The Husband List

by Victoria Alexander

  Richard drew a deep breath. “Are you familiar with your relations in America?”

  “My grandfather’s brothers?”

  Richard nodded.

  “I’m aware of their existence, but I really know very little about them.”

  “Well, Thomas, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but one has recently died. He did, however, leave a considerable fortune. And he bequeathed it to your sister.” Quickly, Richard told Thomas the details of Gillian’s legacy and the conditions it carried.

  Thomas blew a long, low whistle. “Six hundred thousand pounds, eight ships—”

  “More or less.”

  “And a great deal of land.” Thomas’s eyes glazed with shock.

  “In America,” Richard added and watched Thomas carefully. Under other circumstances, the stunned look on his friend’s face would have been amusing.

  “Bloody hell.” Thomas downed the rest of his drink. “And you say Gillian has agreed to a real marriage between the two of you?”

  Richard nodded. He hadn’t told Thomas all the specific details of his agreement with Gillian and how she had fully proved she could live up to them. Thomas was, after all, her brother.

  “Then I have but one question.” A slow grin spread across Thomas’s face. “When is the wedding?”

  “The wedding?” Richard wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he’d expected, but this wasn’t it. “Then you approve?”

  “Approve?” Thomas slapped him on the back. “Of course, I approve. I can’t blame Gillian for wanting such a fortune. I’m only grateful she selected you. She had a list, you say?”

  Richard nodded.

  “A list. And you at the top of it.” Thomas chuckled. “Well, she’s always been rather too independent for a woman. This solves her problems and yours as well. It’s perfect for both of you.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Six hundred thousand pounds.”

  Richard smiled wryly. “Not to mention the ships and the land.”

  Thomas turned to the sideboard and refilled his glass, then offered the decanter to Richard. Richard held out his snifter and Thomas obligingly splashed in the liquor, then replaced the decanter.

  “I must say, I’m relieved by your reaction,” Richard said. “How do you think the rest of your family will take this?”

  “You’ve already made a good impression on my mother and my aunts.”

  “Have I?”

  Thomas laughed. “Don’t think for a moment you haven’t been the subject of a great deal of discussion since your arrival. From what my mother said”—Richard raised a brow—“oh yes, I have been thoroughly quizzed about you. At any rate she said you were quite charming without being overbearing. They like that.”

  “What about my past?” He hesitated. “My father?”

  Thomas shrugged. “Your father’s actions are of no concern to my family. We Effingtons tend to judge a man more by who he is rather than his parentage. Odd, I know, but there you have it. After all, there are any number in our lineage who were scoundrels in their own day.

  “As for your past,” Thomas lifted his glass to him, “you are a reformed rake, and the Effington women, one and all, are of the opinion a reformed rake makes the best husband.”

  “So there should be no objections,” Richard said under his breath.

  “Then why are you hesitating?” Thomas’s voice was sharp.

  “I’m not—”

  “Oh, but you are.” Thomas’s gaze pinned his.

  “Don’t forget, Richard, I know you nearly as well as you know yourself. In this case, perhaps even better. Besides, you said you rather expected to marry her. Not entirely definitive to my mind.” His voice softened. “This is the answer to your prayers and you may be the best thing to happen to my sister in years, so why, old friend, are you reluctant to see it through?”

  “I’m not …” Richard shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  Thomas stared for a long, considering moment. Then his eyes widened and he laughed.

  “There is nothing funny about this,” Richard said indignantly. “This is about my future and your sister’s future as well. What do you find in this situation that’s even remotely amusing?”

  “You.” Thomas aimed his glass at him. “You’re in love with her.”

  “I am not.” Even to his own ears, his denial lacked a ring of truth.

  “Oh, you may not want to admit it—”

  “Because it’s not true.” Why was there no conviction in his voice?

  “No?” Thomas snorted. “I’ve known you for too many years, Richard, to accept that. If you didn’t love her you would have procured a special license and be married by now.”

