by Amelia Grey
Harrison thought back over the many times he and Adam had played cards, billiards, and dice when they could get away with it in the Heirs’ Club. It was the most exclusive of all the private gentlemen’s clubs in London because in order to be a member you had to either have a title or be an heir to a title. No others need apply.
Bray was the only son of the Duke of Drakestone, so when he came of age he was reluctantly accepted for membership. Some of the older, stuffier members had tried to keep him out, fearing Bray and his unruly friends would disturb their quiet and orderly establishment. And Bray, Harrison, and Adam had from time to time. Or at least more times than Harrison could count anyway.
“What do you think the board members will say about now having two of the three scoundrels in the Heirs’ Club?” Harrison asked.
“I have a feeling they will be saying, Damnation! What the hell are we going to do with the two of them?”
“And they’ll complain about it for years.”
“But we won’t care.”
“Not a damned whit.”
Harrison and Bray laughed, remembering that it was at the Heirs’ Club they’d planned an ill-advised journey to Dover where they’d jumped from one of the highest cliffs into the dangerous rocky waters below. Fate had smiled on them and somehow saved them all from certain death.
“Speaking of Adam,” Harrison said, “have you heard from him recently?”
The laughter faded from Bray’s features and he shook his head. “How about you?”
“Not a word since we visited him last year,” Harrison answered.
“I wrote him about your brother and family. The fire. I had hoped he’d be in touch with you.”
“I can understand why he hasn’t,” Harrison said, remembering how he felt when he heard about the deaths of his brother, Maddie, and their children. He didn’t even want to imagine what it must have been like for Adam to have lost his wife and babe during childbirth.
“Maybe we should go see him again,” Bray said. “What do you think?”
“That it’s a good idea. He seemed to be all right with our visit last spring, didn’t he?”
Bray nodded. “Let’s make plans to do that at the club, too. I’ll ask for a time from the review panel and send you a note.”
“Good.”
“Time for my duty on the dance floor with one of the dowagers or widows. Then I’m going to find my bride and dance with her. I’ll see you later in the evening.”
Harrison finished off his champagne and watched Bray disappear into the crowd. The music started again and in the distance Harrison saw the swirl of colorful skirts, the clap of joyful hands. He breathed a sigh of relief he wasn’t on the dance floor in the midst of the revelry.
He swung around and placed his empty champagne glass on the table and was reaching for another from the server when he heard from behind him, “Good evening, my lord.”
Harrison stiffened slightly. He recognized Mr. Hopscotch’s voice. Undoubtedly, the man was there to present Miss Rule to him. Harrison hesitated a moment and then slowly turned to look at the Prince’s man. Then his gaze immediately flew to the lovely golden-brown-haired young lady at his side. Harrison’s heart started beating faster, a surge of heat settled low in his loins, and for the second time that night his stomach did a slow roll.
“Lord Thornwick, if I may have a few moments of your time, I would like to present Lady Railbridge, her granddaughter Miss Angelina Rule, and her father Mr. Archard Rule.”
Miss Rule was the angel he’d been admiring a few minutes earlier. Fate was either smiling on him or playing a cruel joke on him.
Only time would tell which, but for now, he would consider this a sweet surprise.
Chapter 5
O you gods! Why do you make us love your goodly gifts, and snatch them straight away?
Pericles 3.1.22—24
Harrison only half listened to the formal introductions. His concentration was on Miss Rule. His gaze swept slowly up and down her face. Now that he was close to her he could see her delicate bone structure. Her skin was the color of pale ivory and her complexion flawless. Her lips were full, beautifully shaped, and made for kissing. Soft, sweet kisses that satisfied a man all the way to his soul. Her shiny golden-brown tresses had been loosely gathered to the top of her head, and wispy curls framed her face. There was no hump on her back, and no wart on her lovely nose, but with the darkest blue eyes he’d ever seen, she was giving him the evil eye.
That intrigued Harrison.
Miss Rule didn’t appear any happier than Harrison was about the situation confronting them. By the glare in those lovely blue orbs, he’d say that contrary to what he’d been thinking, she hadn’t been waiting around just to snare an unsuspecting earl in a parson’s mousetrap—not him specifically anyway. That made him feel a whole lot better about his current circumstances.
She was making it clear to him right from the beginning that she didn’t like being told who to marry any more than he did. He liked the fact that she was showing her fighting spirit.
Long ago, Harrison had learned to size people up quickly. One glimpse of the grandmother told him Lady Railbridge wasn’t happy about the possibility of her granddaughter marrying him, either. That was no surprise and fine with him. He never minded the odds being stacked against him. That just made life all the more interesting. Besides, right now he wasn’t trying to win favor with either of them. But it was good to know the grandmother’s feelings all the same.
And Miss Rule’s father—well, he looked as if he thought he was the bird sitting on the best limb of the tree. And perhaps right now he was. That made it easy to know who was behind the Prince’s machinations to have Harrison marry Miss Rule.
Though Harrison couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander back to who Miss Rule had been searching for in the crowd. Definitely not him. It was her debut night, so who had already caught the young lady’s attention?
