by Cheryl Bolen
"I should think any number of women would be more than happy to accommodate you, especially with such a great deal of money at stake."
"My brother would see through such a scheme readily and challenge such an action."
"It is possible to actually fall in love in a very short period of time. Take Mrs. Willowby and me. I offered for her a week after we met."
Gregory, who had never met Mrs. Willowby, suddenly pictured the sharp-chinned solicitor with an equally sharp-chinned bride leading a trail of little pointy-chin youngsters. A sure reason to avoid matrimony. "Would that I could be so fortunate," Gregory murmured.
He stepped toward the solicitor and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, Willowby."
Willowby's clerk was gone when Gregory passed through the chamber again, drawing on his gloves before braving the day's chill. He hoped the clerk was off procuring a coat and shoes for the wretched lad now tending his horse.
The boy stood faithfully beside Gregory's mount, despite the snowflakes which settled into his blond hair. Gregory patted the lad's head. "I see you're as good as your word." He tossed the boy a crown. "It's much too cold for you to be outdoors without a coat. Be a good lad and go warm yourself in Mr. Willowby's second-floor office." Gregory shot a glance toward the building.
He watched the boy, clutching his coin, enter the building, then Gregory took a seat on the box and directed his conveyance down Bath's Milsom Street. Despite the bitter cold, he had no desire to return to his townhouse. He did not feel like making polite conversation or flashing insincere smiles. Though he had presented a stoic front to Willowby, Gregory felt lower than an adder's belly.
Once more, his father had played him cruelly in favor of Jonathan. Gregory wanted to hate his half-brother as he hated his father, but he could not. Jonathan was younger and smaller and always evoked a sense of protection in Gregory despite that his brother looked upon him as an opponent. Though they were just over two years apart in age, they had never been close. Jonathan resented it when Gregory was better at his sums or when Gregory's mount went faster than his. And Jonathan coveted whatever Gregory had, even though their tastes were vastly different. Gregory would weaken and give his brother the toy sword or the silver spurs or the book of poems Jonathan hungered after, only to watch dust cover them once they were in Jonathan's possession.
Gregory rode across Pulteney Bridge, which covered the frozen River Avon. He was too angry to take note of the chill in his bones. Never had it occurred to him that he would not live out his life in the extravagant style he had lived it these first four and twenty years.
It was different with Jonathan. Not only was he not raised with such expectations, he would never know what to do with such vast sums of money. Jonathan's life's passion was squeezing as much as he could out of a shilling. At his own lodgings in London, he denied himself what other young men of his class considered necessities. He kept no horse, nor a fire in his chamber, and he substituted inferior tallows for the better quality wax candles—and these used only sparingly. Gregory suspected his brother saved a goodly portion of his three hundred a year. Jonathan frequently put up at Sutton Manor to spare himself expenses.
Gregory could not understand Jonathan's frugal obsession. What good was money if it could not be used to purchase what made a soul happy? In one bleak second the full force of how perilously close he was to losing his fortune walloped Gregory. Good lord, would he have to give up his horses? And his tailor? And his gaming? His heart tripped. Would he have to dismiss Carlotta?
How was he to get along? He remembered when his best friend George had lost the little bit of fortune that he was left him by his viscount father. How had George managed before he married the sister of the fabulously wealthy Mr. Thomas Moreland?
Perhaps George would have some timely advice to offer. Damned if he wouldn't just ride over to Warwickshire and visit his viscount friend.
* * *
From the second floor window adjacent to Willowby's office, Jonathan Blankenship watched his brother get on his gig. With a satisfied smile on his face, Jonathan continued watching until Gregory crossed the River Avon. Now, to remove himself from the building without old man Willowby seeing him and knowing he had listened to everything.
