by Tonya Brooks
Oh, he could seduce her easily enough, and she didn't doubt that he did desire her, but his petite, blonde, blue eyed mistress was obviously the woman he really wanted. She was the one he had chosen to share his bed. The one he had shared his problems with. Marriage to Scarlett was just another duty, another responsibility, another burden for the honorable Duke of Ryder to stoically bear.
Her head came up, and she angrily dashed the tears from her cheeks. No, by God. Pride would never allow her to marry any man under those conditions. Not even the one she loved. There had to be a way to break this blasted engagement and by all that was holy, she would find it. Starting tonight. Pulling the door open, she strode determinedly back to the ballroom to begin her campaign.
Chapter Twenty Four
Devil's Keep, England, 1806
Devlin and Dare returned from their ride and he carried the laughing four-year-old in the house atop his shoulders. Swinging him down from his perch, he instructed the boy to go get cleaned up for breakfast and then made his way toward his study. Passing the open library doors, he saw Nicholas and Scarlett sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor with dozens of books lying open around them, their bent heads close together as they discussed an aged tome.
“We haven't even had breakfast yet and you've already got half the library on the floor, minx,” he commented in amusement and wondered what she was studying now. His sister’s thirst for knowledge appeared to be insatiable and since she seemed to enjoy learning so much, he indulged her with tutors in whatever subject she chose to pursue.
“Not yet, but she's working on it,” Nicholas agreed with a grin. A scholar himself, the young duke spent a great deal of time assisting Scarlett in her studies and both men knew her habits well. She really would have half the books in the library spread out before she was finished.
Twelve-year-old Scarlett looked up at her brother with a confused frown and asked, “Can I invite Uncle Archie to come for a visit, Dev?”
Their great Uncle Archibald was the Archbishop of Canterbury and rarely had time to visit the family, thank God. Devlin did not care to be subjected to lectures on his sinful habits and Uncle Archie insisted upon doing so each and every time they met. He loved the old fellow and did enjoy his company, but only in very small increments. “If you'd like,” he agreed hesitantly. “Any particular reason why?”
“Nicky thinks he might be able to help me with my studies,” she explained.
The two twenty-four-year-old men shared a look and Nicholas nodded solemnly, though the midnight eyes were dancing with pure devilment. “Who better to explain the origins of the universe than a man of God?” He queried.
“The origins of the universe?” Devlin repeated warily since he knew that devilish look well. Nicholas knew something that he didn't. Oh, hell. What was Scarlett up to this time?
“Yes,” Scarlett agreed in all seriousness. “I've been studying a variety of religions and they all claim that their god created the universe and everything in it, but none of them believe in the same god. Now, if what they claim is true, and several gods had all done the same thing, they should each have their own universe. So how is it that we all live right here on the same planet? That error alone leaves me wondering if any of them are correct or if it’s all just a pack of lies and there is no god.”
Good God! No wonder Nicholas was enjoying this so much, the bloody ass.
“I see,” he nodded solemnly and realized that he had seriously erred by not taking her to church as their parents had. Perhaps he should start sending Scarlett to Sunday services again... after this bit of confusion was cleared up. The vicar would have a fit of apoplexy if faced with his sister’s logic, because she made a damn good point. “I do believe Uncle Archie can clear this up for you, minx.”
“Not by himself,” she denied. “Uncle Archie believes in the god of Christianity, who oddly enough also happens to be the Jewish god, which is deuced confusing since the religions differ so much. So I need to have discussions with other religious leaders as well. Do you know any, Dev?”
The scandalous rake barely managed to choke back a laugh at that. “Can't say that I do,” he denied with a straight face.
“Nicky doesn't either. Do you think you could locate a half dozen or so from the different religions and invite them to come for a visit?” She asked hopefully. “I think a debate would help me a great deal.”
