“You will not run from me.” His brandy fumes assaulted her nose.
Perfect. He was drunk as usual. A small giggle escaped. For once, she too was a little worse for drink. However, she needed the alcohol for courage, not to escape the mess she’d made of her life, as was her brother’s crime.
“I was not running. I need some air.”
“In the library?” His hand clamped down on her shoulder and swung her to face him. “I don’t think so. Lord Wickham danced with you – danced the waltz with you. You are the only unmarried woman at the ball tonight to receive such an honor.”
She kept quiet. It would do her no good to explain that the only reason the Earl danced with her was so he could keep an eye on Cassandra. A stab of envy hit her squarely below her left breast.
She removed her brother’s hand from her shoulder before his sweaty palms stained her dress. They didn’t have enough money to buy another. “That does not signify anything, Christopher. Go back to your drinking and leave me be.”
He leaned in close and tried to smile. His face distorted, and he looked like an old man pained from gout instead of a man just under thirty. He poked her shoulder with his finger. “We are nearing the end of the season. You will marry, and marry soon. Either you will accept Lord Carthors, or you will ensure Lord Wickham maintains his interest.”
She drew a steadying breath and gripped the dresser beside her. Damn the champagne. “Lord Carthors is close to seventy and would likely die in my arms upon the wedding bed.”
“Precisely. Then we’d be rich.”
“No. I’d be rich.”
Her brother growled. “Don’t play with me.”
She tried to push past him, to escape the conversation. But his arm rose to cage her in. She was trapped by the door at her back, Christopher’s arm and the large dresser on her right. “I will not marry a decrepit old man to save your skin.”
He laughed in her face and sneered. “Not just my skin. Yours too. If not for Cassandra’s generosity, we would be in the poor-house. Let’s see how long your principles last when the men running such establishments start pawing you.”
She kept her face blank, refusing to show how his threat affected her, but her stomach churned at the thought of what lay ahead of them, if either she or Christopher did not marry well.
“Miss. Trentworth is here tonight. If you are so worried about our position in society, line your pockets by marrying her. Her father is rich. The textile King they call him. Mr. Trentworth is after a title for his daughter.”
He stood up straight. “I’m not going to marry any girl with a face like a horse’s arse. It is my duty to see my young sister married first. At one and twenty you’ll be left on the shelf if you are not careful.” He hesitated and his demeanor altered. “Come now. If Carthors is not to your liking, surely Lord Wickham is. He is handsome, rich, and in his prime.”
She stamped her foot. “Don’t be ridiculous. Even if I did - admire his lordship - The Earl is legendary in his abhorrence for the state of matrimony. He wants Cassandra as his mistress and I’m sure she’s willing to oblige. Why would he be interested in me?”
“You look exactly like Cassandra. He could take her as his mistress and you as his wife. His mother is determined he marry this Season. They need an heir. Wickham’s father has been dead ten years. Wickham is in his mid thirties. It’s time.”
Melissa’s hands fisted in the sides of her dress, to stop herself slapping her brother’s face. How could he be so indifferent to his own flesh and blood? He wouldn’t marry a woman not to his liking, yet he was quite willing to barter her off, giving her away to be used as a brood mare, so long as his debts were paid. Well, she had other ideas.
Seeing the determined look in her brother’s bloodshot eyes, she tried another tack. “What would Cassandra say if I tried to woo the Earl? Perhaps she wishes to marry him. If she becomes annoyed, we will be flung into the streets. I can’t see the Earl or any other man wanting to marry me then.”
His face paled at her words. Distracted by his thoughts, Melissa reached behind her and turned the latch. It released with a loud snap. Before she could escape, her brother grabbed her arm. “Then it will be Carthors. By the end of the season you will become engaged, either to a man of your own choosing or Carthors. Am I clear?”
Melissa fought the tears filling her eyes at his painful hold. “Let me go.” She tugged her arm free; the sound of the material ripping startled them both. “Perfect. Now look what you have done,” she snapped. Anger propelled her to defy him. “I won’t marry Lord Carthors. You’ll have to drag me kicking and screaming in front of the vicar to ever get me to marry that old leech.”
He simply smiled. “Not if I give you a few drops of laudanum. That would subdue you. You’d be pliant all the way to the altar.” Christopher crowded her against the doorframe. “Don’t underestimate me, Melissa. Come the end of the Season you will be married. To whom, is your choice. If you don’t want Carthors then pick someone else –- as long as they are rich.”
Melissa stepped into the library and slammed the door in her brother’s face.
#
Christopher swayed his way back across the ballroom, failing to notice the man stepping out of the shadows from the other side of the large oak dresser.
Richard had heard every word of the siblings’ conversation and it was as he thought. The plan he’d set in motion would be welcomed by all concerned – except his brother. He could live with that. Eventually, he felt sure; Anthony would come to thank him for his deception.
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About Bron:
New Zealander Bronwen Evans grew up loving books She’s always indulged her love for story-telling, and is constantly gobbling up movies, books and theatre. Her head is filled with characters and stories, particularly lovers in angst. Is it any wonder she’s a proud romance writer?
She writes both historical and contemporary sexy romances for the modern woman who likes intelligent, spirited heroines, and compassionate alpha heroes. Her debut Regency romance, Invitation to Ruin won the RomCon 2012 Readers Crown Best Historical and was an RT Reviewers’ Choice Nominee Best First Historical 2011. To Dare the Duke of Dangerfield is a FINALIST in the Kindle Book Review Indie Romance Book of the Year 2012. Look out for her first Entangled Publishing Indulgence release in Fall 2012, The Italian Conte’s Reluctant Bride.
Bronwen loves hearing from avid romance readers at [email protected]
You can keep up with Bronwen’s news by visiting her website www.bronwenevans.com
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
To Challenge the Earl of Cravenswood (Wicked Wagers 3) Page 17