  “I have a special license,” he muttered. “I got it when this whole thing began.”

  “But you haven’t used it. Why not?”

  Why not indeed? Hadn’t he been asking himself the same question? “The opportunity hasn’t—”

  “Come now. What utter nonsense. I don’t believe it for a moment. What I do believe is, because you love her—”

  “I don’t know that.”

  “—you are now finding it difficult to go ahead with this arrangement because …” Thomas eyed him with the same concentration he’d use to study a billiards shot. “In spite of the promise of great fortune that alone isn’t enough.”

  “No?” Richard downed his brandy, set the glass on the sideboard, then turned back to the billiards table. He picked up the red ball and shifted it from hand to hand. “Well then, Thomas, since you seem to have a better grasp on all this than I do, you tell me. If six hundred thousand pounds, eight ships—”

  “More or less.”

  “—and land in America isn’t enough, what is?”

  “Love.” Thomas smirked.

  “Love?” Richard scoffed. “I told you, I don’t—”

  “Oh, but you do. Only a man in love would sport a smile as stupid as the one on your face. You look like a smitten schoolboy. And what you’re waiting for,” Thomas paused dramatically, “is for her to love you as well.”

  “I rather doubt that.” Richard’s voice was firm, but his stomach twisted at the abrupt realization that Thomas was more than likely right.

  “You really needn’t worry, old man, I suspect Gillian does indeed love you.”

  “Why would you say that?” Richard said slowly.

  “She brought you, for one thing. She could have simply married you without subjecting you to the scrutiny of the whole family. Besides, regardless of the circumstances, I rather doubt my sister would truly marry anyone she didn’t love.”

  “Do you think so?” Richard kept his manner offhand, but he couldn’t hold back a smile.

  “I do,” Thomas grinned.

  An odd sense of joy washed through Richard. Was Thomas right? Did Gillian indeed love him?

  “Richard loves Gillian,” Thomas said in a singsong manner.

  “Now who’s acting like a schoolboy?”

  “I can’t help it. I find it quite entertaining, and I can scarcely wait to see what happens next. You get my sister, you both get an impressive fortune,” Thomas’s grin widened, “and Gillian gets Etienne-Louis Toussaint in the bargain.”

  “Ah yes.” Richard’s smile faded. “Etienne-Louis. How could I have forgotten?”

  Thomas frowned. “Whatever is the matter now, Richard? No doubt Gillian will be delighted by the revelation of your secret life.”

  “Delighted might not be the appropriate word,” Richard said under his breath.

  “Why on earth not? I daresay she’s—”

  The door to the billiards room swung open, and a small, elderly lady with a regal bearing stepped into the room. “Good evening, Thomas.”

  “Grandmother.” Thomas set his glass on the table and hurried to her side. She tilted her face toward him, and he placed an affectionate kiss on her cheek.

  So this was the dowager duchess, the matriarch of the Effington family. By reputation she was quite formidable, but Gillian had as
sured him she was not as daunting as she might appear. Still, Richard had no experience with dowagers of any sort, let alone those who headed large, noble, and wealthy families.

  “Grandmother,” Thomas turned to Richard, “I don’t think you’ve met the Earl of Shelbrooke yet.”

  “No, but I have heard a great deal about him.” She held out her hand.

  Richard dropped the ball onto the table, stepped to her, and took her hand in his. He bowed and brushed his lips across it. “Your Grace.”

  He straightened, and her gaze met his. Her eyes were blue and bright and nearly the same shade as Gillian’s. An amused light twinkled there.

  “Thomas,” she said without looking at her grandson, “are you finished with your game?”

  “Not quite.”

  “Even so you may take your leave,” she said, her manner pleasant but firm.

  “Grandmother, do you really think—”

  “Yes, Thomas, I do.”

  A distinct look of unease crossed Thomas’s face. He glanced at Richard apologetically. “Very well, then. Richard.” He nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.

