WANTON by Cheryl Holt

but swear to me that you’re serious. Swear to me that you won’t come.”
    “Swear?”
    “Yes. It’s my big day and I won’t have you ruining it.”
    “How could I ruin it?”
    “Simply by being there. I know what you’re like. I shudder to imagine the tomfoolery you might instigate.”
    If he’d intended to show up at Aaron’s wedding—which he hadn’t—it would never have occurred to him to cause any trouble, and he was irked by her vain belief that she mattered to him sufficiently that he’d expend any effort to misbehave.
    “I’m not a glutton for punishment,” he scoffed, “so I would never force myself to endure the torment of sitting through your wedding.”
    For a moment, she paused, frowning, as she realized she’d been insulted.
    “Your comment is exactly why I don’t want you there.”
    “And I’m not coming, so stop beating this dead horse.” She looked as if she’d start nagging again, and he cut her off. “Don’t you have someone else you can bother? I’d really rather not chat.”
    “I have to put my foot down about another topic. Mother said I shouldn’t mention it, but I feel I must.”
    “My, my, Priscilla, are you about to go against Claudia’s wishes? You daring girl, you.”
    “I’m eighteen. I can think for myself. I hardly need her directing my every move.”
    “Yes, but if she didn’t, you might walk off a cliff.”
    “You are so rude,” she huffed.
    “If you don’t like our conversation, you don’t have to stay out here with me. Oh, that’s right, you’re about to scold me. Well, have at it, Priscilla. What other ridiculous remark are you duty-bound to voice?”
    “Lord Sidwell has betrothed you again.”
    Lucas nodded. “He has.”
    “You absolutely shall not marry her.”
    “What?” Lucas banged a palm on his ear. “I could have sworn you just told me who I can—and can’t—marry.”
    “I have, and you must listen to me.”
    “Why would I?”
    “You find it humorous to laugh at convention and disparage your father and his lineage, but you people—”
    “Us people?”
    “Yes, you Drakes barely have any ancestry worth claiming. You can’t lower yourself further by attaching yourself to that schoolteacher.”
    “Miss Hubbard is vexing you?”
    “Yes.”
    “You’re so outraged that you feel it’s appropriate to speak to me about her?”
    “I won’t have that common woman in the family.”
    “ You won’t.”
    “No. I’m about to be your sister-in-law and am in line to be Countess of Sidwell.”
    “Lord help us all,” Lucas muttered.
    “What did you say?”
    “Nothing.” Lucas kept his expression bland and innocent.
    “After I’m countess, I’ll have authority over the happenings at Sidwell Manor, and I won’t stand for you marrying such a base person.”
    “Miss Hubbard is base ? I actually found her to be well-mannered and highly educated.”
    “A sow is a sow,” she conceitedly retorted, “and cannot become a horse—despite how hard it tries.”
    “Thank you for that brilliant analogy. If I ever talk to Miss Hubbard again, I’ll be sure to tell her your opinion.”
    Priscilla gasped. “You can’t tell her! You must simply promise you won’t marry her. I can’t have you proceed with an unsuitable wedding immediately before my own grand celebration.”
    “Oh, I see. So this is all about you?”
    “Of course it’s about me. Who else would it be about?”
    “It sounds like it’s about Miss Hubbard.”
    “It’s not. A wedding is all about the bride. It’s not about the groom, and it’s most especially not about the groom’s brother. You can’t marry her. Swear to me that you won’t.”
    Lucas studied her, and a wave of melancholy swept through him. He and Aaron had never been particularly close, but it saddened Lucas to envision his brother shackled to such a horrid shrew.
    Lucas was a very contrary individual, and he disliked Priscilla so much that it was on the tip of his tongue to state that he was