by Meara Platt
“If you are determined...”
“I am.”
“Well, there is a way. You know I’ve been wanting to read The Book of Love. Would you have any objection to our reading it together?”
“Why together? Just take the book, Ronan. You are welcome to it, not that you would ever need its help to find love for yourself. Women fall all over themselves to get in front of you. Aren’t you already escorting one of the most beautiful debutantes around town? Your name often appears in the gossip rags along with hers. Who was that handsome Royal Navy captain seen escorting Lady M to the theater?”
Heather bobbed her head in agreement. “Holly believes you are courting Lady Melinda Ridley.”
He eyed her curiously. “Why would she say that? You think I’m interested in Lady Melinda?”
“Aren’t you?” Dahlia furrowed her brow as though confused. “How can you not be? It is said she is stunning, and you’ve been escorting her about town.”
“And you believe what the gossip rags say?”
She nodded. “Aren’t you courting her?”
“No. It is all stuff and nonsense.” He hated all the lies and manipulations that seemed to be the normal course of business in polite society.
Dahlia still appeared confused. “Then why are you seen everywhere with her?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Have you ever seen me with her?”
“Well, no. But gentlemen are supposed to be discreet.”
“Dahlia, it is all made up. Are you going to believe everything you read? I haven’t been anywhere with her in months. But I expect Lady Melinda is telling everyone quite a different story. It is likely she is the one sending this false information to the newspapers.”
Now Dahlia seemed quite shocked. Of course, she would be since it would never occur to her to lie about anything. “Why would she do such a thing?”
“To make a certain marquess jealous and prod him into offering for her hand in marriage. I’m just a captain in the Royal Navy. Lady Melinda is the only child of a duke. I can assure you, her father is not going to allow her anywhere near me. He wants a marquess or better for his treasured offspring.”
“Then he is a fool.” She shook her head in disbelief, her lovely curls cascading over her shoulders in breathtaking disarray. “You’d make an excellent husband for his daughter. Anyone can see you are a man of substance and ridiculously handsome, too.”
He laughed, pleased that she was offended for his sake and thought so highly of him. He liked all these Farthingale women because honesty seemed to be a trait among them. It would not occur to any of them to lie or manipulate in order to advance their positions. “Thank you, Queen Pea. But it isn’t going to happen.”
She turned to him, her eyes rimmed red and glistening, but at least she was no longer bemoaning her situation. “Ronan, what if it could happen?”
“What do you mean?”
“This book has worked its magic on my cousins and their friends. Even on my own sister. Why can it not do the same for you? Isn’t the point to reach for the moon? Who is to stop you from marrying the daughter of a duke?”
His heart was going to stop him.
Did Dahlia not realize what had happened when they’d kissed?
“Perhaps, but I will only do this with you, Queen Pea.”
She rolled her eyes. “Very well, King Bean. I will read the book with you because you’ve always been kind and protective of me, especially today, and I am very grateful. But just as you have always looked out for me, it will now be my turn to look out for you. You will have your elegant, ton bride. However, please be patient with me. I may not be very good at this matchmaking venture at first. You must understand my own heart is still reeling.”
“I know,” he said gently. His greatest concern was that Wainscott had hurt her so deeply, she would never be able to trust again. “We shall take it slow. In the meanwhile, your family will expect you to attend the various social engagements, and you ought to go. I’ll be there to watch over you whenever I can. If you want to sit in the wallflower corner or with the dowagers, that’s fine, too. I won’t force you to engage with potential suitors until you feel comfortable enough to do so. But it is important that you not hide away, or others will believe there was truth to that bounder’s cruel words. How does this sound to you?”
“Perfect!” Heather clapped her hands. “You are going to make brilliant matches for yourselves.”
Dahlia cast him a fragile smile and stuck her hand out. “Agreed.”
He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Shall we start tomorrow, Queen Pea?”
