A Warriner To Seduce Her

‘Perhaps not—but her uncle is keen to make a match. I’ve heard he fetched her to town with the express intention of presenting her to the Earl. Redditch is recently out of mourning and has been quite vocal about his desire to marry again. His first marriage was barren, so it stands to reason he wants a wife young enough to give him heirs and he is as rich a Croesus. Despite his stinky disposition, he’s still quite a catch and one Rowley seems intent on catching. Miss Blunt does make attractive bait.’ Flint and Leatham shared a knowing, wholly masculine look which made Jake yearn to punch the pair of them for the heinous crime of having perceptive eyes.

‘Miss Blunt is a woman with her own mind and well past the age of majority. I wish her uncle all the luck in the world trying to bring her around to his way of thinking.’

Lord Fennimore frowned. ‘This is a dangerous and unforeseen complication.’

‘Hardly.’ Jake made a show of adjusting his cuffs. ‘I’m easier on both the eyes and the nose, and much more appealing than the Earl of Redditch.’

‘Not all women’s heads can be turned by a handsome face, Warriner. In case it has escaped your notice, most of the ton marries for status and wealth. As an earl he has the status—and he certainly has the wealth. The girl has nothing aside from her beauty to recommend her and now that we know she has been on the shelf gathering dust you will need to act fast. An earl on the hook usurps a rake. Especially if Miss Blunt is as clever as you say.’

The words unsettled him far more than Jake was prepared to admit. ‘She’s too clever to settle for an old letch like Redditch.’ Surely? Although she had told him she also had a pragmatic attitude towards men. A dyed-in-the-wool pragmatist might well see the benefits of marrying a rich old earl. She would outlive him, for a start, and enjoy the rest of her life as a very rich woman. Completely independent and free to do as she pleased. Maybe speed was of the essence after all.

Chapter Four

Bored, in Uncle Crispin’s dining room before the Renshaw ball

This was the second night in a row that the Earl of Redditch had been invited to dine and the second Fliss had had the misfortune of being seated opposite him. Just as he had during yesterday’s dinner, the Earl had slurped his soup, chewed with his mouth open and used his hand to cover said mouth only after one of his many belches had escaped. Meanwhile, her uncle fawned over the fellow as if he were visiting royalty, while Daphne and Cressida quaffed the wine like it was going out of fashion.

For the sake of family harmony and out of ingrained politeness, Fliss had put on a brave face and made a concerted effort to engage with the dull conversation about canals right up until her uncle had begun to extoll her virtues to the fusty old Earl in the same way one would list the attributes of a fine horse up for sale at Tattersall’s. ‘As you can see, my niece is a sensible girl. Well read and not prone to the silly behaviour many of the younger debutantes display. The extra few years of maturity set her apart from the rest.’

Why on earth was he giving her indirect compliments when he could barely tolerate to be in her presence most of the time? Unless he was attempting to project an aura of the doting uncle? Fliss pasted on a smile and tried to think of a suitable response. She was spared the effort by the Earl.

‘I approve of sensible gals.’ He said this with a spray of pastry crumbs from the apple tart he was in the process of demolishing. ‘Can’t be doing with chits who have no common sense.’

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