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‘Lance...’
‘Oh, don’t look at me like that. You know I prefer to swim in the shallows.’
‘No, you like to swim out of your depth and not think about it.’
‘What’s the difference?’
Arthur shook his head remonstratively. ‘The difference is that one day you might want to stand up in the water and not be able to. You ought to look under the surface once in a while.’
‘Duly noted. I’ll read the obituaries tomorrow.’
‘That’s not what I meant.’
‘I know, but it’s the best I can do.’ Lance tossed back the last of his brandy and deposited the glass on a passing tray. ‘So what’s she like, your new bride?’
‘Her name’s Violet and she’s not my bride, not yet anyway. I’ve no idea what she looks like, never mind the rest, and nobody else seems to know either. Harper’s kept her locked away in that redbrick mausoleum he calls a house her whole life. So far as I know this is the first time she’s been out in society.’
‘Well, if she’s anything like Harper...’ Lance started to laugh and then stopped himself. ‘Sorry. But at least you know she’ll be obedient. She couldn’t not be, growing up with him. That can’t have been easy.’
‘True,’ Arthur conceded. ‘I’ve never understood how Father could be friends with that old tyrant.’
‘Something to do with money, I expect. She’ll be as rich as Croesus some day. But you know if you’re supposed to be meeting your prospective bride, you ought to take your eyes off Lydia Webster. You’ve been acting like a lovesick puppy all evening.’
‘Is it that obvious?’ Arthur’s cheekbones suffused with colour.
‘Only to me and everyone else in the room.’
‘I can’t help it, Lance. She’s the most exquisite creature I’ve ever laid eyes on. I’m in love.’
‘With Lydia Webster?’ Lance took a second glance across the ballroom to make sure they were talking about the same woman. ‘She’s a flirt and a gold-digger, and a pretty shameless one, too. She’d throw you over the moment she found out about our family finances, or lack of them, I should say. Better take your chances with Miss Harper.’
‘Don’t!’ Arthur’s face displayed a rare flash of temper. ‘Don’t speak of her like that.’
‘I’m only trying to stop you making a mistake.’
‘No, you’re treating me the same way Father does, as if I can’t think for myself. Well, I can and I ought to be allowed to choose my own bride.’
‘You’re right, you should. So tell Father that. Refuse to marry Miss Harper.’
Arthur’s expression turned sullen. ‘I don’t hear you saying no to a woman very often.’
‘I don’t need to. I’m not the heir. No one wants to ensnare the feckless younger brother.’
Not that it stopped them wanting to do other things, he thought cynically... Cordelia Braithwaite for one had been throwing beckoning glances in his direction all evening, ever since her husband had abandoned her for the card room. Not to mention the pretty, and currently partnerless, redhead. Even if he had just promised to behave, some opportunities were too good to miss. As soon as he finished consoling his brother, he’d start taking advantage of them.
‘Only younger by ten minutes.’ Arthur sounded bitter. ‘Sometimes I wish we could just change places. Then you could tell Father for me.’
‘Wouldn’t work, I’m afraid. I’d never be able to look as responsible or intelligent as you. Ten minutes makes all the difference, apparently.’
‘Then maybe you’re right.’ Arthur’s dolorous tone shifted suddenly. ‘Maybe it is time I stood up to him.’
‘That’s the spirit.’
‘I just need to be blunt.’
‘Absolutely.’
‘I’ll tell him I have my own plans.’
‘Exactly.’
‘I’ll say... Wait!’ Arthur’s hand shot out and gripped his shoulder. ‘There she is.’
‘Who?’
‘Violet Harper!’
Lance turned casually towards the doorway, though it took him a few moments to actually locate the subject of their conversation. Standing between their two fathers, she was the tiniest, most unusual-looking woman he’d ever seen, nothing at all like he would have expected, an innocent daisy between two bristly thistles. Dressed all in white, she looked more like a fairy-tale creature than a woman, seeming to give off an almost translucent glow in the candlelight. Even her hair was pale, a shade of shimmering, silvery blonde that fell in a perfectly straight line to her waist. It gave her an oddly top-heavy appearance, though the top of her head barely skimmed the shoulders of their father, whose six-foot frame both he and Arthur had inherited. How would one kiss such a woman without getting backache, he wondered, not to mention other things? Not that he’d shirk such a challenge...
