by Emma Wildes
their presence only with a brief nod of his head and a wave as he escorted her up to the front
door. The flag flying above the house indicated he was in residence, which she knew didn’t
happen often.
Why would he visit this beautiful house in the country and relax when he could bury himself in
his dreary study in London, she thought wryly. Not that he didn’t come to Rolthven Manor now
and again, but the trips had been fleeting so far, and Brianna had a feeling it was always that way.
Certainly his grandmother lamented his absence whenever she had the chance.
“I hope the weather stays fine for our guests,” she commented as the butler swept open the door
with a flourish.
Colton made a noncommittal sound and turned to the elderly servant, “How are you, Lynley?”
“Very good, Your Grace.” The man gave a courtly bow, his silver hair gleaming in the late
afternoon sun. “It is nice to see you again so soon.”
“Yes, well, you may attribute this repeat trip to my wife.” Colton’s glance didn’t even touch on
her. “Tell me, has anyone else arrived?”
“Lords Robert and Damien are here, sir. Perhaps an hour ago.” Lynley was impeccably mannered
and dressed in elegant clothes that rivaled an aristocrat’s. He stepped back to admit them into the
enormous main hall.
The impact of the space was powerful even on someone who had been there several times before.
There were no fewer than six fireplaces, countless ancient and probably priceless tapestries
hanging on the vast walls, and mullioned windows, which let in muted light to give the massive
room—if one could call such a large space one room—pleasant illumination. The odd thing was
it was actually cozy, though Brianna had no idea how that was possible. It could have been the
small, intimate groupings of elegant furniture here and there, designed to encourage
conversations between guests, or maybe it was the rich rugs on the polished floor—she wasn’t
sure. All she knew was she liked Rolthven Manor and wished Colton would deign to spend more
time there.
“Shall we go up and change?” her husband asked, clasping her elbow and urging her toward the
dual staircases at the end of the hall. If he even noticed their grand surroundings, she couldn’t
tell. “I, for one, could use a wash and a brandy.”
Hot water and a change of clothes did sound appealing, and Brianna nodded and let him lead her
up the sweep of the left stairs, toward their suite. It was as magnificent as the rest of the house—
maybe a little too much so. She wasn’t all that fond of the dark, heavy furniture and abundance of
frothy lace in her bedroom. Also, Colton’s mother—now remarried to an Italian count and living
in the countryside near Florence—obviously loved the color lavender. Brianna wasn’t nearly as
enamored of it, and though Colton had told her with a careless wave of his hand months ago she
could redecorate it as she wished, they never stayed long enough for her to start the project.
Maybe if he enjoyed this little trip, she could convince him to leave London more often.
She was quite determined he was going to enjoy it.
Her maid and Colton’s valet had traveled ahead with their luggage, and Brianna found her trunk
already unpacked and her brushes and other necessities sitting on the ornate dressing table. The
long windows were open to the warm afternoon and lacy draperies floated on the breeze coming
in from the verdant park.
“Your hot water should be here shortly, Your Grace.” Her maid, a soft-spoken young Cornish
girl, moved to help her undress. “What gown would you prefer for this evening?”
“Nothing lavender,” she muttered, looking around. “Maybe the ice blue silk. Tonight is to be just
a quiet family meal. The guests won’t arrive until tomorrow.”
“Very well, Your Grace.”
After she washed the travel stains away and dressed, Brianna brushed her hair and, with Molly’s
help, coiled it in a loose chignon. Sitting in front of the elaborate gilt mirror, she wondered just
when she should present her husband with the wicked birthday gift she had planned.
The timing needed to be just right.
She intended for him to remember it for the rest of his life.
The frail-looking woman with the rug over her lap and quizzing glass to her eye was, as always,
wearing a well-executed disguise. “Nice of you to finally find time for your family,” she said
gruffly.
There was nothing weak about his grandmother’s spirit, no matter her age, Colton thought fondly.
He did his best to not sound defensive. “I believe I am dutifully here, aren’t I?”
The Dowager Duchess snorted derisively. “Only because that pretty young wife of yours forced
you into it.”
Brianna merely smiled. “Colton is very busy. I am so pleased he agreed to come.”
Damien leaned back, one brow raised in his enigmatic way. Robert looked amused. There they
were, Colton pondered as he sought something diplomatic to say, three large males, yet he felt
outnumbered by one old woman and one young, very distracting beauty. He cleared his throat. “I
am looking forward to this.”
His grandmother narrowed her shrewd blue eyes and lowered the glass. “I am not sure I quite
believe that, but I won’t argue. You are here, Damien is finally home for at least a short time, and
Robbie has forgone the pleasures of London to rusticate in the country. That hasn’t happened
since . . .”
