My Lord Hercules

by Ava Stone

  But why?

  Right, right, left.

  Why Woodsworth? Why should she care a thing for him? No one ever wanted an introduction to Woodsworth. He was inconsequential on his best days and downright destructive on his worst. No decent girl would pay him any attention. No decent girl would beg an introduction to such a man. No decent girl would dress like a dandy and enter a gaming hell just to stumble across the likes of Woodsworth.

  Right, right, right.

  Harry should wash his hands of her and be done. But that kiss still lingered on the fringes of his mind. Bloody hell. He’d kissed her. He’d kissed her right in the middle of Hyde Park, for God’s sake. No matter how he tried or how many punches he threw, he’d never forget that kiss. He’d never forget her sweet lilac scent, the tentative way her tongue had met his, the way she fit in his arms.

  “You trying to break that thing?” came the irritatingly familiar drawl of his brother-in-law.

  Woodsworth wasn’t around to pummel, but Harry wouldn’t mind taking a few swings at St. Austell instead. He turned his head to glare at his sister’s disreputable husband. “I’d much rather break you, since you’re around.”

  St. Austell grinned as he shook his head. The man was either quite brave or quite stupid. Harry was inclined to believe it was the latter, as thinking of St. Austell as brave went against his very nature. “And what would that get you?” his brother-in-law asked.

  Tossed in Newgate while he awaited trial for murdering the libertine? Harry shrugged. “Pippa would forgive me in time.”

  St. Austell laughed. “Eventually we’ll have to get along, you know.”

  “Is that decreed somewhere?”

  It was the earl’s turn to shrug. “You’ll be an uncle to my babes. Someday you’ll have little pugilists of your own. We really should set good examples for the children.”

  The yet-to-exist children? Was that the best the blackguard could do? St. Austell was clearly after something. “What do you want?” Harry growled, turning his attention back to the punch bag.

  Right, right, left.

  “To see you happily settled with some chit.”

  “Indeed?” Harry scoffed. “You’d wish that on me, would you?”

  St. Austell released the sigh of a beleaguered man. “It would put Pippa’s mind at ease, and I’d much rather have my wife’s attention focused on me than on you.”

  Harry couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. Of course St. Austell would have an ulterior motive. He spun on his heel to face his brother-in-law. “Altruistic as always, hmm? How does my sister tolerate you?”

  “Pippa loves me, and I love her.” A genuine smile lit St. Austell’s face, which was quite different that the smug expression he sported most of the time. “So which of Marston’s sisters has caught your notice? Miranda? Penelope?” He cringed. “Hopefully not Alessandra, as that would be more than awkward with Puttenham in the mix.”

  Harry’s mouth fell open. “How is it you’re so familiar with Marston’s sisters?”

  His brother-in-law shrugged. “Simeon Bartlett was a friend before his untimely death. I’ve heard about those three girls for years. The shy Alessandra. The secretive Miranda. And the spoiled Penelope.”

  Secretive, that was certainly Miranda. Harry wasn’t sure if he was more surprised that St. Austell had been friends with the saintly Simeon Bartlett or that he seemed to remember details about the late gentleman’s sisters. He’d never known the earl to give much thought to anyone except himself, and of course Pippa.

  “He adored them, doted on them,” St. Austell continued. “Always struck me as odd as I’d rather be just about anywhere but near my own sister. Of course Nora is a harridan of the worst variety, but I digress. Which Bartlett sister has you bashing that poor punch bag into oblivion?”

  Harry shook his head as though his brother-in-law was absurd. “I come here all the time.”

  “Indeed,” St. Austell agreed. “But you never look quite so murderous, and you did have such a bounce in your step in my parlor today. Clearly something turned your mood black.”

  “Seeing you twice in a day does that to a man.”

  His brother-in-law tossed back his head and laughed. Then his familiar smug expression settled once more on his face. “Fine, keep your own council. Pippa’s headed over to Marston House as it is, with that invitation you were so keen on. She’ll learn all your secrets, I’m sure.”

