of seduction in her appraisal.
“His Grace looks to be the type of gentleman who would appreciate a very delicate cup and saucer,” she continued. “One with plenty of colorful flowers painted on it.”
Bray’s brows twitched as she looked from his face to his big hands. He had the feeling that somehow she knew he despised those dainty cups he was forced to use at teas and dinner parties. Too bad she didn’t know he never walked away from a challenge.
“The smaller, the better,” he shot back with a grin.
He could see that she was restraining a glower.
“Sybil and Bonnie, it’s time for you to return to the schoolroom and continue your studies with Miss Kindred. She should have your lessons prepared by now. Playtime is over for the day.”
“What am I to do, Sister?” Miss Lillian asked.
Miss Prim seemed to study on that before saying, “Actually, I believe His Grace would like to hear you play the pianoforte. A fine gentleman like him would enjoy listening to a soothing melody from a young lady as talented as you. Perhaps you could entertain him with that score you were practicing yesterday.”
“But I don’t know it very well, Sister.”
Miss Prim gave Bray a humorless smile and said, “He won’t mind. Will you, Your Grace?”
Hell yes, Bray started to say. He would sit through a musical or the opera only when there was absolutely no way out of the invitation for him to do so. The mere thought of hearing a child practice her lessons made him want to bolt for the door. And he was tempted to do just that. But he couldn’t resist the defiance in Miss Louisa Prim’s eyes.
“Not at all, as your sister said, I’d be delighted to hear you softly play while we talk.”
Miss Lillian scampered off. Bray was impressed at how, when Miss Prim issued the orders, the girls went scurrying to their duties without question or complaint.
“I apologize for leaving you standing in the front of the house so long, Your Grace.”
She might have offered an apology, but there wasn’t a trace of regret in her tone or countenance. He was beginning to get the feeling Miss Prim
hadn’t been pining away for him or eagerly awaiting word about impending nuptials.
No matter. She was proving to be quite intriguing.
“Would you like to come into the drawing room?” she asked in an overly cheerful tone.
“Where the pianoforte is, I presume?”
“Of course.”
Another sudden surge of desire for her rippled inside him. His lower body tightened, thickened. He had an intense urge to pull her to him and kiss her.
This visit was not turning out as he had expected.
“May I take your hat, gloves, and coat—that is, unless you’ve changed your mind and need to leave?” She held out her hand to him, palm up. “No doubt a gentleman such as yourself must be quite busy.”
Miss Prim was still talking nicely, though he knew there wasn’t an ounce of sweetness in it. It was as if she could see his reluctance to stay and was feeling quite sure she was going to win and send him running from the house with his coattails flapping in the rain.
And once again, he was very tempted.
But Bray hesitated. He didn’t want to become involved with such a strange household of females. He was no nanny, and he certainly wasn’t a keeper of innocents.
The first sour notes on the pianoforte sounded, sending a shiver up his spine, and for a moment, he thought Miss Prim had the victory, too. But then the fighting spirit rose up in him, and—much to her regret, he was sure—he handed her his damp hat.
That wiped the victory off her face rather quickly and put one on his. He pulled on the fingers of his gloves and asked, “Do you not have a servant to attend to the door?”
“Not at the present,” she said defensively.
That was odd.
He thought about asking why but the determined set of her full, lusty lips and frown told him she didn’t care much for him questioning her. He handed her his gloves and then removed his sodden coat and gave her that as well.
She laid them on a side table and said, “This way, Your Grace.”
As he walked behind her, he saw that she kept her shoulders stiff and her back straight, but that posture didn’t keep her long tresses from sweeping lightly across her shoulders and making him wonder how the soft waves of her hair would feel against his bare chest. But her thoughts clearly were not in the direction of his. He had the feeling that, just in case he was still unsure about her, she wanted to make damn sure he knew she was not happy he was there.
He wondered if he should tell her he wasn’t keen on it either.
The drawing room was a respectable size, and thankfully the pianoforte was on the far wall in front of a window. Miss Lillian looked up at him when he walked in and promptly lost her place on the ivories and made a devil of a mess of the tune.
“Please sit down,” Miss Prim said coolly.
She could hold a gaze steadier than most men. “Only after you,” he said.
“If you insist.” She took a seat on the edge of the settee.
Bray made himself comfortable on a green upholstered armchair opposite the small wide-striped sofa, looked at Miss Prim, and said, “Your sisters are rather—”
“I don’t believe you came here to talk about my sisters, Your Grace,” she said, interrupting him without a hint of apology. “Why don’t you save us both time and get to the reason you’re here?”
Miss Prim had cut him off without blinking an eye as if he were behaving like an errant schoolboy. Her demanding tone set his teeth on edge, and the silence between them made it easy for him to hear haltingly played notes that didn’t resemble any score he’d ever heard. She had no respect for his title, forcing him to listen to the poorly played melody and not even letting him finish his sentence. It was hard to believe that this rigid young lady before him now was the same one who had been frolicking through the house with such vigor and happiness only a few minutes ago.
