“He is a war hero from Waterloo; of course, he is popular. Though, I wouldn’t put too much into rumors you hear at parties. People tend to overexaggerate things. And even if Lord Morrison is a little bit of a scoundrel with the ladies, that does not mean that he will not make an excellent husband.”
Amy bit down on her bottom lip; the temptation to challenge her father’s words was almost overwhelming, but at the same time, she was pleased to hear them. Lord Perry had unwittingly just presented her with a solution to her problem. A possible way out.
“And what if I was able to prove that he is not husband material? Would you still want me to go ahead and marry him?” She chanced a smile at him, all the while praying that her father would be guilted into letting her have her way. The queen has moved on the chessboard. Let’s see what piece you are prepared to sacrifice to stop her.
“And how exactly would you do that?” Her father attempted a smile in response, but she saw the edge where the smile faltered. He knew she was far from being a fool. Both of the Perry offspring—she, and her older brother, Colin—were intelligent and well-educated people.
“Let me go to London and see Lord Morrison for myself. I can make a careful study of the man. Once that is complete, I assure you I will have the measure of him and be in a position to make up my own mind as to whether he will make any sort of decent husband.”
She leaned forward and towered over her father, resolute in her determination to have a say in her future.
“And if he meets with your favor?” Her father’s smile now crept to the edge of his mouth. A spark of hope appeared in his eyes.
“Then I shall marry him, and Lord Lowe’s problems will all be solved. But if there is no connection or he shows himself to be a heartbreaking scoundrel, you will let me break the betrothal. And that shall be the end of the matter,” she said.
Lord Perry scowled. Amy was pleased with that; her father only scowled when he was thinking long and hard about something.
“Colin would have to go with you, but you cannot tell him the full extent of Lord Lowe’s financial problems. I think he suspects something, but that is all,” Lord Perry replied.
Amy nodded. Colin was her ray of hope in all this mess. She had every intention of bringing him with her to London; he knew the ins and out of the ton far better than she did. The idea of lying to her brother was not one which appealed, but she would do her best to honor her promise.
She sensed her father’s resolve was weakening and decided to press home the advantage. “You will keep this a secret from Lord Lowe and his son. Lord Morrison is not to know who I am. I won’t have him sullying the results of my findings. As far as Owen is concerned, his fiancée is still in the country.”
A clear plan of attack began to form in her mind. She would go to London, work her feminine charms on Owen Morrison, and see for herself firsthand what sort of man he was.
After an uncomfortable period of silence, Lord Perry finally sighed.
“Alright. Though I am convinced that once you get to know Lord Morrison you will be eager to go through with the marriage. You have until your birthday in mid-July to return home and give me your answer. If you leave for London this week, that will give you just over a month.”
Amy considered her father’s words. A month. That would be plenty of time to make a decision on her future. She privately doubted it would take that long for Owen to show his true colors.
“Good,” she said, and smiled. She had what she wanted—a say in her future.
Lord Perry got to his feet and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Whatever you plan for in London, Amelia—don’t do anything that could ruin your reputation.”
“What is the worst that could happen if I did? Oh, I know. I could be forced to marry.” She snorted and closed the door of her father’s study behind her as she left.
Amy had dared not give voice to what she knew would really be the very worst outcome for her.
Being forced to marry a man whose love she would never have for herself.
Chapter Five
Amy gave her father a dutiful kiss on the cheek before turning and climbing into the travel coach. Colin remained outside for a moment, exchanging a few last words with Lord Perry. From the finger wagging her father was doing, and the head nodding from her brother, she surmised that Colin was being given last-minute instructions as to how he and Amy should conduct themselves while in London.
Lady Perry stood beside her husband, adding her own input to the conversation every so often. Amy didn’t need to overhear what her mother said; whatever her words, they would be in fierce agreement with what Lord Perry had already had to say. Her parents rarely disagreed.
After Colin finally accepted the farewell hugs of his parents and hurriedly clambered into the coach, he threw himself down onto the leather bench and lay his head back. He sighed long and loud. “Oh, thank the lord for that. I never thought they would let us leave.”
Amy sat forward in her seat and made a great show of waving enthusiastically to her parents as the coach pulled away from the stately country house and began to trundle along the drive. She gave her brother a hopeful smile. “But they did. They actually let us go. Brother dearest, we are off to London.”
Colin nodded. “So we are. I don’t know how, but you managed to get both Mama and Papa to allow us to go on our own. I am in awe of your dogged persistence.”
“I think you mean stubbornness, with an added pinch of guilt, but yes, it worked,” she replied.
When the coach was finally some distance from the house, Amy threw up her arms and cried, “Huzzah!” She followed this by clapping her hands together with unrestrained glee. She couldn’t wait to get to London. She and Colin were going to enjoy a whole month in the English capital without their parents.
Colin frowned at her boisterous behavior.
Amy sighed. “If Papa hadn’t been so foolish as to promise my hand in marriage to Lord Lowe’s reprobate of a son, then I would not have had to shame him into letting me do this; it’s all his fault.”