She trailed off and Colton saw her suddenly rearrange her cane next to her chair as if it was the
most important thing in the world it be at just the right angle, her eyes suspiciously bright. Since
his father—her son—had died suddenly of an unexpected fever, he finished for her silently.
Colton had been twenty, Damien just barely at Cambridge, and Robbie still at Eton. For the
funeral, they’d assembled as a family, and he was damned if she wasn’t right. They’d
determinedly gone their separate ways ever since, the three of them pursuing their particular
passions. He had an inherited dukedom to learn to manage, Damien had always longed for travel
and intrigue, and Robbie was the careless charmer.
Good God, that seemed like a lifetime ago, when they’d all stood by their father’s grave and felt
their world slip into another dimension. At least that was how he’d experienced the grief, and
he’d sensed a change in Damien and Robert also. Reality had bashed them most unpleasantly
over the head and they were forced to deal with the devastation in their own ways.
What was your childhood like? Did Brianna even realize what that simple question stirred up in
terms of memories?
After his father’s death, he’d been overwhelmed for a while, but determined to make sure he ran
his estates and other financial interests with the same precision and expertise as all the Rolthven
dukes before him. He was so absorbed he didn’t even really pay attention when his mother
reentered society after her mourning, and consequently was stunned when she announced her
intention to remarry. Damien, too, was absent most of the time, and with his grandmother
residing permanently in the countryside and his own obligations making London much more
convenient, Colton didn’t really realize how much he missed Rolthven and seeing his family.
Robert was the
only close relative he saw on a regular basis, and that was usually because they
crossed paths in the normal course of society’s entertainments and shared the same clubs.
Though he rarely displayed affection in front of other people, his grandmother was one of the few
who could inspire him to do it. Colton reached over and touched her blue-veined hand. “It is time
we were all together, Grandmama. You are correct when it comes to that point.”
She gave him a fierce stare. “I am always correct, young man.”
Relieved to see her tears had evaporated, he inclined his head. “Yes, madam, you are correct.”
“Always.”
He definitely saw her lips twitch. One of his brothers—he had a suspicion it was Robert—
laughed. “Always.”
“Now that that is settled, I shall allow you to escort me in to dinner.”
He did so, offering his arm for support, feeling her slight weight lean on him as she rose and
walked very slowly at his side, her fingers tight on his sleeve. Behind them, Colton heard Robert
say something and Brianna answer with a musical laugh. Now that he considered the matter, he
was ashamed of his initial reaction to his wife’s idea. He wondered for the first time whether he
kept himself constantly busy so he didn’t have time to miss his family. Why hadn’t he considered
the situation before today?
The dining room could never be called cozy by any standards. The high ceilings boasted
decorative frescoes by an Italian master who had been paid a fortune to adorn the house several
centuries before, there was dark paneling on the walls below, polished to a rich sheen, and the
vast table could seat close to thirty people at one time. Two separate doors on each side of the
room allowed for the flow of servants with trays. Several massive chandeliers offered
illumination, and fireplaces flanked each side of the room. Five places had been set at one end,
comfortably close so they could all converse without shouting. Colton first seated his
grandmother and, with a singular possessiveness he hadn’t even realized he felt, turned to pull out
a chair for his wife, waving off his younger brother.
By God, Brianna looked gorgeous this evening. Dressed in a simple gown of blue silk, her
upswept golden hair gilded by the candlelight, her flawless pale skin glowing, she was femininity
personified as she gave him a brilliant smile and sank down in a whisper of sweet, tantalizing
perfume.
Later, he promised himself, he would take great pleasure in removing that gown and loosening
her lustrous hair. Then he would take her to bed and hear her make those small, arousing sounds
that signaled she liked every single thing he did to her and wanted more.
“Are you going to sit?”
Her question, asked so delicately, made him realize he was still standing there by her chair,
gaping at his wife like a fool.
And fantasizing about making love to her in front of his entire family, including his grandmother,
no less.
Brianna had that kind of unsettling effect on him.
“Sorry. I just remembered something I forgot to do before we left. No matter, my solicitor can
deal with it,” Colton lied and quickly took the chair at the head of the table, feeling like an idiot.
The minute he sat down a footman moved forward to pour the wine and Colton picked up his
glass gratefully, trying to ignore the slight smirk on Robert’s face. Whether or not anyone else
had noticed his moment of temporary absorption with his wife, his brother certainly had. In petty
retaliation to Robert’s irritating expression, Colton asked coolly, “So, do tell me, my dear, are
any single young ladies invited to this soiree?”
Brianna smiled mischievously, a delightful dimple appearing in one cheek. “How could I not
invite a few with two of the most eligible bachelors in England in attendance?”