After pleasantries were exchanged, Mr. Hopscotch excused himself and left Harrison to continue a conversation with Mr. Rule about the mechanics of the latest steam engine while Miss Rule and her grandmother chatted quietly. More than once Harrison felt Miss Rule’s gaze on him, and a couple of times he was sure she knew he glanced at her, too.
A dance was announced so Harrison turned to Miss Rule and said, “Would you like to dance? With your father’s permission, of course.”
“Yes, yes, she’d be delighted,” her father answered quickly. “Please go ahead, as one is about to begin. Enjoy yourselves.”
Harrison nodded and said, “Excuse us.” He lightly placed the palm of his hand at the small of her back and gently ushered her forward.
At his contact, her back stiffened slightly. Touching her before they reached the dance floor and the music began was forbidden. But breaking the rules had always been so much easier for Harrison than following them.
“I really don’t want to dance, my lord,” Miss Rule said as they threaded their way through the crowd.
“Then you are a lady after my own heart. Neither do I, but you surprise me. I thought all ladies enjoyed dancing.”
She cut her eyes around to him. “It’s never been my favorite pastime, but my grandmother insisted I couldn’t catch a husband if I didn’t know how to twirl in ladylike fashion about the dance floor. However, what I meant just now was that I don’t want to dance with you. Neither you nor my father gave me opportunity to decline.”
They stopped at the edge of the dance floor and she tilted her chin up and faced him. Her nose was even with his chin, the perfect height for him.
“So you are suggesting I wait for an answer from you next time and ignore your father’s urging.”
Her brow furrowed slightly as if suddenly she wasn’t sure. Then she exhaled softly and answered, “Yes, that’s what I’m saying.”
“Simple enough. I can do that,” he agreed easily. “Should I walk you back to your father and grandmother so we can start over?”
Her eye
s searched his with a look that told him she wasn’t expecting him to be so accommodating, and he really hadn’t intended to be. But he was glad he’d surprised her.
He noticed a slight shake of her head, and she said, “No, of course not, but I’m curious about something.”
“Concerning me?”
“Yes. I know why I am being forced to marry you, my lord, but I have no idea why you would want to do this.”
He tried to stop the smile from spreading across his face but had no luck as he said, “So you don’t think your beauty and obvious intelligence are reasons enough for someone to want to marry you?”
“No, of course, I____I wasn’t searching for a compliment, my lord,” she said with a flush tinting her cheeks.
He inclined his head. “I never thought you were. I was merely stating the facts as I see them.”
Her focus stayed locked on him. “I was told you needed a suitable wife but I don’t know why.”
That was the Prince’s thought, not his.
He held her gaze. “Are you under the impression I wanted marriage to you?”
“I was led to believe that, yes, but why not just choose your own bride?” she questioned.
Why indeed.
“Maybe I didn’t have a choice?”
It was her turn to mock his comment with a rueful smile. “I would find that difficult to believe, Lord Thornwick,” she countered. “Who could force you to marry? You are an earl. A young, handsome earl.”
He casually folded his arms across his chest and shifted his stance. “Now you are the one handing out the compliments.”
“As you said, I was merely stating the facts. I don’t believe even the King could make you marry someone if you didn’t want to.”
Not the King, but the Prince.
Obviously Miss Rule didn’t know about the Prince’s pressure on Harrison concerning the threat of Newgate. Perhaps he should keep it that way. The fewer people who knew it was Miss Rule or prison for him, the better.
This young lady wasn’t throwing sweet, seductive glances his way and her full lips weren’t pouting false promises, but she had his attention. Harrison knew how to handle young ladies who were trying their best to capture his favor and snare him, but he didn’t have much practice with ones who showed little interest in him.
His gaze fell to her lips and lingered there for a moment. Oh, yes, he was attracted to her.
Suddenly a weariness stole across her face. She lowered her lashes and looked down at the fan she held in her hand as if she might somehow draw solace from it. “I can’t believe I must marry you,” she whispered. “It’s not what I wanted.”
Harrison could understand why a young lady would be distressed at the thought of an arranged marriage to a stranger. He contemplated telling her he didn’t like this idea any better than she did.
Wanting to soothe her, he said, “Don’t despair, there hasn’t been an agreement of marriage between us yet, Miss Rule.”
Her lashes flew up and she met his gaze without flinching. “Oh, you’re right,” she said quickly as a frown tightened the corners of her mouth. “How could I have forgotten that I was told you would meet me tonight, and look me over to see if I measure up as acceptable to you?”
So someone had told her what he’d said to Hopscotch. He could understand her not liking that prospect. He wouldn’t, either. But he couldn’t just accept the Prince’s demand that he marry her without question. Especially when he hadn’t met her at the time. Now that he had, of course, he was certainly entertaining the possibility. There was a reason she caught his eye the minute he saw her.
“I can assure you,” she continued, “I don’t like being treated as if I am a thoroughbred stallion you want to purchase.”
“Mare,” he corrected good-naturedly, thinking the best thing to do would be to change the subject to a lighter tone. “You would be a mare, not a stallion.”
A swoosh of exasperation rushed past her lips. “I know the difference in horses, my lord. I was merely using the stallion reference as an example.”