“In his defense, he thought he was doing the right thing,” replied Colin.
“Oh, hush your mouth. He did it at the expense of his daughter. Don’t defend our father; he is getting exactly what he deserves. I have half a mind to go to town and tell everyone that my happiness means less to my father than his helping the bank balance of the Marquess of Lowe.”
She got a disapproving frown from her brother for her troubles. “May I remind you that the state of Lord Lowe’s purse is not something that you should be discussing in public. He and Papa will not thank you if you go bandying gossip about London,” replied Colin.
Amy crossed her arms and let out a loud huff of disgust. Why was she being portrayed as the villain of the piece? “The Morrison family’s problems are not my concern.”
Colin held up a hand. “I would have to beg to differ with you on that point. You and Lord Morrison are still, as of this moment, betrothed to one another, which means that your dowry may have a bearing on the future health of the Morrison estate. From the way Mama was talking just before we left, she seems to think that the minute you set eyes on Owen Morrison you will fall hopelessly in love with him and be more than willing to set a wedding date.”
Amy scoffed. Her parents had married for love, and her mother was convinced that Cupid had an arrow for everyone. While she secretly hoped that was the case, Amy wasn’t going to place her future happiness solely in the hands of a mythical god. She was determined to have an active say in the matter of whom she married.
“The only person I think who would be champing at the bit to set a wedding date is the Marquess of Lowe, and that is because he wants to get his hands on my dowry. I expect that if it was up to him and Papa, Lord Morrison and I would already be married,” she said.
While Amy’s initial thoughts had been to go to London purely in order to collect enough evidence of Owen’s lack of suitability as a husband to force her father’s hand and call of
f the engagement, she was now in two minds. What if the charms of Lord Morrison worked on her and she fell in love with him? Despite her current reservations, there may be the chance that she might actually agree to go through with the marriage.
Before leaving home, she and Colin had been given their instructions by Lord Perry. While he had been prepared to give Amy some leeway, the trip was not without its conditions. Conditions which Colin had been tasked to ensure were met.
She was not to make a fool of herself or her family when it came to Lord Morrison. There was to be no flirting or dallying with other men. She had thought for a moment to ask her father to further expand on the rules when it came to be dallying with Owen, but a hard glare from Colin had made her seal her lips.
As far as her parents were concerned, Amy was going to spend her time in London observing Owen from a distance. Polite interactions were only going to be attempted if she decided Owen might make a suitable husband after all. Sometime before the day of her birthday, she and Colin were to return home to Hertfordshire, where Amy would present her findings to her parents.
While Lord Perry had in theory agreed to call off the betrothal if Amy was not willing to marry Owen, she was under no illusion as to the effect that would have on his friendship with Lord Lowe. Her father may not have actually said it, but Amy knew that unless she could provide her parents with solid evidence as to Owen’s lack of suitability as a husband, she would be under great pressure to agree to become Lady Morrison.
“We shall have to make sure you use your time in London wisely. You should consider yourself an amateur naturalist and study Lord Morrison in his native environment. See how he behaves and take plenty of notes,” said Colin.
“I have a horrid feeling that I shall not need to take notes. In fact, I don’t expect we will even remain in London for the full month. I can only pray that the Morrisons have a contingency plan in place —some heiress who would like a title and is prepared to marry a man who may never love her,” replied Amy.
She sat back in her seat and turned to look out the window. She was content to watch the countryside as it rolled by, confident that her trip to London would be a success. She could only hope that the next time she saw the tall towers of her ancestral home at Rickmansworth, her future would be secure and her heart safe.
“Have you thought of what might happen if Lord Morrison gets wind that you are in town? Don’t you think he will start to behave like a gentleman around any new young ladies he meets on the social circuit? And, once he does run you to ground, he will do everything to gain your favor. A man can be all things to a woman if he has enough motivation. Your dowry would be a huge enticement for most men to behave impeccably. Well, at least for the time it would take to get your name on a marriage license,” said Colin.
She turned back to him. “Well then, it is a good thing that Lord Morrison does not know I am coming to London. Nor, for that matter, does he know what I look like. Papa promised to keep our trip a secret; and I fully intend to put the cover of deception to good use. Even if we do meet, Owen Morrison will not know who I am.”
Colin playfully put a hand in front of his nose and mouth and hid most of his face. He batted his eyelids at her from behind the fan of his hand. “Well then, Miss Incognito, you had better learn to step lightly around your prey lest you become his. One would hate for you to slip and fall in love with the blackguard.”
Amy languidly raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She had absolutely no intention of falling in love with Lord Morrison. But Colin was right; she would have to tread carefully when it came to any interaction, she had with him. The famous lover Casanova hadn’t gotten his reputation by being coy around women. Owen would likely have his own arsenal of weapons he could use to make someone as inexperienced in love as Amy surrender to him.
“Don’t worry. I fully intend to be cautious and discreet when it comes to Owen.” She turned away and fixed her gaze on the green fields of Hertfordshire. Amy Perry was not a good liar, and her promise to be cautious and discreet was exactly that . . . a lie. She and Colin were close, and she worried that if he looked at her for too long, he would see she was hiding something. He would know she had something planned beyond merely studying Owen from a distance.