Chapter 2
Diana was always right. Glee's merino pelisse would have offered little protection against the afternoon's dank chill. Even the emerald cloak Diana had suggested barely warmed Glee as she trod through the sodden land surrounding Hornsby Manor. Then there was also Diana's astute observation about Blanks. Her own subsequent admission liberated her from years of secret devotion. Glee's insides roiled and shook and settled into sweet anticipation as she contemplated Gregory Blankenship and her ardor for him.
The feelings which currently swamped her had always filled to capacity the innermost chamber of her heart. It had just taken Diana's sage observation to unleash them, drenching Glee in feelings she could not put a name to. Thoughts of Blanks aroused her in ways she had never before experienced. A bittersweet longing surged deep within her, a longing only Blanks could satisfy.
She lifted her skirts and crossed the brook over a submerged stone path, feeling feather light and not at all distressed over her wet slippers. She felt unaccountably womanly, ripe for the love shared by a man and a woman. A love that encompassed body and soul. Now she knew what had been missing from her life. Until she could capture Blanks's prurient heart, she could never be complete.
But how did one go about snaring such illusive love? Blanks's life had been little more than a series of playful pranks and illicit love. If only Blanks had admired a lady, then Glee might have some idea what type of woman appealed to him. She would have something to emulate. Instead, she had no clue. Never had he been attracted to a women whom he could bring home to the stern man who had been his father.
Perhaps, she thought hopefully, his father's death—and his own subsequent position as head of the house—would force him to mature, to want a wife and family. After all, he was four and twenty. The same as George. And look at how happily George had embraced matrimony and fatherhood.
Blanks's father's death also secured for him a fortune. Her heart hammered as she thought of how such blessed circumstances would attract lovely fortune hunters. As if his powerful good looks had not already made him one of the most desirable men in England. Drat. One more obstacle to her only happiness.
After leaving the thicket, she glimpsed a clear view of Hornsby Manor a half mile away. Its three stories of gray stones nearly blended with the murky skies of the same color. She heard the pounding of hooves from behind and turned to see a young man, great coat flapping behind him, galloping toward the manor. Had her thoughts conjured up Blanks? The man's mahogany hair and the elegant ease with which he sat his horse most certainly looked like Blanks. As he came closer, she realized the rider was, indeed, her secret love.
And her heartbeat accelerated. She ran her fingers through her tussled hair and turned to face him, biting into her lips to render them rosier. Now she was sorry she had taken Diana's advice and worn the ill-fitting voluminous cloak.
When he was within ten feet of her, a smile of recognition lighted his ruggedly handsome face. Unconsciously, she returned the smile as he dismounted and began to lead his bay behind him.
"Ah, Miss Pembroke, a pleasure to see you again," he said.
Though conversation had always come easily between them, Glee found herself at a loss for words. She stood stone still facing him, her teeth chattering. "Was George expecting you?" she finally managed.
He shook his head, impish doubt on his beguiling face. "Is that a problem?"
"Of course not," she reassured. "George will be utterly delighted to have you here, and I confess I, too, am glad of the company."
He fell into step beside her. "Devilishly cold, is it not?"
"Indeed it is," she managed.
He began to remove his many-layered woolen coat and drape it across her shoulders. "Can't have
your lovely teeth chattering."
She looked up at his darkly handsome face as he was looking down at her. The tip of her head barely came to his shoulders. She felt utterly feminine. "I cannot take your coat, Mr. Blankenship."
There it was. His bone-melting grin. She could swoon. "Mr. Blankenship?" he asked with mock indignation. "Since when did you decide to stop calling me Blanks?"
"You addressed me as Miss Pembroke, first, then there is the fact you are the head of your family now, and neither of us are children any longer." There! Let him think on that.
He took her hand, patted it and tucked it into the crook of his arm. Suddenly she was no longer cold, but warm and as content as a kitten in the sunshine.
"I must confess," she said, "I do prefer calling you Blanks."
"And I prefer to remember you as that charming little sister who snuck away from the schoolroom to follow George and me about in the wood." He let out a little chuckle. "Are you still afraid of frogs?"
Of course she was, but she was not about to admit it. "I'm not a silly child anymore," she said haughtily.