Damien looked comically alarmed. Robert gave an audible groan. His grandmother cracked a
laugh. The Dowager Duchess said with asperity, “Good for you, child. I’d like to see the lot of
them married off before I leave this earth.”
“I have always wanted you to live forever, Grandmama.” Robert lifted his glass in a small toast.
“That comment reinforces my sentiment.”
“Amen,” Damien muttered.
“I was only making a jest,” Brianna told them, her lovely eyes full of amusement. “The guest list
is fairly limited. Besides the Earl and Countess of Bonham, there are the Marstons, Lord Bishop
and his daughter, Mrs. Newman, Lords Knightly and Emerson, and the Campbell sisters with
their parents. That is the extent of it. My sister and her husband were unfortunately unable to
attend.”
“The extent of it? It includes five unmarried young ladies.” Robert turned positively green.
“Five bachelors as well.” Brianna sipped her wine with serene grace and furrowed her brow.
“One cannot throw a party like this and not match the gentlemen to the ladies evenly. Your
grandmother told me so, and I arranged the guest list accordingly. Besides, you are used to being
present at entertainments with unmarried young women.”
“Not five of them at once and not for five days of their constant company.”
“Good God.” Damien already had the look of a hunted man.
“Oh, don’t make it sound so horrible. I promise you they are all perfectly agreeable or I would
never have invited them.”
Colton had the feeling his wife was laughing behind that composed façade as he watched her
expression.
He found it quite fascinating, actually. How the devil had she persuaded him to agree to this, and
more perplexing, how did she maneuver his stalwartly detached brothers into a similar situation?
“You’ll enjoy yourselves immensely, I’m sure,” he murmured. “We all will.”
Robert, who was aware Colton hadn’t wanted the party at all, shot him a sardonic look. Damien
grimaced and gestured for more wine, as he’d just drained his glass. His grandmother watched
them all with avid interest, and Brianna reached over and touched Colton’s hand.
A touch. Just a brush of her fingertips. Yet his body tingled. Her blue eyes were misty. “I am so
glad you just said that, darling. I have worried so over this idea.”
Darling. Normally he would not have appreciated an endearment in public, even if it was only in
front of his family. But her expression caught him somehow and rendered him helpless to even
summon a frown. Irrationally, he found himself casting back to recall if she’d ever called him
darling before. No, he thought not.
I have worried so. . . .
Had she? He’d been annoyed over the idea and she had fretted over it. Colton felt like an ass,
especially when he caught his grandmother’s glare.
Well, how the hell was he supposed to know how a married man should act? He’d had as little
practice as Brianna, after all. “I don’t know why you would worry.”
His two younger brothers both exchanged glances and it irritated the devil out of him. Robert
said, “Perhaps she thought you’d be reluctant to leave London and spend one moment of your
time relaxing? I can’t for the life of me imagine why she’d get the impression.”
Colton leveled a chilly stare at his youngest sibling. “Sarcasm is unwelcome at the table,
Robbie.”
“Was I being sarcastic?” Feigne
d innocence gave Robert’s features an angelic cast, though he
was the farthest thing removed from an angel—unless it was a fallen one.
The arrival of the first course saved Colton from having to reply. He studiously turned his
attention to his soup. To a certain measure he understood his brothers’ objections to the
atmosphere of the gathering, but then again, the young ladies invited were Brianna’s friends, and
if they wanted to avoid entanglements with eligible young misses, they could simply be polite for
five days and be done with it. In his opinion, it wasn’t much to ask. He was the head of the
family. He could demand more.
Hell, maybe even one of them would find a wife, he thought as he watched Brianna dip her spoon
into the creamy soup and take a delicate taste.
God help them.
Chapter Eight
The primary conflict between males and females doesn’t result from the games we play with each
other so much as the different rules. We have one set, they have another.
From the chapter titled: “The Whys and Wherefores”
It wasn’t until Brianna pounced on him that Robbie realized she was anxious. He’d no more than
stepped into the central hall before he found himself amidst a bevy of footmen carrying massive
vases of flowers in from the conservatory and a slim hand clamped with surprising strength
around his forearm.
“I need help.” His sister-in-law practically dragged him toward an Italian marble fireplace near a
grouping of velvet chairs. “The guests are starting to arrive and tea will be served in less than an
hour. What do you think of the roses right here?”
A brilliant spray of bloodred blooms set a dramatic note against the white stone, so he said
reasonably, “I think they look lovely.”
Imploring blue eyes looked into his and there was an actual smudge of something yellow on her
porcelain cheek. “You’re sure?”
He removed his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the substance, which looked
suspiciously like pollen, away. “I’m quite sure.”
The flush in her cheeks and the nervous clutch of her hand reminded him she was barely twenty
years old, and though she usually looked remarkably self-possessed, not at all used to her new