The Lady Most Willing . . . by and Connie Brockway Eloisa James Julia Quinn Page B

heiress already. You know
     what they say: as you grow older, yer balls grow colder.”
    “You are being manifestly rude, Uncle.” He glanced back over his shoulder. Bret and
     Catriona were still locked in each other’s arms.
    “Thank the Lord, he’s too much of a fool to realize that Catriona Burns doesn’t have
     tuppence to her name,” Taran muttered. “Her da will be kissing my feet for last night’s
     work, I’ll tell you. Burns would have danced a jig if she’d landed the second son
     of a baronet, let alone a duke. And he can’t say I didn’t try to chaperone the two
     of them.”
    “Be quiet!” Byron hissed. He’d known the duke since they were both boys, and though
     Bret was easygoing to a fault, Byron had the firm conviction that no one would ever
     be allowed to insult his wife without being beaten within an inch of his life.
    “As I was saying before,” his uncle said, mercifully abandoning that topic, “I’m giving
     you two every opportunity to snatch up yer brides, same as that Englishman done. Blindman’s
     buff seems to be working. I’ll make certain we play it every night. You lads are so
     lily-livered that you need the help of a blindfold.”
    “I do not need help choosing a wife, from you or a blindfold,” Byron responded, keeping his voice even.
    “No, yer problem is keeping her, once you’ve proposed,” his uncle scoffed.
    The lovers had finally drawn apart, but Bret still held Catriona’s hands in his, and
     was looking down at her with such an adoring expression that Byron felt a true pulse
     of envy. He hadn’t deluded himself that either he or his former fiancée, Lady Opal
     Lambert, had felt that sort of feverish entanglement, but it was a bruise to his vanity
     to think that Opal wanted someone other than himself to the point of not caring about
     scandal.
    “One more round of blindman’s buff,” his uncle called, surging forward. “Marilla,
     tie that blindfold back on. Now where’s Robin got to?”
    “Robin left the room a good hour ago, when the blindfold first made its appearance,”
     Byron pointed out. He was rethinking his lifelong policy of courtesy. Why shouldn’t he simply retire to his room and stay out of the fray, the way Robin had done?
    “Dang and balderdash,” Taran muttered. “How does that lad think he’ll catch himself
     a wife if he can’t even stay put for an evening?” He started barking out orders. Bret,
     Catriona, and the rest of the guests reluctantly, but obediently, gathered around
     Marilla again.
    The lady was looking distinctly irritated. She had made it obvious that she hoped
     to lure Bret into the parson’s mousetrap, so she must be vexed that her overly intimate
     patting of his chest had led to his marriage proposal—to another woman.
    But she smiled prettily enough when Taran handed the blindfold to Catriona so that
     she could cover Marilla’s eyes. “Lord Oakley,” she called, “you simply must join us. This children’s game won’t be at all fun without you.”
    Byron stepped forward and Taran scuttled into place beside him.
    “ She’s up for anything,” his uncle whispered approvingly. “Blast Robin for leaving the room.
     Here I got him a lively one with a sweet fortune, and he flees like a sheep at its
     first shearing.”
    “She’s an impudent baggage,” Byron said, taking advantage of the fact that Marilla
     was surrounded by giggling young ladies adjusting her blindfold and couldn’t hear
     him. “Didn’t you see how outrageously she behaved with the duke?”
    “You are turning into a proper antidote,” his uncle snapped, rounding on him. “A pompous,
     self-righteous turnip! I heard about what you did to your betrothed, merely because
     she gave a buss to her dancing master. Likely she meant it no more than as a matter
     of courtesy, and you ruined her reputation for it.”
    Rage swelled in Byron’s chest. He had found his fiancée bent backward over a sofa,
     one slender leg wrapped