The Wedding Game

There was something in the unwavering and intelligent gaze she returned that made him wonder if he might be better off if Amelia Summoner could vote. Perhaps, if her quick wits were acknowledged and put to use, she would not be using them to bedevil the men in her life.

‘Let us call a truce, then,’ he said. ‘I acknowledge that my behaviour has been abominable, demanding that you speak to me when you clearly did not want to. I should not have done so.’

At this, she turned to look at him and he saw the faintest shift in the fleck of her eye, as if deep waters had been stirred to give a glimpse of what rested beneath. ‘And I had no right to mock your ambitions. They are noble ones, though I suspect they are doomed to failure.’ Then the vulnerability was gone and she was just as hard and brittle as she always was. ‘But that does not mean I will allow you access to my sister. You can want only two things in gaining an introduction to her.’

‘Really?’ he said, his apology forgotten and sarcasm coming to the fore again. ‘Enlighten me.’

‘You either seek a dishonourable liaison...’

‘Dishonourable?’ He blew his breath out in a great puff that would have been a curse if he had not been in the company of a lady. The terrier reappeared and gave a low growl to remind him of his manners. ‘I can assure you I would never intend such a thing.’

‘Then you are thinking of marriage,’ Miss Amelia said, tipping her head to the side as she looked at him, as if observing some exotic creature. ‘Since that is not to be, it hardly seems necessary for you to seek her out for a deeper acquaintance.’

‘I have barely spoken to her yet. How, exactly, would you know that there is no hope?’ he asked. Then he studied her just as closely as she did him. ‘Are the lady’s affections fixed upon another?’

‘To the best of my knowledge, they are not,’ she said. ‘But the lack of a rival does not automatically make you a good candidate for husband.’

‘Nor should it exclude me,’ he replied, doing his best to be perfectly reasonable. ‘I ask again, have I done something to make you set against a possible match?’

Again, he saw the movement in the depths. And again, it resulted in nothing. ‘I know her. And I know you.’

‘You hardly know me at all,’ he reminded her. ‘We have just met.’

‘I know you well enough to see that you will not suit,’ she countered.

He swallowed his denial. Could she really see past the façade so easily and know that he was unworthy?

‘I know that you are exactly like all the other gentlemen of the ton,’ she finished.

So it was nothing about him that she specifically disliked. ‘Then you have a problem with males in general,’ he said.

‘Not at all.’ She gave a slow, cat-like blink of her mismatched eyes. ‘I merely think that you are ordinary. My sister will require the extraordinary.’

The last word touched him like a finger drawn down his spine. His mind argued that she was right. There was nothing the least bit exceptional about him. If she learned the truth, she would think him common as muck and far beneath her notice. But then, he remembered just how far a man could rise with diligence and the help of a beautiful woman. He leaned in to her, offering his most seductive smile. ‘Then I shall simply have to be extraordinary for you.’

For Arabella.

That was what he had meant to say. He was supposed to be winning the princess, not flirting with the gatekeeper. But he had looked into those eyes again and had lost his way.

She showed no sign of noticing his mistake. Or had her cheeks gone pink? It was not much of a blush, just the barest hint of colour to imply that she might wish him to be as wonderful as he claimed.

In turn, he felt a growing need to impress her, to see the glow kindle into warm approval. Would her eyes soften when she smiled, or would they sparkle? And what would they do if he kissed her?

He blinked. It did not matter. His words had been a simple mistake and such thoughts were an even bigger one. They had not been discussing her at all. And now her dog was tugging on his pants again, as if to remind him that he should not, even for an instant, forget the prize he had fixed his sights on from the first.

She shook her head, as if she, too, needed to remember the object of the conversation. ‘If you must try to be extraordinary, Mr Lovell, then you have failed already. You either are, or you aren’t.’

He gave another shake of his leg, trying to dislodge the animal, and glared down at her. ‘So you think a man who is not born as pure as Galahad is not worthy to marry into your family.’

‘That is not what I meant and you know it.’

Then she had heard the lie everyone believed about his parentage, judged him by it and found him wanting. If illegitimacy shocked her, how distasteful would she find the truth? ‘Is your view of the world really so narrow that you cannot acknowledge a man might rise above his birth and endeavour to improve his character when he sees deficiency in it?’

She glanced away from him, down the street towards the confectioner’s shop where her sister must have gone. ‘My view is not the least bit narrow. But I know for a fact that there are some obstacles that cannot be overcome by wanting, Mr Lovell. You are not the right man for my sister and that is that.’

He had been foolish enough to speak of his ambitions and she’d seemed to agree. But apparently he was still not good enough. Not for her or her precious sister. He gave her a pitying smile. ‘While it is kind of you to want the best for her, perhaps you should let Miss Arabella choose her own husband and tend to your own future. If she is just down the street, there is no reason I cannot meet with her now and see what she thinks of me.’

‘Don’t you dare.’ Amelia glared back at him, like a five-foot three-inch pillar of fire. ‘Your fine and idealistic talk is nothing more than that, Mr Lovell. Nothing but words. And I will not have you making sheep’s eyes at Arabella, only to abandon her when your conquest has been successful. Leave her alone or I shall set the dog upon you.’

The animal in question was still tugging at him, as if to emphasise his mistress’s words. Ben gave a yank and heard cloth rip as his pants leg tore. When he looked down, her dog was holding a piece of his best pantaloons between its crooked teeth, tail wagging furiously as if he expected a reward.

For a moment, his temper got the better of him and he grabbed the scrap of cloth from its mouth, glaring at the girl who held the leash. ‘Miss Summoner, if you cannot control this miserable cur, then you should not bring him out in public to trouble the rest of us.’

Miss Amelia looked down at the dog with a triumphant smile. ‘Good dog, Mellie. You see him for what he is, don’t you? A man who does not care one bit for our Belle. If he did, he would know that you are not a miserable cur. You are Belle’s best friend in the world.’

Then she looked back at him, her smile disappearing. ‘Belle has very few requirements of the men who court her, Mr Lovell. She has requested someone who likes both dancing and dogs. When you were at Almack’s, a place where there is little else to do but stand up for a set, you did nothing but stand at the side of the room and speculate on others.’

‘You cannot mean to judge me on a single evening,’ he countered.

She gave no quarter. ‘It is plain from your opinion of Mellie that you have failed in the second requirement as well.’

‘I like dogs,’ he argued. Perhaps not this one. But it was hardly the standard bearer of its kind. ‘I like them as well as any man.’

‘But they do not like you,’ she said. ‘And neither do I.’ She gave a sharp tug on the leash and abandoned him to find her sister.

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