most assuredly deliver him to a sense of what she, Lady Myriah of the Whitney line, was due.
But that wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted his heart, and she didn’t want him to want her for her money!
A good while was spent in unhappy thoughts and self-pity; however, Myriah was made of staunch and steady stuff, and she soon addressed herself to the problem at hand.
What she needed was a plan. Yes, a plan of action was all she needed to bring his lordship to his heart—because some instinct told her he definitely felt something out of the ordinary for her.
Solutions come quickly to an active mind, and several presented themselves to the lady. Much of the night was spent in laying out her strategy and sorting out any possibilities that were not employable. At last satisfied, her heart ceased its palpitations, pleased with her mind for its cleverness, and both organs allowed the lady to put her head on her pillow and remember Kit Wimborne’s lovemaking …
* * *
Lord Wimborne by nature was a merry, pleasant, and well-liked man. Man being the key word. He had spent six years in service of his king and prince regent, fighting the Frogs in the Pyrenees, and it had taught him many things. One of the very first notions that settled in his well-ordered intellect was that the fair and lovely sex should be prized and adored, but rarely trusted.
He had his share of youthful romances with their accompanying pangs and inevitable flights; in truth, he’d enjoyed them all. Though he was still a bachelor and had not planned on changing his comfortable state in the foreseeable future, he had always felt he would one day take a wife.
She would be a special creature, with the honesty her sex lacked, with the beauty of love and innocence in her soul as well as in her form. He wanted no coquette, no fluttering, fainting wench—damnation, no. His dream bride was perfect in every way, as are most dreams.
His mother, who survived his father’s death by many years, had been all a mother could be, and her sons had grown whole and healthy. However, they had lost her only two years ago, while Kit was in Spain in the midst of battle and Billy was at Oxford. Lord Wimborne, a major in his regiment, had sold out and come home to take up the management of his estates. He found them in miserable condition, simply because there had been no one about to attend to them.
A heaviness of spirit hung about him, for there would be no picking up his regimentals and rejoining in the near future. The Towers needed him. And then, shortly thereafter, he found yet another activity to keep him occupied.
Billy had finished his term and joined Kit at the Towers, and it was not long before the young man had embroiled himself in his brother’s strange activities.
The emergence of Miss Myriah White on his plain had chained the dance in Kit’s gray eyes and kept him wary because he was losing control of his feelings for her.
He awoke to find the object of his madness no longer in his bed, where he had meant to continue to make love to her. Then he sighed in the darkness and recalled that she had been a virgin.
He was the lowest of cads, for he had taken her without a thought to marriage.
What the devil was he to do now? She had left in the middle of the night for her own bed, no doubt because she realized the consequences of her actions.
Her actions? She was but an innocent in this, and he the experienced one … taking advantage of her youthful infatuation. No doubt what he had seen as brazen was merely exuberance … no very different than his brother’s liveliness.
But a bevy of subtle contradictions hung about Myriah. He ran his hand through the honey-colored waves of his hair. For one thing, there was her horse. That stallion was no less than five hundred guineas!
Myriah was well provided for. Therefore, why would a doting father — and apparently he was such, both by her description and her possession of such an animal—force her to marry a
But that wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted his heart, and she didn’t want him to want her for her money!
A good while was spent in unhappy thoughts and self-pity; however, Myriah was made of staunch and steady stuff, and she soon addressed herself to the problem at hand.
What she needed was a plan. Yes, a plan of action was all she needed to bring his lordship to his heart—because some instinct told her he definitely felt something out of the ordinary for her.
Solutions come quickly to an active mind, and several presented themselves to the lady. Much of the night was spent in laying out her strategy and sorting out any possibilities that were not employable. At last satisfied, her heart ceased its palpitations, pleased with her mind for its cleverness, and both organs allowed the lady to put her head on her pillow and remember Kit Wimborne’s lovemaking …
* * *
Lord Wimborne by nature was a merry, pleasant, and well-liked man. Man being the key word. He had spent six years in service of his king and prince regent, fighting the Frogs in the Pyrenees, and it had taught him many things. One of the very first notions that settled in his well-ordered intellect was that the fair and lovely sex should be prized and adored, but rarely trusted.
He had his share of youthful romances with their accompanying pangs and inevitable flights; in truth, he’d enjoyed them all. Though he was still a bachelor and had not planned on changing his comfortable state in the foreseeable future, he had always felt he would one day take a wife.
She would be a special creature, with the honesty her sex lacked, with the beauty of love and innocence in her soul as well as in her form. He wanted no coquette, no fluttering, fainting wench—damnation, no. His dream bride was perfect in every way, as are most dreams.
His mother, who survived his father’s death by many years, had been all a mother could be, and her sons had grown whole and healthy. However, they had lost her only two years ago, while Kit was in Spain in the midst of battle and Billy was at Oxford. Lord Wimborne, a major in his regiment, had sold out and come home to take up the management of his estates. He found them in miserable condition, simply because there had been no one about to attend to them.
A heaviness of spirit hung about him, for there would be no picking up his regimentals and rejoining in the near future. The Towers needed him. And then, shortly thereafter, he found yet another activity to keep him occupied.
Billy had finished his term and joined Kit at the Towers, and it was not long before the young man had embroiled himself in his brother’s strange activities.
The emergence of Miss Myriah White on his plain had chained the dance in Kit’s gray eyes and kept him wary because he was losing control of his feelings for her.
He awoke to find the object of his madness no longer in his bed, where he had meant to continue to make love to her. Then he sighed in the darkness and recalled that she had been a virgin.
He was the lowest of cads, for he had taken her without a thought to marriage.
What the devil was he to do now? She had left in the middle of the night for her own bed, no doubt because she realized the consequences of her actions.
Her actions? She was but an innocent in this, and he the experienced one … taking advantage of her youthful infatuation. No doubt what he had seen as brazen was merely exuberance … no very different than his brother’s liveliness.
But a bevy of subtle contradictions hung about Myriah. He ran his hand through the honey-colored waves of his hair. For one thing, there was her horse. That stallion was no less than five hundred guineas!
Myriah was well provided for. Therefore, why would a doting father — and apparently he was such, both by her description and her possession of such an animal—force her to marry a
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