‘It could be worse.’ He nudged Arthur none too subtly in the ribs.
‘What, your behaviour?’
‘Very funny. I mean Father’s choice of bride. She looks like a kitten.’ He grinned. ‘I want to pat her on the head.’
‘You marry her, then.’
‘Shall we go and suggest it? I’d like to see Father’s face if we did. Harper’s, too. They’d both have apoplexies on the spot.’
‘Maybe we ought to suggest it, then.’
‘She’s pretty.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘Unusual. I like unusual.’
‘You would. Have you ever met a woman you didn’t like?’
Lance shrugged, unabashed. It was true, he wasn’t biased towards any one type of woman. He liked variety—the more of it the better—though there was something particularly intriguing about Miss Harper, something that piqued his interest more than he would have expected. He let his gaze roam over her face and figure appreciatively. Her tiny size and distinctive colouring made her appear strangely ethereal, as if she were in the room and yet apart from it somehow. He couldn’t think of another way to explain it, but the duality only increased her appeal.
The longer he looked, the more he noticed other contradictions about her. Pint-sized though she was, her hips and breasts were disproportionately wide and generous, quite distractingly so, in fact. Her facial features were large, too, her eyes in particular seeming to take up half of her face, their intense blueness striking even from a distance. And as for her lips—he found himself running his tongue along his own instinctively—surely they were the most sensuous-looking pair he’d ever laid eyes on. Plump and voluptuous, like a bow he wanted to pluck on.
He took a flute of champagne from a passing footman and gulped it down quickly, taken aback by the strength of his attraction to her. If it hadn’t been for the obligation of marriage, he might have felt jealous of his own brother.
‘I wonder what she thinks about marrying you.’ He dragged his gaze away finally.
‘She doesn’t know anything about it.’
‘What?’
Arthur turned his back pointedly towards the doorway. ‘The whole thing’s bizarre, but Father and Harper have already drawn up papers. According to their agreement, I’m only to marry her after Harper dies. He married late, so who knows how old he is now. We’re engaged, but she’s not to be told anything until after the funeral. Then we get married, I get his fortune and she gets a title.’
‘Doesn’t she get a say in the matter?’
‘Apparently neither of us does.’
‘What if Harper lives another twenty years? He looks like he’ll go on for ever.’
‘There’s probably a clause to cover that, too. No doubt Father expects me to produce an heir and I don’t suppose he’ll be willing to wait that long.’
‘Then maybe there’s a way out after all.’ Lance lifted an eyebrow as Harper let go of her arm, passing her across to their father as if at some kind of prearranged signal. ‘You just have to keep the old ghoul alive.’
‘It’s still morbid.’
‘What else do you expect from those two?’
Arthur shook his head contemptuously. ‘You know Father’s only throwing this ball to impress him. He just assumes I’ll go along with their scheme. He treats me like a dog sometimes.’
‘Then bite back.’ Lance found his gaze drawn inexorably back towards her. ‘Do you really think he’s kept her locked up her whole life? There is a kind of fairy-tale quality about her. Just look at that hair...’
‘It’s white.’
‘It’s silver.’
‘If she’s old enough to be engaged, then she ought to be wearing it up.’
‘Maybe he won’t let her. In any case, here they come. Prepare to be charming.’
‘I don’t want to be—’
Arthur fell silent as their father appeared at his shoulder, Miss Harper’s elbow grasped firmly in one hand.
‘Father.’ Lance smiled innocently as Arthur made a stiff bow. ‘Won’t you introduce us to your charming companion?’
‘I was just about to.’ Their father regarded him suspiciously for a moment. ‘Miss Harper, these are my sons, the Honourable Arthur Amberton and...’ there was a brief, but noticeable pause ‘...Captain Lancelot Amberton.’