CHAPTER THREE
Ronan had never considered courtship a military objective requiring careful strategy, but he did now. It was that cursed kiss to blame. The one he’d given Dahlia, his Queen Pea, at yesterday’s party. He’d only meant to give her an innocent buss on the cheek. But she’d turned her head and opened her mouth at that very instant. His lips had landed on her perfect mouth, and nothing had been the same for him ever since.
That kiss had struck him like a bolt of lightning.
Now, all he could think about was Dahlia.
Bollocks.
He did not like feeling out of control, but he was. Heart thumping, body aching. Blood on fire. Half crazed, because he wanted to kiss her again so badly. Of course, it was not going to happen any time soon.
He sighed, knowing he ought to return to bed. It was well after midnight, probably closer to dawn, and he hadn’t managed a wink of sleep. He’d spent these past few hours alone in his bedchamber, sitting in a wing chair and watching the fire blaze in the hearth. He’d undressed, taken off all his clothes save for his breeches.
The fiery heat felt good against his bare arms and chest.
He’d been shot last year while battling pirates off the coast of Portugal, taking a ball in the arm and another in the thigh. The one to the thigh was merely a flesh wound, hardly anything at all. But the one to the arm had been more serious. He still felt the nasty twinges whenever the weather turned cold.
The warmth of the stoked fire was a soothing balm.
He rubbed his eyes, hoping the gesture alone could erase the sight of Dahlia crying on the bed, her hair gloriously undone and tumbling over her slight and slender shoulders.
Wainscott had completely shattered her innocent heart, leaving Ronan to pick up the pieces and try to mend it.
He would do his best, of course.
He brought his glass to his lips and drank his port before setting the empty glass back on the table beside him. Still unsettled, he refilled it from the half-empty bottle and then stared at the crimson liquid for the longest while.
Dahlia was as fragile as this crystal glass right now. Having been hurt, she did not want to think of love or marriage, nor would she trust men again any time soon.
It was up to him to restore her faith in those of his sex. How else would she ever fall in love with him? He’d given the problem several hours thought and now had a plan. Whether it would work was an entirely different matter.
But it was a plan.
He drained the last of his port, liking the warmth as it slid down his throat. When he was done, he set the glass aside, stuffed the cork back in the bottle, and made his way to bed.
Hopefully, his Machiavellian strategies would not blow up in his face as Wainscott’s had. His were well-intentioned.
Dahlia had to know he would never hurt her.
He was eager to share his ideas with Robbie MacLauren and Joshua the following day. The three of them had offices in the Palace of Westminster, among the oldest of the Parliament buildings. Joshua was a captain in the King’s First Dragoon Guards serving as the War Ministry’s liaison to Parliament. Robbie was a captain in the Royal Scots Dragoons, working as the Scottish liaison to Parliament. Ronan was a captain in the Royal Navy, working as the Admiralty’s liaison to Parliament.
The three of them had grown quite close over the course of their assignments and often tossed
ideas back and forth among themselves.
They were now gathered in Ronan’s office, Ronan seated behind his desk, while Joshua and Robbie had made themselves comfortable in the chairs in front of his desk. “What is this about?” Joshua asked, casually stretching his legs in front of him. “Does it have anything to do with yesterday’s incident?”
“Och, sorry I missed it,” Robbie said. “I had to attend a regimental function. A damned boring affair, but I could no’ get out of it. I heard all about the excitement that went on at Joshua’s place. How did the little pixie take her sister’s humiliation?”
Ronan arched an eyebrow. “You mean Heather? Not well at all. She’s very close with Dahlia and cried along with her every time Dahlia burst into tears. I spent the entire time trying to calm both of them down.”
Joshua nodded. “Heather is very soft-hearted. She adores her sisters. It could not have been easy for her to see one of them suffering. She was supposed to make her come-out with Dahlia, but I think both of them just want to hide out in the Farthingale home until the season is over. Of course, Holly is completely overset by what happened. She cried all night, too.”
Ronan was not surprised. Holly was the eldest of the three and extremely protective of her sisters.