Someone bumped his shoulder in passing and he realized the music had started. The dance area was filling, but Harrison made no move to usher her onto the floor. Their tête-à-tête was far more enjoyable than dancing.
He stepped closer to her and softly said, “I have no doubt, but still you should have said mare or maybe filly.”
She lifted her chin a notch as if to counter his statement, seeming oblivious to the dance they were supposed to have, too. She had fire in her eyes and a determined set to her mouth. He took another step toward her, far closer to her than he should be standing in a roomful of watchful and condemning eyes. He caught the sweet scent of her freshly washed hair and lightly perfumed skin, and all he could think was that she was very inviting.
“Oh, all right,” she said, clearly exasperated with herself. “I’ll admit it was a poor choice of words on my part. I shouldn’t have referred to myself as any kind of horse.”
Harrison gave her a hint of a smile. It pleased him that she thought about not doing it before she gave in. He listened to her labored breathing. His attention fell to the slow rise and fall of her breasts. Though he hadn’t expected it, yes, she was acceptable. More than acceptable.
“Horses are beautiful, powerful, and magnificent, Miss Rule, and so are you.” His gaze swept up and down her face. Unintentionally, his voice turned husky when he said, “I like what I see when I look at you. I find you very acceptable.”
She drew in a long breath. Her eyes rounded and her lips formed a delicate O that made him want to pull her close to him and kiss her lovely lips.
Her shoulders lifted and she said, “I don’t want to marry you because my heart belongs to another.”
That brought Harrison up short and his breath stilled in his lungs. He hadn’t expected her to say that. What the devil was Hopscotch doing trying to get him to marry a woman who loved another man?
He took a deep breath and backed away from her. “If your heart belongs to another, why not just marry him?”
He watched her swallow hard. He could see her pulse working furiously at the hollow of her throat. For the first time since they’d met, her gaze combed the ballroom behind him.
Obviously not finding the person she wanted to see, she returned her focus to his and said, “My father has his reasons.”
So it was as Harrison thought. Her father was forcing her into marriage. But why? For the title? Money? Perhaps it was something more sinister than either of those, or maybe something as simple as not wanting his daughter to marry the man she wanted.
But it really didn’t matter what the reason was. If her heart belonged to another, it changed everything for Harrison. He had feelings for Miss Rule similar to those he’d had for Maddie when he first met her. She had favored the older, titled brother to the younger rogue. Harrison had to guard himself against that kind of pain. He never wanted to be that vulnerable again.
Harrison also had no desire to become involved in a family squabble among a young lady, her father, and her beau. And he certainly had no wish to take a woman who had another man on her mind to bed.
Suddenly he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “My guess would be that your father’s reason is the gentleman who holds your heart doesn’t have a title.”
“You’d be wrong,” she said defensively. “It just so happens he has a very prestigious title, Captain. He was awarded the commission by Wellington after the Battle of Waterloo.”
“Ah, military. In the King’s service, is he?”
Her breathing relaxed and her eyes softened. “Yes.”
Harrison knew it was difficult for young ladies to resist men in uniforms.
“Officers certainly know how to be gentlemen,” he said. “I suppose he was the one you were looking for when you first stepped into the Great Hall and searched the ballroom?”
“Yes, but—” She stopped. Her forehead wrinkled. “How did you know—” Her eyes widened. “You had
someone point me out to you, didn’t you? You wanted to see me before you would even agree to an introduction.”
It wasn’t true but if her heart truly belonged to another, it didn’t matter. He remained quiet and left her to draw her own conclusions.
She flipped her fan open and fanned herself. “I’ve never had anyone infuriate me as you have, my lord. You are a wretched soul.”
He was a wretched soul. He’d stayed in London gaming after he’d received the letter that his brother was ill and needed him. It didn’t get much more wretched than that. But he’d never had a reason to be any other way until he’d inherited Thornwick.
“Pardon me, Lord Thornwick, but may I interrupt?”
Harrison heard the familiar voice behind him and turned to see the Dowager Duchess of Drakestone stopping beside him. Bray’s mother. He’d first met her when he was ten years old. Through the twenty years he’d known her she’d never changed. She was still beautiful, forthright, and haughty to the point of madness. As the youngest of four boys, Harrison had learned early in life not to let anyone intimidate him. No one ever had—but this woman had come damned close on a few occasions when he was first a guest in her home.
“Of course, Duchess,” he said, bowing and then taking her hand and kissing the backs of her gloved fingers. “May I present Miss Angelina Rule to you?”
“Indeed you may,” she said and gave him a brief smile. “She is the reason I stopped to speak to you.”
“Duchess,” Miss Rule said, and gave her a low curtsy.
“I couldn’t help but notice your fan, Miss Rule. The painting on it caught my eye as I was passing by.” The duchess held out her hand. “May I?”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Miss Rule said, handing it to her.
She spread the fan, and Harrison could see that the scene appeared to be a brook or stream with flowers, greenery, and colorful butterflies. Whoever had painted it had done an excellent job of making the sunlight glisten on the water.
Her Grace looked up at Miss Rule and asked, “It’s superb. Who did you purchase this from, my dear?”