Nicholas faked a coughing fit to try to hide his laughter at his friend’s expression. Devlin was appalled at the thought of his home being overrun with men of god from any religion. Bloody hell. They'd all probably try to redeem his rotten soul. “Tell ya what, minx. Let's start with Uncle Archie and if he can't clear things up, we'll go from there,” he suggested.
“All right,” she sighed in resignation and then fixed him with a mutinous expression. “But I'm warning you, I won't be swayed to his beliefs just because he's family. I want proof that the Bible is correct or I'm not going to believe it.”
Devlin couldn't help it. He roared with laughter. Uncle Archie was gonna have a fit. His great niece was a heretic!
Chapter Twenty Five
Langford House, London, England, 1812
Blaise stepped inside the billiard room, saw his cousins, Ryder, a few of their friends as well as a handful of other lords, and said in a cold, hard tone meant to be obeyed, “Give us the room, gentlemen.” When the men quickly filed out, he turned to Devlin and demanded angrily, “Tell me that Ryder and Scarlett don't have a damned betrothal contract.”
“Bloody hell,” Devlin growled.
“How the hell do you know about that?” Nicholas snapped and looked accusingly at his oldest friend.
“I didn't tell a damn soul,” Devlin denied.
“Neither did I,” Nicholas insisted.
“So it's true,” the Earl of Flamecrest seethed furiously. He himself was trapped by a damnable contract his parents had made, and the thought of his cousin being in the same predicament was intolerable.
“Yes, there is a contract,” Devlin admitted heavily. “But it’s not what you think.”
“Then maybe you should explain it to me,” Blaise demanded, incensed that the rumor was true.
“You'd better have a damn good reason,” Stefan injected, and it was obvious that he did not like what he was hearing either.
“It was for Scarlett's protection,” the duke stressed. “If anything happened to me before she came of age, I wanted to know she'd be taken care of. Marriage to Nick would ensure that.”
That answer did not pacify the other men in the slightest. In fact, it managed to anger them even further. To suggest that her own family would not have taken care of her was an unforgivable insult.
“The fact that she's an Ashbrook ensured that, dammit,” Blaise informed the pair in righteous indignation. Hell, he shirked the majority of his responsibilities, but even he would have made sure his cousin was taken care of.
Blaise had every intention of taking his cousin to task for the slight on their family, but for now he had a more pressing issue to resolve. “And now that she is of age?” He interjected, not at all liking the idea of Scarlett being forced to marry because of a betrothal contract instead of choosing her own husband. “Are you holding her to the contract?”
“Hell, no,” Nicholas flatly denied and obviously did not appreciate the implication that he would behave in such a manner.
“Why the hell would I make her have a bloody season if I were going to hold her to the contract?” Devlin growled indignantly.
“So, she's marrying Nick because she wants to?” Blaise pressed. He knew Nicholas was in love with Scarlett, but that did not mean his cousin shared the sentiment. Last night she hadn't looked all that happy about the engagement and he'd be damned if he'd allow her to be forced into a marriage she did not want.
~~~~~
Devlin was hesitant to answer that. He didn't want to come right out and lie to his cousins, nor could he in good conscience tell them the truth. Alt
hough he was grateful that they were genuinely concerned about his sisters' welfare, it was none of their damn business how he handled the situation. Unfortunately, he knew them well enough to know the men in his family would not react well to being told to mind their own goddamn business. Fortunately, Nicholas saved him from having to respond.
~~~~~
After their passionate interlude in the garden, Nicholas had no qualms about apprising them of the situation. “Not a half an hour ago, Scarlett informed me that she was going to like being my duchess.”
“Oh, I say,” Dexter said with a frown. “This gives Ryder a decidedly unfair advantage.”
All five men gave the viscount a puzzled look, but Tony was the one to ask, “With what, Dex?”
“The wager that Scarlett would be the most amiable of wives,” he reminded them, looking more than a bit confused. “Since Nick is the one who made the wager, and he's the man she's going to marry, shouldn't that disqualify him? I mean he is hedging his bet after all.”