“I think Holly expected everything to be right as roses once she gave that book to Dahlia.” Joshua shook his head and sighed. “Instead, she saw her sister humiliated and spurned. She blames herself for not seeing Wainscott for the bastard he is. Now that the damage has been done, she doesn’t know what to do to make things right.”
“Holly doesn’t need to do anything. I’m working on the problem.” Ronan took a deep breath and leaned forward in his chair. “I’ve agreed to read The Book of Love with Dahlia.”
Robbie shot out of his seat. “Are ye bloody insane? Och, ye looby. Ye know what’s going to happen next. Ye may as well pick out a ring and stick it through yer nose, for she’s going to be leading ye about by it before ye finish reading the first chapter.”
Joshua’s mouth was agape. “Good Lord, not you, too? Are you sure about this, Ronan? Robbie’s right. Have you lost your sanity?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Did you?”
“No, of course not. Marrying Holly is the best thing I ever did.” Joshua rolled back his head and groaned. “What is it about Brayden men and Farthingale women? First Romulus. Then Finn. Then me. Now you. I’m not one for superstition, but there is something about that book. If you read it with Dahlia, just know that you are done for. There is no turning back.”
Ronan winced. “Josh, I know. I think it is already too late for me.”
His brother’s eyes widened, and he laughed in disbelief. “Blessed saints! You’re serious?”
He nodded. “But Dahlia isn’t ready for another suitor yet. Wainscott completely destroyed her confidence. Worse, he’s destroyed her trust in men. So I’m not going to say anything to her until we finish reading that book. And I have another plan I’d like to discuss with both of you.”
Robbie had crossed to the window to stare out at the Thames, taking a moment to watch the boats sailing along swiftly flowing waters. He now turned back to Ronan with a dazed look on his face. “This is a calamity. All my friends married. My own brother is married, and so’s my cousin, Thad. All because of that damn book.” He ran a hand roughly through his hair. “I want it next. Will ye give it to me when ye’re done with it, Ronan?”
“You too, Robbie? But it isn’t his to give away,” Joshua said. “Heather is getting it next. You’ll have to ask her permission for it.”
“The pixie? Och, so be it. Let me know when ye’re done with it, Ronan. I’ll approach Heather then.”
“Fine.” He shook his head. “Why do you refer to Heather as a pixie?”
Robbie settled back in his chair. “Have ye taken a good look at her? Did ye not notice her big eyes? Her little ears that stick out. The mischievous arch to her eyebrows. Her light step. The twinkle in those big eyes. A pixie.”
“Well, now that’s cleared up.” Joshua turned to Ronan. “What’s this other plan you mentioned?”
“I’m going to buy a house in town and ask Dahlia to decorate it.”
He endured more groans and snorts of disbelief from Joshua and Robbie. Finally, his brother quieted and began to ask his questions. “Miranda is going to eat you alive for this. You’re her baby boy. The youngest of her four sons and the only one still at home. She isn’t going to let you go so easily. Then she’ll be alone in that big, rambling house.”
“She will manage. I’m not going to spend the rest of my life living with my mother. She’s your mother, too, Josh. And Finn owns the house. Let her be his problem. Or Tynan’s. He’s the bloody earl. But you have to promise me you’ll keep this quiet. No one can know my intentions toward Dahlia or the real reason I want to buy a house. I want your oath on this. Yours too, Robbie. This stays between the three of us.”
Joshua sighed. “Fine. You have it. I give you my oath.”
“Mine, too. Ye have my word.”
“Are you going to take Dahlia on the house search?” Joshua asked.
“As you did with Holly? No, I was thinking of asking Miranda to help me out.” This was how her four sons always referred to their mother, for she was tall and fierce, more resembling a warrior out of Norse mythology than a sweet, booties knitting, gray-haired matriarch. Miranda’s hair was flame red, and she’d bring her broadsword down on anyone who dared suggest she used a henna dye to keep it that color. “I thought it might ease the transition to involve her in the search.”