But she didn’t know that Bray didn’t mind ladies with spirit; he welcomed them. A wayward grin lifted the corners of his mouth again. No innocent young lady had ever had the nerve to openly test him, and it appeared Miss Prim was just itching to be the first. Oddly, he felt like laughing, perhaps in relief, perhaps at the thought of this young lady standing up to him. Either way, if he had to marry, the idea of marrying her didn’t seem so dreadful.
“You’re right,” he finally said. “I didn’t come to discuss your sisters. I came to talk about you and me.”
She shook her head slowly. “That won’t happen. ‘You and me’ would imply there is an us and there is no us to talk about.”
He gave a short laugh. “But there is, Miss Prim. I never heard back from you on my offer of marriage.”
Her shoulders relaxed a little for the first time since hearing his name. “I have not received an offer of marriage from you or anyone else.”
“Really?” That was odd. “I know it was a long time ago, but I know my messenger said he delivered my letter directly into your hands.”
A deliberate fake surprise brightened her features. “Oh, you’re referring to the admission-of-guilt letter you had delivered to me a couple of years ago? That was hardly a proposal, Your Grace. And it wasn’t even a halfway decent condolence message. It was an insult, and I dealt with it as such by tossing it in the fire.”
His mood darkened. “You don’t mince words, do you, Miss Prim?”
“I see no reason to.” She rose. “I will further not mince words by adding that we have nothing else to say to each other. I’ll show you out.”
She walked to the doorway without looking back, as if she expected him to obey her orders as quickly as her sisters had. When it was clear to her he hadn’t, she turned to him. Bray kept his seat, calmly watching her. He didn’t care for the notion that she thought she’d gotten the best of him. He’d prove to her he hadn’t by staying a little longer.
“There is plenty to discuss, Miss Prim,” he stated. “Your brother asked me to marry you. In front of witnesses. And I promised him I would. Again in front of witnesses.”
He watched as a nearly palpable tension rode through her. After more than a moment’s hesitation and probably more than a little consternation, she walked back into the room, folded her arms across her chest, and stood looking down at him with anxious blue eyes. She didn’t look happy that he’d won that particular battle.
“I release you of that promise, Your Grace,” she said tersely.
“But that’s the thing. You can’t.”
“May I speak freely again?”
“Please don’t stop now.”
“I don’t want you in my house, let alone in my bed. I am in London to see that my sister Gwen has a proper Season, in hopes of a suitable match by the end of it. That is my only duty here. Once that is accomplished, I will return to Wayebury happily unmarried, to take care of my sisters until it is time to return to London for Lillian’s Season.”
There was fire behind her words, and her steady gaze was unrelenting. He had imagined many things before he knocked on the door. That she was painfully shy and unattractive, insistently chatty and loud, or that she was a demented shrew. But it had never crossed his mind that she wouldn’t want to marry him. He’d had young ladies lining up to marry him for years. He’d even suspected she put her uncle up to his brash behavior.
He never expected she’d reject him—and a duke, at that.
“It was your brother’s desire that we marry,” he said again.
“Thanks to you, my brother is dead.”
Her short, flat words hit him hard, but he did nothing to show any emotion in his manner or his expression, and she didn’t let up on her attack.
“His death, like my mother’s and my father’s before him, has assured that my duty is to my sisters. They need me, not you. So if you want to marry, I suggest you find someone who is willing and command her to marry you, because I am not available.”
The last vestige of him thinking she might be a fragile slip of a girl intent on making him her husband before summer came faded from his m
ind. He had a thought that he might have won a battle, but he wasn’t sure he could win the war.
That surprised him.
It surprised him even more that the thought of trying intrigued him.
Bray had had no intentions of taking on the responsibility of caring for a flock of females, but that was before he knew Miss Prim didn’t want him to. Who did she think she was to dictate anything to him?
The flames in the fireplace had burned low, but he felt a heat to the room that had nothing to do with the embers glowing in the ashes or Miss Prim’s attitude, for she was cold as stone toward him. Yet there was a feminine softness about her that he found comfortable, appealing, and warm.
Bray rose to tower over her.
He leaned in close to her and softly said, “I hope that is not a challenge for me to persuade you differently, Miss Prim, because if it is, I’ll have to accept.”
Chapter 4
When he is best he is a little worse than a man, and when he is worst he is a little better than a beast.
—The Merchant of Venice, act 1, scene 2
A challenge?
Louisa Prim forced her knees to stay steady as the Duke of Drakestone rose and towered over her with a commanding, primal presence. A weaker woman would have dropped to her knees. That, or fainted. But she had never been a wilting flower. She hadn’t had that luxury since her mother died, shortly after Bonnie was born. Louisa had been both mother and sister to the girls.
Despite her determined control, a slight flush crept into her cheeks as the man stepped closer to her, much closer than a gentleman should stand to a young lady he’d just met. Her heartbeat pounded. Instinct told her to flee, but from somewhere deep inside herself she summoned the nerve to look him directly in the eye.
Her courage hadn’t failed her.
Perhaps it was the fact that she held the duke responsible for her brother’s death. Even she had heard the many rumors about how wild the Duke of Drakestone was. She didn’t believe her brother, Nathan, was completely innocent concerning what had happened when he died, but she felt sure he wouldn’t have been racing that fatal night if he were not encouraged to do so by the notorious heir now standing in front of her.
