of marriage with the handsome lord fizzled into nothing. Any childhood
dreams she had suppressed instantly dissolved.
She had
heard stories about Lady Serena's flight with some high-ranking officer and she
thought the lady a fool. But she had never realized how much it hurt him. He
held wounds of sorrow and grief that mimicked her own. A seed of empathy began
to grow inside her, and she didn't like to admit it, but the imperfections in his
character made her like him a little more. And his loving Gabrielle didn't hurt
him either.
Her
heart squeezed and her eyes stung. So, he didn't believe in a love-filled
marriage. What did it matter? Hadn't she known the truth about her and Lord
Clayton a long time ago? What kind of imaginary life had she been spinning?
A
strange ache began to spread through her limbs. Why should she care anyway? Why
should she ever trust a man again? She had already made her decision before
she'd heard whatever Lord Clayton had to say or before she had ever felt his
pain.
Besides,
he wasn't even thinking about her.
He was
only confirming her very thoughts, her very plans for the future. A man would
only ruin her life. Wasn't it a man who had left Clarice with child? She put a
hand to her mouth and choked back a sob as memories flooded her. Sir Garland
and Lieutenant Alistair Perry had made a fine impression on her life as well,
almost like Lady Serena had made on Clayton.
No, she
thought, turning around and climbing the steps to her bedchamber, trusting the
opposite sex was not an option.
After
speaking with Jared, Clayton realized he was making a rash decision and
admitted to himself that perhaps he should at least try to find another bride
instead of Miss Garland, but the lady was never far from his mind.
"Here
is the amended list," Marcus said, handing over the paper to Clayton.
Clayton
sat down in the chair at White's, shaking his head. "Only three more
names? You are as much help as Emily. She gave me a list of widows ten years
older than me."
Marcus's
smile died. "This is not polygamy, Clay. Whittle the six down to two and
then make your choice. I may be your brother, but that doesn't mean I like what
you're doing."
Clayton
pointed to two names. "Never heard of them."
Marcus
took a sip of his wine, avoiding Clayton's gaze. "Twins. Just out of the
schoolroom. Father's a rich earl up north."
"Wonderful.
How old are they, sixteen?"
"Seventeen."
Clayton
grimaced. "I am not out to rob the cradle."
Marcus's
glass-clanked against the table. "No, but you have made it known that you
need a wife."
Clayton
began to wonder if his entire family was against him in this. "Who the
devil is Miss Dunkly?"
"You
remember, the female with the silly laugh. Christian name, Roberta. Not bad to
look at. Has quite a dowry. I do believe she wouldn't mind the country. Stays
there most of the time anyway." Marcus chuckled. "Loves horses."
Clayton
winced, recalling the lady's snorting laugh. "You never liked me, did
you?"
"You
could drop the whole thing." Marcus's expression turned serious.
"Perhaps you could invest in a plantation in the Caribbean. I can loan you
some money."
"No,"
Clayton said, curling his fingers around the paper. He had no wish to be in
debt to his family. He had this one chance, and by heaven, he was going to take
it! "I will do this, Marcus."
"Dash
it all, Clay, I can't stop you. You always do what you want anyway."
Clayton
heaved a sigh as a pair of bright green eyes came to his mind. "Tell me
the truth." He drummed his fingers on the table. "What do you think
of Miss Garland?"
Marcus
frowned. "Miss Briana Garland? Em's friend?"
"The
same. She and Miss Appleby are staying with Em for a bit. Lady Garland is in
the country. Headaches, you know."
"Ah,
yes, the mama." Marcus stretched out his right leg as he surveyed Clayton
with a humorous expression. "The lady who looks like a penguin. Mother's
friend, is she not?"
"At
least the daughter doesn't look like the
dreams she had suppressed instantly dissolved.
She had
heard stories about Lady Serena's flight with some high-ranking officer and she
thought the lady a fool. But she had never realized how much it hurt him. He
held wounds of sorrow and grief that mimicked her own. A seed of empathy began
to grow inside her, and she didn't like to admit it, but the imperfections in his
character made her like him a little more. And his loving Gabrielle didn't hurt
him either.
Her
heart squeezed and her eyes stung. So, he didn't believe in a love-filled
marriage. What did it matter? Hadn't she known the truth about her and Lord
Clayton a long time ago? What kind of imaginary life had she been spinning?
A
strange ache began to spread through her limbs. Why should she care anyway? Why
should she ever trust a man again? She had already made her decision before
she'd heard whatever Lord Clayton had to say or before she had ever felt his
pain.
Besides,
he wasn't even thinking about her.
He was
only confirming her very thoughts, her very plans for the future. A man would
only ruin her life. Wasn't it a man who had left Clarice with child? She put a
hand to her mouth and choked back a sob as memories flooded her. Sir Garland
and Lieutenant Alistair Perry had made a fine impression on her life as well,
almost like Lady Serena had made on Clayton.
No, she
thought, turning around and climbing the steps to her bedchamber, trusting the
opposite sex was not an option.
After
speaking with Jared, Clayton realized he was making a rash decision and
admitted to himself that perhaps he should at least try to find another bride
instead of Miss Garland, but the lady was never far from his mind.
"Here
is the amended list," Marcus said, handing over the paper to Clayton.
Clayton
sat down in the chair at White's, shaking his head. "Only three more
names? You are as much help as Emily. She gave me a list of widows ten years
older than me."
Marcus's
smile died. "This is not polygamy, Clay. Whittle the six down to two and
then make your choice. I may be your brother, but that doesn't mean I like what
you're doing."
Clayton
pointed to two names. "Never heard of them."
Marcus
took a sip of his wine, avoiding Clayton's gaze. "Twins. Just out of the
schoolroom. Father's a rich earl up north."
"Wonderful.
How old are they, sixteen?"
"Seventeen."
Clayton
grimaced. "I am not out to rob the cradle."
Marcus's
glass-clanked against the table. "No, but you have made it known that you
need a wife."
Clayton
began to wonder if his entire family was against him in this. "Who the
devil is Miss Dunkly?"
"You
remember, the female with the silly laugh. Christian name, Roberta. Not bad to
look at. Has quite a dowry. I do believe she wouldn't mind the country. Stays
there most of the time anyway." Marcus chuckled. "Loves horses."
Clayton
winced, recalling the lady's snorting laugh. "You never liked me, did
you?"
"You
could drop the whole thing." Marcus's expression turned serious.
"Perhaps you could invest in a plantation in the Caribbean. I can loan you
some money."
"No,"
Clayton said, curling his fingers around the paper. He had no wish to be in
debt to his family. He had this one chance, and by heaven, he was going to take
it! "I will do this, Marcus."
"Dash
it all, Clay, I can't stop you. You always do what you want anyway."
Clayton
heaved a sigh as a pair of bright green eyes came to his mind. "Tell me
the truth." He drummed his fingers on the table. "What do you think
of Miss Garland?"
Marcus
frowned. "Miss Briana Garland? Em's friend?"
"The
same. She and Miss Appleby are staying with Em for a bit. Lady Garland is in
the country. Headaches, you know."
"Ah,
yes, the mama." Marcus stretched out his right leg as he surveyed Clayton
with a humorous expression. "The lady who looks like a penguin. Mother's
friend, is she not?"
"At
least the daughter doesn't look like the
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