  Needlepoint had to have been created by some man to keep women in their place. Horrid waste of time and energy. Miranda frowned at the mess in her lap. The colorful thread, stitched this way and that, didn’t remotely resemble a horse in a pasture. In fact, when she closed one eye and tilted the fabric to the side, her work looked more like Cerberus frolicking in a clover field than anything else.

  Beside her on the settee, Penny didn’t even attempt to hide her amusement. Miranda dropped the odious horse-turned-three-headed-dog to her lap and scowled at her sister.

  “You’re getting better,” Louisa said from a chair opposite them, though she bit her lip as though to keep from laughing right alongside Penny.

  One would think a vicar’s daughter wouldn’t tell an outright lie. Miranda heaved a sigh before returning her gaze to the disaster of thread before her. At least Cerberus was better than other mythical characters she could have created. If she was better at this sort of thing, she could even have Cerberus slay a particular demigod. Alas, that was not a talent she possessed. What a pity.

  From the threshold, their butler cleared his throat. “My lady,” he said to Louisa. “The Countess of St. Austell has come to call.”

  Miranda’s heart seized and her breath caught in her throat. The Countess of St. Austell? Lord Harrison’s sister? What could that particular lady possibly want?

  “Thank you, Hibbert,” Louisa replied. “Do show her in, and deliver some refreshments as well, please.”

  As soon as the butler disappeared, Penny grasped Miranda’s hand. “Do you know who she is?” her sister whispered, her gleeful eyes boring into Miranda.

  “I was sitting in the same room as you when Lord Harrison mentioned his sister.” Miranda narrowed her eyes on Penny. Really, did her little sister think she had the memory of gnat?

  “But now she’s come to call on you,” Penny gushed as she clapped her hands together. “He must mean to propose, and she wants to know what sort of girl you are.”

  He most certainly did not mean to propose. Miranda’s face heated anew at the memory of Lord Harrison’s kiss then his words a moment later: If you want to be ruined, Miranda, you need only ask. As though she wanted to be ruined. For a brief moment she’d felt as though she’d floated to the clouds until he’d said such an awful thing. “She’s come to see Louisa,” Miranda stressed their sister-in-law’s name. “Did you not hear Hibbert?”

  But Penny paid her no attention, like always. Her sister leaned closer to Miranda and said, “Where did you meet him? You never said.”

  Heavens. Penny was as bad as Cerberus with a bone. Miranda rose to her feet. “I’m feeling a bit piqued. I think I’ll retire until dinner.”

  Before she could escape, however, a pretty girl stepped into the parlor. Her light brown hair trailed over one shoulder, making her appear both innocent and slightly regal at the same time. She was young, however. Close to Miranda’s or Penny’s age to be sure. But then, Lord Harrison had mentioned that fact last night in the hack, hadn’t he? The lady smiled sweetly, her green eyes, so much like her brother’s, landed on Louisa. “Lady Marston, so wonderful to meet you. Your cousin, Emma Heathfield, is a dear friend of mine.”

  Louisa nodded her head in greeting. “Yes, Emma has spoken highly of you, Lady St. Austell. We’re so glad you’ve come to call.”

  “Oh, Pippa, please,” the countess said, touching a hand to her chest as she crossed the floor. “I do hate to stand on ceremony with friends, which I sincerely hope you will be.”

  “Then you must call me Louisa.” Their sister-in-law
gestured to Miranda, standing before the settee and Penny still seated on it. “My new sisters, Miranda and Penelope Bartlett.”

  The countess flashed a winning smile in the sisters’ direction. “I’m so pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  “The pleasure is ours,” Louisa replied. “Do join us, Pippa.”

  “Sit, Miranda,” Penny hissed. “It’s you she’s really come to see.”

  That statement drew Lady St. Austell’s green eyes from Louisa to focus on Miranda as the countss took a seat in a chair opposite them.

  Perfect. Penny and her big mouth.

  “I’ve come to see all of you,” the countess protested, “and to extend an invitation to my ball tomorrow night.”

  “Miranda,” Louisa said quietly, though there was an edge to her voice, making it quite clear that she needed to reclaim her seat.