  The dowager smiled. “He’s quite concerned for you, my lord, but I can assure you I am not the dragon you may think.”

  “I thought nothing of the sort, madam.”

  She laughed. “Liar.”

  He grinned. “You do have a daunting reputation.”

  “One I have done all in my power to earn.” She stepped to the billiards table and ran her hand along the edge. “Entertaining game, billiards.”

  “Do you play?”

  “On occasion. I quite like it.” She slanted him a sharp glance. “You needn’t look so startled. I have been on this earth for nearly eighty years, but I am not yet dead.”

  “Would you care for a game?”

  “Not at the moment. You would, no doubt, consider it only polite to allow me to win.” She circled the table slowly. “And while I do enjoy winning, I have always preferred victory on my own terms.”

  Richard chuckled. “I’m not surprised.”

  “I didn’t think you would be.” Her gaze pinned his. “And I am not disappointed.”

  “Disappointed?”

  She ignored him and continued around the table. “I have been a widow now for fully a third of my life. I know what it is to lose a husband, a first love. For some, such as myself, there is one and only one love. I am grateful Gillian is not among those ranks. And I approve of her choice.”

  “Her choice?” he said cautiously.

  “Come now, my lord, you know exactly what I am talking about, although I do admire your reluctance to reveal a confidence that is not yours to divulge.”

  “You know,” he said slowly.

  “My dear boy,” she said in a patronizing manner,

  “I know everything. I make it my business to know.”

  “Does Gillian’s father, or rather, does the duke, know?”

  “I doubt it. He would never allow her to agree to the conditions of the legacy.”

  He chose his words with care. “But you will?”

  “Not at all. And if her involvement with you at this point had nothing else to it than her inheritance I would put a stop to the entire endeavor at once. However, I decided from the beginning to see how this game of yours played out. I know my granddaughter well enough to know that no matter how tempting the reward, she would never settle for someone she did not care for deeply. I am quite pleased.”

  “You are?” He was curious in spite of himself. “Why?”

  She laughed. “You are a rather remarkable creature, Lord Shelbrooke. It has taken a great deal of moral courage to turn your life around, to accept the responsibilities thrust upon you.” She picked up the cue leaning against the table and studied the tip. “And I quite admire the way you’ve used your talent to try to recoup your family’s fortune.”

  He widened his eyes in surprise. “My talent?”

  Her amused gaze caught his. “I told you I know everything.”

  “Thomas,” he muttered.

  “Do not blame him too harshly, he is your true friend and I’m confident he has told no one else your secret.” She smiled smugly. “But the boy has never been able to keep secrets from me.”

  “I can certainly understand that,” he said wryly.

  “Do you know you come by that talent naturally?”

  “What do you mean?”

  She studied him for a long moment, then nodded as if making a decision. “In due time. It’s of no significance at the moment.”

  “Am I to understand then that you are allowed to keep your secrets but I am not?” he said in a teasing manner.

  “You are an intelligent scoundrel, I’ll grant you that. You will make a fine addition to the family. I am quite looking forward to your children.” She chuckled. “Now then, my lord, I find I am up to a game after all. Will you allow me to win?”

  “Absolutely not.” He grinned.

  “Excellent.” He arranged the balls on the table, and she leaned forward and positioned her cue, then glanced up at him. “Are you aware that Marie Antoinette and the king of France are said to have played billiards on the eve of their imprisonment?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “Pity. Then you don’t know the outcome of their game.” The dowager cast him a serene smile. “She won.”

  Perhaps there was something to this business of love after all. Something that made the lights in the ballroom brighter, the colors of the women’s gowns more vivid, his senses more acute. Something that made it impossible to keep his gaze off Gillian.

  At the moment, she danced with a gentleman he didn’t know and, further, didn’t like. He sipped the champagne in his glass irritably. Didn’t her partner hold her a bit too close? Wasn’t her laugh a touch too joyous? Was this, then, jealousy? Irrational, no doubt, but present nonetheless.