‘The not-quite-so-Honourable.’
Lance flashed his most charming smile and reached for her hand, brushing his lips along the delicate line of her knuckles. Up close, her eyes were an iridescent shade of blue, he noticed, lighter in the middle and darker towards the edges, surrounded by a thick black line that served to make them look even bigger.
‘Charmed to meet you, Miss Harper.’
‘Oh...thank you.’ She dropped into a wavering curtsy, darting a quick glance across the room to where her father stood watching.
‘Miss Harper...’ his own father shot him a warning look ‘...is here to accompany Arthur into supper.’
‘I am?’ She looked up quickly, her voice slightly breathless-sounding, as if she were surprised to find herself the subject of so much attention.
‘Yes, my dear. Your father’s given his permission.’
‘He has?’ This time she sounded positively shocked.
‘I’m afraid that’s impossible, sir.’ Arthur spoke up at last. ‘I’ve already promised to escort Miss Webster into supper. My apologies, Miss Harper.’
‘Then you must un-promise Miss Webster.’ A look of surprise crossed their father’s features. ‘I’ve agreed that you’ll escort Miss Harper.’
‘Then perhaps you ought to have informed me of your wishes earlier, Father. Or at least asked. I’ve no wish to be ungallant.’
‘This is ungallant!’
‘Perhaps I might escort Miss Harper into supper?’ Lance interrupted smoothly. ‘Keep her in the family, so to speak?’
‘You can stay out of it!’ Their father’s face was starting to take on a familiar puce colour.
‘As you wish. I was only trying to help.’
‘We all know very well how you help, sir!’
Their father gave a sudden jolt, as if he’d just realised what he’d said and who was listening, though he seemed unable to think of a way to remedy the situation, his jaw quivering with a combination of frustrated rage and embarrassment.
‘In any case, my offer stands, Miss Harper.’ Lance broke the ensuing awkward silence, regarding his father with amusement. ‘Though I might not be able to offer such scintillating conversation as my brother here. As you can tell, you’d be in danger of him talking your ear off.’
‘Arthur.’ Their father’s tone was threatening. ‘A word.’
Lance gave his brother a supportive look as the two men stepped to one side, leaving him alone with his distinctly embarrassed-looking companion. At least her cheeks had some colour now, he thought sardonically, having turned a vibrant shade of luminous pink, as if she were even more mortified by their situation than his father.
‘I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.’ Her voice was so quiet he found himself leaning forward to catch it.
‘And you haven’t.’ He took a step to one side, attempting to block her view of his father and brother arguing. ‘We aren’t happy in our family unless we’re butting heads.’
‘Your brother doesn’t look very happy.’ Her tiny brow wrinkled as she peered around him. ‘He looks very unhappy.’
Lance twisted his head with a frown. That was true. As much as he hated to admit it, Arthur did look unhappy. His shoulders were slumped forward as if he were wearing some kind of heavy garment that he couldn’t shrug off or put down. Not that there was anything that he could do about that—nothing except tell him to stand up to their father and he did that often enough—but Miss Harper was more observant than he’d expected. If he wasn’t careful, she’d force him to be serious.
‘If he’s made a promise to Miss Webster, then he ought to take her in to supper.’ She looked back at him, wide-eyed. ‘I don’t understand why your father’s being so insistent.’
He shrugged in what he hoped was a convincingly offhand manner. ‘Our fathers are old friends. I suppose they want the two of you to get to know each other.’
‘But not you?’
‘No.’ He couldn’t repress a smile. ‘I’m afraid my reputation precedes me.’
‘Reputation for what?’
He opened his mouth and then closed it again, fighting the impulse to laugh. He wasn’t often rendered speechless, but in this case he had no idea how to answer. Was she really so innocent that she didn’t know what he meant? He was tempted to tell her, even more so to show her, but he could already sense her father’s disapproving stare from the other side of the ballroom. It wouldn’t be long before the old man made his way round to interrupt them and he felt reluctant to let her go quite so soon.
‘Shall we have a dance before supper?’ He extended one arm with a flourish.