And if her brother had any inkling as to what Amy had in mind for Owen and herself, she was certain he would turn the travel coach around this very minute and take her promptly back home.
Amy began to fiddle nervously with the ties of her cloak, pulling, and separating the ends of the strands. She had every reason to be fearful of what lay ahead. She was taking a huge risk.
Men such as Owen Morrison prowled like lions through the glittering ballrooms of London, always on the lookout for their next prey. Lady Amy Perry was about to throw caution to the wind and walk into his den.
Chapter Six
“It’s a disappointing crowd in here tonight,” grumbled Owen as he stepped into the main reception room at Lord and Lady Martin’s home. The place was a heated crush of people, but there were few women of his particular acquaintance present.
Reid met his gaze and nodded; frustration clear on his face. “Yes. The ladies whom I have previously had success with have all brought their blasted husbands with them.”
Owen screwed up his face. “What the fuck is with that? Some men don’t seem to understand how these things work. Its unsportsmanlike to behave all proprietary-like about your wife. They need to take a step back and let a chap have a clear run.”
Reid raised an eyebrow at his remark, the unspoken message clear.
Kendal, who was standing on the other side of Owen, leaned across and added his penny’s piece. “You will soon have your own wife to worry about, Owen. What are you planning to do when other men start making sexual overtures to her? Stand back and let them have a free run? I think not.”
A chill ran down Owen’s spine. How would he react the first time another gentleman made a move in the direction of his own wife? And who the devil would have the bloody cheek to try?
His hands curled into tight fists; he was ready to fight the imaginary rogue who thought to have a crack at his woman.
When he realized what he was doing, he forced himself to breathe slowly out and try to relax. He was angry over something that would never happen.
The situation for him would be entirely different. His wife, if she was how he imagined her to be, would be grateful for only the skilled sexual attentions of her husband. She would refuse all offers of extramarital activity. As a result, no other man would be tempted to try and bed her.
Still, no other bastard had better try.
“And what about you, Kendal? Are you going to be a good sport and let other men feel your wife up?” replied Owen, hoping to move the heat away from himself. He wasn’t the only Noble Lord under instructions from his sire to get about the business of taking on a wife. The Duke of Banfield was adamant that Kendal be married well before Christmas.
Kendal chuckled. “When I do finally make some lucky girl my bride, I will be retiring from the field of battle. I have absolutely no intention whatsoever of fucking around once I am wed. My marriage vows will be held sacred and kept; and I expect the same of my wife. Though, unlike your luckless self, I have been granted enough time to hopefully find a woman with whom to fall in love.”
Owen frowned at Kendal’s words. The mere thought of such sentimental claptrap threatened to bring up his supper. Love. What? Fidelity. Bah!
He had never been remotely in danger of falling in love with anyone, and the whole notion of being true to one woman for the rest of his days was so utterly foreign to his way of thinking that it didn’t even bear considering. Variety was the spice of life, and he fully intended to sample every hedonistic delight that came his way.
Kendal wandered off in the direction of the drawing room, where the Italians were due to perform. Callum had already gone on ahead in order to secure them seats. Owen was still stewing over his friend’s parting words when he saw Ke
ndal turn and wave in his and Reid’s direction. He was motioning for them to follow him.
As with the private function where he had first seen the Italians perform, the drawing room at Lord and Lady Martin’s home had been set up with chairs in rows and a performance area at the front. The assembled guests were now all filing into the room, politely jostling for the best seats before the concert began.
Owen followed Reid into the row where the other Noble Lords sat and took up the aisle seat. At the other end of the group, Kendal leaned against the wall, a look of pensive interest etched on his face.
Owen turned his gaze to the front of the room, noticing for the first time that Marco and the Calvino cousins were already seated and waiting to play. The audience fell silent as Lord Martin stepped forward. The Italians rose and bowed to him.
The Noble Lords all sat forward in their chairs, listening intently.
“My lords, ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention. Signore Marco Calvino and his friends are to play a selection of pieces from Vivaldi this evening. But first, Signore Calvino will delight us with an aria from Vivaldi. The famous Italian composer hailed from Venice, as do our special guests here tonight,” said Lord Martin.
An enthusiastic round of applause greeted Marco as he strode to the front of the room. Owen could have ignored the welcome, but it was the lustful sighs which several women aimed in Marco’s direction that immediately got his attention.
Reid huffed and Owen turned. The hard look of anger on his friend’s face reflected his own black mood.
Marco took a deep breath, then smiled as another round of applause began.
“Get on with it,” Owen grumbled, fast losing patience.
The room fell silent and Marco Calvino opened his mouth and began to sing. From his lips came the voice of an angel. The audience was stunned.
Beside him, Reid sat still in his seat as if cast in stone. Owen couldn’t blame his friend’s response to the Italian countertenor. Marco was everything and so much more than any of them had dared to imagine. His voice was extraordinary.
Owen: Regency Rockstars Page 3