"How could I forget? The ravishing Miss Pembroke, Belle of Bath. Pray that your rejected suitors do not do in themselves."
He had noticed her success! This was very good. She still reveled from his compliment on her teeth and his gesture of shedding his own coat for her comfort. "While I'm languishing on the shelf, another younger lady will be sure to supplant me." This was good. Let him think of her as old enough to be on the shelf.
A hardy laugh broke from deep within his powerful chest. "I would hardly say you're on the shelf."
This was not at all what she wanted. "I suppose I'll have to take a husband next season whether I love him or not. I wish to be a married lady with a home of my own."
He stroked her arm. "Your prince will come. Give him time. After all you're not yet twenty."
So he remembered her age. This, too, was good. "I cannot tell you how wonderful it will be to have your company at Hornsby Manor. It's been dreadfully dull here. As you know, George and Diana are so perfectly besotted over each other, they make for most tedious company. You must promise to be my partner for whist tonight."
"You now play whist?"
She scowled again. "I will have you know I can beat George half the time."
"Then I will be happy to be your partner."
They walked along the gravel path that would place them at the front door of the manor house in less than a moment's time, and Glee slowed her steps to keep Blanks with her longer. "What brings you to Hornsby Manor?" She looked up into his manly face, admiring his dark flashing eyes. For once, he was not smiling.
"I've had some rather bad news."
Her brows plunged. "No!" First, his father's death. Now. . . what?
"It seems my financial expectations are not to be fulfilled. I need advice from George on how to live within reduced circumstances."
"Are you saying your father squandered away his fortune as our father did?"
"No, nothing like that. He apparently feared I would squander away his fortune."
"Then he left it to your younger brother?" she asked, her voice incredulous.
He nodded solemnly. "He did, indeed. Or close to it. His will stipulated that if I was not wed by my twenty-fifth birthday, the money and lands would go to Jonathan."
"Your twenty-fifth birthday is in June, is it not?"
"The sixteenth day of June."
"Then you'll simply have to marry by then." Her heart somersaulted. He was here surely for a few days. No other woman could get her clutches into him. Oh, she had her work cut out for her!
* * *
Keeping her mind on the card game proved difficult when Glee felt the solidness of Blanks' knee briefly touching hers under the table. An overwhelming envy of his current mistress seized her. What would it be like to lie with him? To have his long brown body stretched out beside her? She could picture his muscled torso, firm and strong. She could imagine trailing her fingers through a mass of hair on his rippled chest, for she instinctively knew dark hair would mat there. She ached to feel his arms come around her, pulling her into him. She grew hot and throbbed low in her belly. She longed to feel his firm mouth settling over her own. When he looked up and met her gaze, her face flushed.
It was terribly difficult to concentrate on her cards. His solemn face proved far more enticing. When he studied his cards, she studied him. She couldn't remember Blanks without that devastating smile of his revealing perfectly even, chalk white teeth. When he grinned, a dimple pinched his smooth brown cheek on one side only. But now as she watched him, he seemed somber, his jaw tightening, his mouth firm. She watched the flickering candlelight play with his closely cropped, slightly curly mahogany brown hair. Brows in the identical shade of brown hooded eyes the color of deep amber. His dark lashes lifted, and he shot her his familiar heart-stopping smile. Like an image reflecting off the pond, she instantly returned the smile.
She forced herself to keep her mind on the game. After all, she had to convince him she was mature and intelligent, to purge his mind of memories of a childish Glee. She counted trumps diligently. She defended her hand cunningly. She bid intelligently.
And she and Blanks won the first rubber. With his devastating grin dimpling his bronzed skin, he met her gaze. "It seems our Glee has grown up to be an admirable whist player."
Our Glee. Could she dare hope? She only smiled demurely and concentrated on the next hand. At least she gave the appearance of concentrating. Men did not desire to share their lives with talkative misses. And the only person in the world she wanted to share her life with faced her across the table. She dare not appear to be a talkative miss.