  He suspected Thomas was right. Richard, who had never considered love at all, was apparently now in the grips of the odd and disquieting emotion. He was a practical man, and his feelings were not at all practical. Or rational. Or even sane.

  Rational or not, the man definitely held her too close.

  Was Thomas right about his sister as well? Thomas and his grandmother both believed Gillian shared Richard’s feelings. Richard wished he could be as certain.

  How could he find out? Was she in love with him, or was she simply swept away by the kind of passion she hadn’t tasted in years? He had no doubt she enjoyed being in his bed, but even he realized the act of love was not the same as the emotion. He could, of course, simply ask her. But was he ready to hear her answer?

  If her partner didn’t stop clutching her at once, Richard would be forced to take action.

  At first, she’d wanted marriage for her inheritance. He’d wanted a wife for his future.

  Now he wanted so much more. But did she? And could he bear it if she didn’t? He’d never considered himself a coward, but there it was: he didn’t have the courage to face her answer. It was no longer a question of his pride: it was a question of his heart. Damnable heart.

  The dance ended, and her gaze met his. Was the look in her eye born of love or merely desire? Love was not part of their agreement. Not expected, not demanded. But now …

  Thomas was right. Richard couldn’t marry her for the legacy alone regardless of his need for her fortune, regardless of his need for her. He had to have her love as well.

  She started toward him, and he could see nothing else in the crowded ballroom but her. She filled his gaze and his mind and his soul. He wanted to paint her and nothing but her forever.

  What did she want?

  For a practical man, he was indeed something of a fool. But for good or ill, he had to know. Had to determine her true feelings. But how?

  She reached him and paused, her smile quizzical. “Whatever are you thinking?” She took the glass from his hand, drained the last of his wine, then returned it. “You look as though you we
re trying to determine matters a great deal more important than those to be found in the strains of a waltz.”

  “Do I?” He forced a casual note.

  “What is on your mind, Richard?” She gazed up at him. Was it love that shone in her eyes or something less?

  “Nothing more important than the next dance.” He signaled to a waiter and placed his empty glass on the tray. “Will you do me the honor?”

  “Always.”

  He led her onto the floor and took her in his arms, amazed at how perfectly her body fit to his. They were meant for each other. How odd that he should be the one to think such things.

  “Because you pose no threat to my heart!”

  The words she’d said in his studio came to mind with the swiftness of a fired shot. She’d admitted more of her feelings to him as Toussaint than she’d ever admitted to him as Richard. Perhaps once again he could break through her reticence, not as an earl but as an artist.

  The longer he played this game of deception, the stronger her fury when she learned the truth. And the stakes for all concerned were much higher now. Still, it was worth the risk.

  If the Earl of Shelbrooke didn’t have the courage to find out if the woman he loved, loved him in return, Etienne-Louis Toussaint was more than up to the task.

  Chapter 16

  Whatever had possessed her to come here again?

  Gillian reclined on the chaise in the dark studio. This was the height of foolishness.

  When Toussaint’s note had arrived arranging another sitting two days after she’d returned to London, she’d had no intention of keeping the appointment. Still, the more she’d thought about it, the more she’d been convinced she had nothing to fear by coming here.

  So far, the Frenchman had kept his distance. She’d been posing for nearly an hour, and they hadn’t exchanged more than a few polite comments. He’d been, in fact, both cool and remote. Exactly as she wanted it.

  She loved Richard, or at least she was fairly certain she did. Surely, her feelings for him went far beyond the powerful sensations he triggered with nothing more than a smoldering glance or a casual brush of his hand or a simple kiss. And if indeed she were in love with one man, the flirtatious overtures of another wouldn’t affect her in the least. It was simply curiosity that brought her to Toussaint’s studio. Nothing more than that. Once she knew for certain he had no real effect on her, she could put the tiny seed of doubt in her own mind to rest.