  Defeated, Miranda sank back onto the settee beside Penny and folded her hands in her lap, wishing she was anywhere else in the world.

  “Lord Harrison mentioned your ball before he took Miranda riding,” Penny said, as though she was incapable of keeping any information to herself. She would make a terrible spy. Thank heavens, Miranda hadn’t entrusted any of her secrets to her little sister. All of London would know them if she had.

  A genuine smile lit Lady St. Austell’s face, and her green eyes twinkled happily. “Did you go riding with Harry today?”

  Harry? Was that was his family called him? Miranda nodded her answer instead of speaking. What was she to say to the countess? Oh, yes. Your brother took me riding and even let me drive. And then he kissed me senseless before breaking my heart. How was your afternoon? No, it was better just to nod.

  “We are looking forward to your ball,” Louisa said, breaking the awkward silence. “I promised the girls we would all go.”

  “I am delighted to hear it,” Lady St. Austell replied. “My husband mentioned today what great friends he was with Mr. Bartlett, and he’s quite anxious to meet all of you.”

  Mr. Bartlett. Miranda swiped at a silent tear. If only Simeon was still here. The world had gone to shambles with her brother’s death, and it didn’t seem likely to change anytime soon. Simeon’s death, then Papa’s death, Tessie’s disappearance. A year ago, she hadn’t thought of the world as bleak, but now…

  Hibbert strode into the parlor, a heavy tea tray in his hands. Louisa gestured to nearest table. “That will do. Thank you, Hibbert.”

  As the butler made his escape, Miranda wished herself away with him. How would she ever get through tea with Lady St. Austell?

  As soon as Pippa St. Austell returned home, the butler directed her to her husband’s study when she inquired after his whereabouts. She knocked on the door and then pushed it open just as Jason called, “Yes?”

  Upon seeing her, her husband rose from his spot, a frown marring his too handsome face. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

  Pippa could only shake her head. Nothing from that afternoon made any sense at all. “I’m not sure.”

  Jason stepped around his desk, and then crossed the floor to stand before her. “Something is troubling you.” He caressed her cheek, and his light blue eyes filled with concern. “Tell me.”

  Pippa heaved a sigh, smiling up at him. No matter what Harry or anyone else thought, Jason truly was a wonderful, devoted husband. “I just came from Marston House.”

  “And you met the object of Harrison’s affections.”

  Pippa cringed. “That’s just it, Jason. The girl is so strange. I can’t imagine what Harry sees in her.”

  Jason’s brow rose slightly, as though to say he thought Harry was fairly strange himself.

  She lightly smacked his chest. “Harry is wonderful,” she protested.

  “You are his sister.”

  “Jason!” There was still no love lost between either of her brothers and her husband, but there was no reason for him to be insulting.

  A roguish grin settled on his face. “Sorry, sweetheart. You’re right. Harrison is wonderful,” he said, in an obvious attempt to placate her. “Tell me what’s so strange about the Bartlett chit.”

  Slightly appeased, Pippa explained, “She’s more peculiar than strange, I suppose. She certainly isn’t what I expected.” She heaved another sigh. “Jason, she barely met my eye the entire time I was there. She said less than a dozen words, and I’m fairly certain she swiped at tears more than once during my stay.”

  “She cried?” Jason frowned. “Sweetheart, you have no idea how much I appreciate the fact that you’re not a crier.”

  Pippa felt like crying now. Harry was wonderful, and he deserved a girl who was equally wonderful. One whose face lit up when she heard his name. One who would love him the way he deserved to be loved. One who would gush over him. One who seemed capable of happiness.

  “What did you expect?”

  Pippa wasn’t quite certain. “A girl with some spirit, I suppose. An adventurous girl. A girl who is capable of engendering the look I saw in his eyes today.” She shrugged. “Jason, I’ve never known him to behave as he did this morning. He seemed completely besotted.”

  “Infatuated might be a better word.”

  Why was he splitting hairs? “Infatuated, besotted, what does it matter? I’ve never seem him like he was this morning.”

  “Certainly not with a proper girl,” her husband added, almost under his breath.