Joshua snorted. “Or she might set a torch to every house you visit just to make certain you will never leave her.”
“She would, too.” Ronan sighed. “I’ll have to think about how to approach her. I don’t want Dahlia searching with me. She’ll begin to suspect my intentions if I bring her in on it. But the decorating? She loves that aspect, and she’s very good at it. However, the bastard beat her down so hard, she no longer has faith in herself. Having her decorate my new home is the best way I can think of to restore her confidence. However, I’m not going to ask her straight out.”
“Why, no’?” Robbie asked.
“I want her to offer to help me. I want her to think our working together on this project is her idea. And I’ll be more than happy to accept her offer.”
“And she’ll never suspect the house purchase or the decorating is part of yer grand plan?” Robbie leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. “Och, Ronan. Ye seem to have it all figured out.”
He shrugged. “I hope so. I’m going to stop by the Farthingale house after work this evening to pay a call on her. I want to discuss details of where and when we’ll meet to read that book. Obviously, we need to find somewhere private. But it has to be somewhere properly out in the open as well.”
Joshua pursed his lips. “Why not here? It worked for Holly and me.”
“No, that was during grouse hunting season, so nothing was going on in Parliament. We had the place to ourselves while the lords were up in Scotland shooting.”
“They’re all back now,” Robbie said. “Pains in my arse, they are. I’ve been caught up in meetings all week long and have accomplished no’ a damn thing.”
“I wasn’t thinking of here. Not your house either, Josh. That’s where the bastard broke Dahlia’s heart. Too bad, really. Your place would have been perfect. Holly could have chaperoned her sister and still been discreet enough to give us time alone to read that book together.”
Joshua arched an eyebrow. “Do you have another place in mind?”
“Yes, I was thinking of asking Violet if we could meet at her house since she lives right next door to her aunt and uncle on Chipping Way. Dahlia and Heather are living with the aunt and uncle now, so I thought it would be convenient. With Romulus out of town, Violet isn’t doing much entertaining. I think she would be more than happy to help out her cousin.”
Joshua grinned. “Ah, I have fond memories o
f that house.”
Ronan stared at him, wondering at his addlepated expression. “You do? Why?”
“Never mind, little brother. It isn’t important.”
“Fine.” He shook his head. “I have no idea what you are talking about or why you have that cat-ate-the-canary grin on your face. What do you think of what I’ve proposed?”
Joshua and Robbie gave their approval.
Good.
Three excellent military brains in agreement on his tactics.
What could possibly go wrong?
CHAPTER FOUR
It was dark, and a chill wind had whipped up off the Thames by the time Ronan left his office and made his way to Number Three Chipping Way. The Farthingale butler showed him in, his face expressionless except for the slight twinkle in his eyes. “Welcome, Captain Brayden.”
“Thank you, Pruitt.” Ah, yes. He knew what the man was thinking, for he had been in service with the family for decades and seen the parade of hapless bachelors fall victim to these beautiful Farthingale women. Welcome, indeed.
What Pruitt really meant was: Resistance is useless. You are already ensnared. No point in fighting the inevitable.
If anyone were resistant, it would be Dahlia.
Pruitt led him into the elegant parlor decorated in shades of blue and then went to announce his presence to John Farthingale, the head of the household. Ronan looked around the room, noting the pale blue silk of the chairs and settee, and the darker blue velvet of the drapes. He noticed the floral pattern on the decorative pillows and other accents around the room. Not that he had ever bothered to look at such things in his entire life. But it was something important to Dahlia, so he did not want to overlook these details.
John greeted him with an outstretched hand, and John’s wife, Sophie, bussed his cheek. “To what do we owe the pleasure?” John asked.
Sophie rolled her eyes and took a seat on the sofa. “Honestly, John. We all know why he has stopped by. Dahlia will be down in a moment, Captain Brayden. Thank you for what you did the other day. While I don’t usually condone violence, in this case, it was warranted. Lord Wainscott deserved to be soundly thrashed.”