“Can't say as I blame him since he's also the one with the most at stake if he's wrong,” Tony pointed out in droll humor.
Ignoring the other men’s comments, Devlin asked, “How did you find out about the contract?”
“Taran overheard some old harridans gossiping about it,” Blaise informed them. “She ran into me while she was looking for Scarlett, who seems to have disappeared.”
“Dammit, Dev, if Scarlett hears this there's no telling what she'll do,” Nicholas growled in frustration as he headed to the door with Langford hot on his heels. The last thing he needed was yet another delay in his plans. The sooner he wedded and bedded the woman, the better off they would both be.
~~~~~
The two men separated once they entered the ballroom and began to look for her. Devlin spotted her first. One look at the glittering eyes and stormy expression was all it took to know that his sister was in a towering rage. Bloody hell. This was not good. When she was angry, Scarlett was as unpredictable as a poisonous viper and twice as deadly. He needed to nip this in the bud fast.
“All right, minx. What ruffled your feathers?” He asked patiently and prayed she hadn't heard the rumor. There would be hell to pay if she did, and he seriously doubted she'd ever forgive him for this.
Fixing him with a bland look, she replied evenly, “I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Devlin. I'm having a wonderful time.”
“Like hell,” he muttered and wasn't about to be put off that easily. “Tell me what’s wrong, Scarlett.”
Lifting a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, she drained the contents in one swallow and flashed her brother an artificial smile. “I suggest you smile, Dev. I'm going to be the Duchess of Ryder. There's not a woman in this ballroom that wouldn't trade places with me, and you know it.” She threw his words back in his face without an ounce of remorse for the guilt they caused.
“Unfortunately, I have no desire to marry, but then you know that, too,” Scarlett pointed out, and the hurt shown in her eyes. “The problem is, you just don't give a damn.” That said, she handed him the empty glass and moved on through the crowd lining the dance floor.
~~~~~
To everyone’s complete disbelief, when her engagement was mentioned, Scarlett made no pretense about the fact that her brother had chosen her groom for her, and she had little choice but to comply with the arranged marriage. She proceeded to win the gossip mongering matrons over to her side with charming tales about her childhood. Like how Nicholas had taught her to fish and swim and ride her pony.
“Why, Ryder did everything except change my nappies as a baby,” she informed them with a fond smile that faded to a deep sadness she didn't have to pretend. “He's always been like an older brother to me, you see. The thought of a marriage between us... well, it's almost incestuous.” Much to her delight, the matrons all agreed.
Scarlett danced and smiled as if she hadn't a care in the world and no one had a clue that her tender heart had been shattered by the cold, hard truth. Nicholas was being forced to marry her and now he was attempting to make the best of a bad situation by dumping her in the country to produce his heirs.
Her faint hope of their having a happy marriage had been destroyed in the cruelest way imaginable, by the very woman who would continue to share a Nicholas's bed. The woman that he had chosen.
How Scarlett hated the elegant and sophisticated Lady Lettice Housden. Oh, yes. She had made a point of finding out who the other woman was, from a rather loose lipped matron who looked upon the widowed paramour with a great deal of disdain. It seemed that Nicholas was not her first protector, nor would he be the last, Lady Felicity predicted in derision.
Determined not to let anyone know her pain, Scarlett began to flirt outrageously with her devoted circle of suitors, as well as a multitude of gentlemen that she had previously shunned. She also paid altogether too much attention to Viscount Carstairs of all people. How on earth could a woman prefer that wet behind the ears pup to a man like Ryder, the guests whispered among themselves.
~~~~~
Devlin was absolutely livid over her behavior, as was Nicholas, but neither of them knew precisely what had caused it or what to do about it. The fact that Scarlett was not happy about her engagement was more than obvious. Determined to get to the bottom of this nonsense and put a stop to it once and for all, Nicholas made his way through the throng of admirers, took his fiancé’s arm in a possessive hold and said, “I believe this is my dance, Lady Scarlett.”