  Pippa narrowed her eyes on him. “You’re certainly not one to talk on that score, Jason York.” After all, very few men had reputations as blackened as her husband’s had been before their marriage.

  He chuckled in response. “But I found my proper girl, and I’m all the happier for it.” Then he tipped her chin upwards with a crooked finger and he pressed his lips to hers, soothing her as only he could. “Don’t worry about Harrison, Pippa,” he said softly. “I’m certain it’s just a lover’s quarrel and they will work it out, if it’s to be.”

  Pippa blinked at her husband. “Why do you think it’s a lover’s quarrel?”

  Jason shrugged. “I saw Harrison myself at Gentleman Jackson’s this afternoon. I’ve never seen him so furious, not even when we told him of our plans to marry. I’m not sure whose face he envisioned on that punch bag, but I’m glad it wasn’t mine.”

  “Harry was that angry?” None of this made any sense at all. Something had to have happened. “But he was so happy when he was here earlier today.”

  “Besotted or infatuated.” Her husband agreed with a nod. “Which is why I’m fairly certain it was a lover’s quarrel. Think about it, sweetheart. If they’d had a spat, and if she is just as upset as your brother is, she probably wouldn’t want to say more than a few words to you. You are his sister, after all.”

  He might be right on that score. Had Pippa met Jason’s sister after she learned how he’d tricked her early in their courtship, she wouldn’t have had anything kind to say to the lady either. But then that begged the question… What had Harry done? “If you’re right, we’ll have to fix whatever it is, Jason.”

  He looked at her as though she’d lost her mind. “We will do no such thing. I offered my council to Harrison. He rejected that, by the way, which is completely within his rights. It’s his life, Pippa. He will have to sort it out on his own.”

  But Harry was her brother, her favorite brother. Jason wasn’t close to his sister, he didn’t understand that bond, but Alice did as she was very close to her siblings. Pippa would see what her friend thought about the situation and go from there.

  “I know that look,” her husband said. “You’re thinking about involving yourself anyway.”

  She shrugged. “I just want to ask Alice’s opinion on the matter.”

  He laughed. “At least she has a level head.”

  “What is going on with Harrison Casemore?” Devlin Bartlett, Viscount Marston, demanded from his desk, his eyes focused on Miranda.

  “Nothing,” Miranda answered honestly, standing before her brother like a chastened schoolgirl. But nothi
ng was going on. Not now. Nor would it ever, with that particular gentleman.

  Her brother arched one disbelieving eyebrow. “Louisa says he showed up here today, took you riding, and that his sister arrived later to ensure your attendance at her ball tomorrow. Should I be expecting an offer from him?”

  Devlin would love that, wouldn’t he? One more sister off his hands. Miranda bit back that answer though, as it would only anger her brother and that was the last thing she needed at the moment. “I don’t believe so.”

  He sat back in his chair and templed his hands in front of him as though he was deep in thought. “I just don’t understand where you could have possibly met him, Miranda. He hasn’t attended any of the functions we have. It’s all very odd.”

  She gulped, hoping her brother wouldn’t notice.

  “But there was the strangest tale swirling about him around Town today.”

  Oh? Did he have a penchant for kissing lots of girls in an attempt to warn them of the dangers of scurrilous men? Did he break hearts all across Town? Or only hers?

  “Seems some dark haired girl found her way into a gambling establishment last night, dressed as a young man. But Casemore escorted her out, tossing her over his shoulder in the process.”

  Heavens! How had Devlin heard that story? “How strange,” she muttered, hating that her hands had become moist under her brother’s scrutiny.

  “Strange, indeed.” Devlin sighed. “Care to tell me what the devil you were doing there?”

  Miranda sucked in a breath, and a hand fluttered to her chest. “Me?”

  He snorted. “I have known you all your life, Miranda. Feigning innocence won’t work with me. Now tell me the truth.”

  She hated him when he was haughty. Not for the first time, she wished Simeon was still here. Simeon who’d adored her and would have listened the first time she told him about Tessie. “I just wanted a word with Lord Woodsworth.”