"She's a devilishly good whist player," George snapped. "I wish I could be smarter than one of my sisters. Daresay they're wise because they've always got their heads in a book."
"You're very wise," Diana assured her husband. "I doubt that Felicity or Glee could have turned the estate around as you have." Diana gave Glee an embarrassed look. "I mean no offense, dear sister."
"You only spoke the truth," Glee said.
"A good thing Diana forbid me to wager on the game," George said.
"Speaking of wagers, Blanks," Glee said, "you owe me a sovereign."
"Why?"
"Because I wagered that Jason Pope would marry before the year was out, and you insisted he would never be. . .shackled. I know it's terribly difficult for you to admit you were wrong."
His eyes hard and cold, Gregory tossed her a sovereign, still incapable of admitting he had been mistaken.
Glee turned back to her brother. "Shame on you for saying Diana forbid you to wager. "I daresay my sister is not so forceful as to forbid you anything."
"She has merely fooled you," George said. "My wife commands most sweetly."
"And George jumps happily through her hoops," Blanks declared.
George laughed. "You wait, my friend. Before the year is out I expect to find you shackled."
Diana's lovely face went solemn. "Shackled?"
Glee watched as George set his hand on his wife's, stroking it tenderly. "For Blanks, it's shackled. For me, it's heaven."
How Glee envied the love that bound her brother and Diana as eternally as the tide. She was almost embarrassed as Diana pursed her elegant lips and sent a kiss across the table at her beloved.
It was apparently more than Blanks could stand. "Who's bid?" he asked.
"I think it's yours, pet," George said to Glee. He never called his wife pet. She was always my love.
They played in relative silence, with Glee and Blanks winning the next rubber before the foursome retired for the night.
* * *
Sleep eluded Gregory. The solution to his dilemma had seemed so obvious to everyone. To Willowby. To Glee. And to George. Only Gregory knew how useless it was for him to contemplate marriage. He had long ago vowed to never marry. All of his sexual intimacies had been conducted with experienced women who knew h
ow to prevent pregnancy. He had no desire to impregnate a woman he valued and loved to lose her in childbed as he had lost his mother.
He had grown to hate his father for his mother's death and forcing an uncaring step-mother on him. Aurora had always despised Gregory for usurping her precious Jonathan from their father's vast fortune.
And now she had won. The fortune would be Jonathan's.
* * *
Sleep was the last thing Glee wanted. This all-encompassing love she felt for Blanks demanded contemplation. She could almost curse him for disrupting her heretofore placid existence, yet the sweet rapture of her love was intoxicating. It seemed her entire nineteen years had been but a prelude for this. This. This brink of fulfillment. This delicious arousal. This yearning to intertwine her life with his.
If only she knew more about him. Then she could commence on her plan to snag his heart. But he guarded his feelings as securely as a vault. That smile she had come to love so dearly was but a mask. Even his extravagant pranks and excessive living must conceal a man of deep feeling. If only she could penetrate the armor he had erected around his heart.
She bolted upright in her bed. How foolish she had been to expect to win his love! Never would that be freely given. No, she must not even try. He obviously feared such a commitment. What he needed now was a wife, not a love. For he was not ready for love. She must learn to take her happiness in feeble increments. First, she would have to convince him to marry her.
A marriage in name only.
Like a general with a battle plan, she would conquer his heart later.
One thing seemed clear. He had no desire to marry, even if it meant forfeiting his fortune. What was there about the state of marriage that could repulse him so?
Chapter 3
Only Blanks was in the breakfast parlor when Glee came down the following morning. George had persisted in coddling Diana since her confinement and insisted she take breakfast in bed. It was just as well. Glee intended to hoard Blank's company. Her heart did an odd flip when she stole a glance at him sitting at the walnut table, stirring his tea unconsciously while gazing out the window. Smoky half-moons rested under his eyes, and he seemed not at all the Blanks he carefully revealed to the world.