A mutinous look flashed over her face before it quickly became a bland expression again. “Certainly, Your Grace,” she replied in the coolest tone he'd ever heard from her, and allowed Nicholas to lead her onto the floor.
“All right, kitten,” he said patiently. “What's got your back up this time?”
“I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Your Grace,” came the stiff response.
Muttering a curse under his breath, Nicholas tightened his hold on her fractionally and demanded, “What the hell is wrong with you, Scarlett?”
“Not a thing,” she denied and even managed to flash him that artificial smile she'd been giving everyone else. “I'm having a lovely time, Your Grace.”
“Stop calling me that, dammit,” he growled in annoyance.
“It would be entirely inappropriate for me to address you less formally,” she informed him just as primly as Mrs. Dasher had taught her. “Would you prefer Ryder?”
“I prefer Nicky,” he snapped, the last of his patience slipping away in the face of her continued obstinacy. Holy hell. Who was this prim and proper little miss and what the hell had she done with his spirited hoyden?
She actually had the gall to sniff disdainfully at that and lifted her arrogant little nose in the air. “I've put such childish names behind me, Nicholas. Now that I'm going to be a duchess, I have to comport myself with the utmost dignity and sophistication,” Scarlett informed him loftily.
Nicholas actually had to set his back teeth to bite back a scathing retort at that bit of nonsense. His expression one of pure disgruntlement, he led her off the dance floor and out into the garden where they could have a modicum of privacy. “You will cease this infernal behavior at once,” he commanded in a tone that would brook no resistance.
~~~~~
Nicholas had never used that commanding tone with her before and she wasn't about to tolerate it from him now. Squaring her shoulders for battle, Scarlett began in a haughty manner that would have made any duchess proud, “I am merely attempting to...”
~~~~~
“Drive me stark raving mad,” he snapped and barely resisted the urge to shake her. For the first time in her life, Nicholas lost all patience with Scarlett. “You will stop behaving like this, or so help me, I'll put you over my knee and blister your arse.”
It was a lie, and he knew it. When Nicholas finally managed to get his hands on that perfect bottom, the last thing he'd do was spank it. The all too compelling image of his lips tenderly kissing those r
ounded globes, his teeth lovingly nipping that smooth, silky flesh, had him pulling her into his arms to kiss her senseless.
~~~~~
Scarlett reveled in the mastery of his kiss, gloried in it even, but her battered spirit simply would not allow him to seduce his way back into her good graces. As soon as Nicholas released her, her fist shot out and connected to his cheekbone with a solid thwack. Unaware of the other guests who had gathered on the veranda, the couple stood there glaring at each other, their breathing labored and the air around them fairly crackled with tension.
“I told you once that an intelligent woman would never allow a man to seduce her unless she wanted him to,” she reminded him in a voice dripping with icy contempt and wanted nothing more than to wound him as deeply as her own heart had been pierced. “I. Don't. Want. You.”
~~~~~
“Liar,” the word hissed softly from between his clenched teeth and it took every ounce of will power that Nicholas possessed not to prove that fact to her.
~~~~~
Stung by the naked truth, but unwilling to admit it even to herself, Scarlett hissed back at him, “Until I suffer the misfortune of becoming your wife, you will bloody well keep your damn hands off of me, Your Grace.”
“Stop trying to be something you're not, Scarlett,” he stated flatly, infuriated by her stubbornness. “I prefer a hoyden to a cold bitch.”
Green fire flashed in her eyes. “You want a hoyden?” She growled. “Then a hoyden you shall have.” That said, she stalked back toward the ballroom in high dudgeon. Damn him. She'd show him just how outrageous a hoyden could behave. And if he dared complain, she'd geld the womanizing bastard.
The first person she saw was Viscount Carstairs standing there staring at her in astonishment. A determined glint in her eyes, Scarlett placed her hand on the young man’s arm and said, “I'm quite parched, Geoffrey. Shall we get a glass of champagne?”