JORDAN Nicole (2 page)

Roslyn chuckled before her expression turned a little troubled. “It is for a good cause, Drew. Lily told me that some of Fanny’s friends are having financial difficulties. And selling this book could help them solve their problems.”

“That surprises me. I thought Fanny was highly successful in her trade.”

“She is. But she isn’t wealthy enough to pay their enormous debts on her own.”

Drew glanced down at the manuscript. “I am highly curious to know what Fanny put in her book about seducing a prospective husband.”

He thumbed through the pages, reading a passage here and there. “I see that she included a number of my tactics in addition to her own.” He smiled wickedly at one particular passage. “Hmm, so that is what you were attempting at Fanny’s house when you drove me mad with your tormenting?”

“I will never tell,” Roslyn retorted saucily. “We females must have our secrets, remember?”

“You can have all the secrets you want, as long as you use them solely on me.”

His gaze skimmed further down the page. “Will this book be published under Fanny’s name?”

“No, it will be authored by an anonymous lady.”

“I think that wise,” Drew said dryly, “since I rather doubt that gently nurtured females of the ton would willingly take advice from a renowned highflyer, even if itwould help them catch a husband. Ah, here is one we never discussed. ‘Never nag or scold, especially when he deserves it. He will be enchanted by your forbearance, and his guilt will act in your favor.’ You should heed that particular advice, my sweet.”

“Ishould heed it?” Roslyn’s blue eyes took on a gleam of laughter. “Have I ever nagged or scolded you, my dearest duke?”

“Occasionally…and I found the experience devastating. But scolding or not, you always enchant me.”

It was true, Drew thought, gazing down at her upturned face. Roslyn had the kind of enchanting beauty that made him ache just to see it, but it was her inner beauty that had ensnared his heart.

And the loving look in her eyes told him clearly that he had ensnared hers. Caught by that look, Drew reached up to touch her, his fingers wandering with delicacy over her face, her brows, her eyelids.

Roslyn sighed again, then inhaled breathlessly as he cradled her head in his hands and covered her mouth in a long, sublime, heart-stirring kiss.

She could scarcely credit her incredible good fortune, could scarcely credit the feelings she shared with Drew at merely kissing: this passionate need for each other, this hammering of the senses, this exhilarating, endless tenderness. This love. They were lovers, friends…and soon husband and wife.

Emotion, pure and powerful, flooded through her whole being. She felt hope and immeasurable joy. And she knew without a doubt that Drew felt similarly when he finally broke off kissing her.

Her dazed, tender look turned wondering as she brought his hand to her cheek and whispered, “I feel an almost fearful happiness, Drew. One I never even dared to dream of. Do you think it will last?”

“I know damned well it will last—if you promise to love and cherish me as I will always do you.”

“Of course I promise.”

“Good.” He grinned. “Now that I have gone to all this trouble to train you properly, I wouldn’t care to have to break in a new candidate for my mistress…ormy duchess.”

Roslyn’s musical laugh rang out in the hush of the library before Drew silenced her for a very long time by capturing her lips again with his own.

Read on for an exciting taste of

To Seduce a Bride

by

Nicole Jordan

Chiswick, England June 1817

“I cannot understand why he flusters me so,” Lilian Loring mumbled unevenly to the gray cat. “No man has ever unsettled me that way.”

A soft purr was the only reply Lily received to her complaint.

“It is not merely because he is handsome, either. I am not ord’narily attracted to handsome noblemen.” If anything she was highly wary of them. “And I care nothing for his rank and consequence.”

Giving a woozy sigh, Lily stretched out in the straw as she stroked the cat’s fur. She was speaking of Heath Griffin, Marquess of Claybourne, yet she was hard-pressed to explain the deplorable effect he had on her, particularly since she had just met him for the first time this morning at her sister’s wedding.

“The trouble is, he is too sharm…charming.”And virile. And vital. And powerful.

Whatever his attributes, Lord Claybourne made her absurdly breathless and agitated.

“Devil take ’im….”

Lily bit her lip and fell silent upon registering how slurred her words sounded. No doubt the result of drinking three full glasses of champagne at the wedding—which was at least two glasses too many. But the events of the evening had been dismaying enough to drive her to imbibe.

She wasn’tcompletely foxed at the moment, yet it had probably been a mistake to attempt climbing up to the stable loft wearing a ball gown—an exquisite confection of pale-rose silk—and dancing slippers. Weaving her way up the ladder in such narrow skirts while carrying a napkin full of dinner tidbits had challenged her usual athleticism. But she had wanted to bring supper for Boots before she left the wedding celebrations.

Boots, the Danvers Hall stable cat, had recently given birth to a litter of kittens. Currently the family of felines was contentedly curled up in the box Lily had arranged in the loft to protect the mother cat and her new offspring from the home-farm dogs. Lily had left her lantern hanging on a peg below so as not to frighten the youngsters, and the muted golden glow contributed to the tranquility of the loft, as did the warmth of the night, since it was nearly summer.

The three kittens were little balls of fluff, their eyes barely open, but they were beginning to show their own unique personalities—much like the three Loring sisters, Lily thought. If she was honest with herself she would admit that she’d sought refuge in the stable loft as much to escape Lord Claybourne as to feed the estate cat and indulge in a bout of self-pity.

While Boots was nibbling delicately on breast of roast pheasant, Lily carefully reached inside the box and picked up one of the adorable kittens.

“Do you re’lize how precious you are?” she murmured, pressing her nose into its soft ebony fur. The black kitten was the rambunctious one, like Lily herself, and it swatted at her nose playfully.

Lily gave a low laugh, which helped staunch the ache in her throat at the poignant memories she was trying to hold at bay.

It was extremely hard for Lily to bear, losing her sister Arabella to marriage, but the evening had been made even more difficult by the meddlesome matchmaking efforts of their kindly patron, Winifred, Lady Freemantle. Four years ago, when the Loring sisters had been penniless and in desperate need of earning their own livings, Winifred had supplied the funds to start their Academy for Young Ladies for the daughters of the wealthy merchant class. Yet all during the ball, Winifred had kept pushing Lily in the path of Marcus’s close friend, the Marquess of Claybourne.

Eventually, much to her chagrin and dismay, Winifred cornered her and practicallyforced his lordship to dance with her.

As soon as the waltz was over, Lily had extricated herself from his unnerving company.

It was blessedly quiet here, set away from the rest of the yard.

Her head was still swimming from the overindulgence of wine, along with her potent memories of Lord Claybourne. The feel of him as they’d waltzed—sinewy and powerful, all lithe grace—had uncustomarily flustered her.

“But I trust I will never see him again after t’night,” Lily muttered as she returned the black kitten to the box. “Or at least that I will never again be the victim of Winifred’s humiliating mash…matchmaking schemes.”

It was then that Lily heard a faint noise from below, like a throat being cleared.

Wondering who had entered the stable, she shifted her position to look over the loft’s edge. Her heart skipped a violent beat when she spied the broad-shouldered Marquess of Claybourne leaning against a post, his arms folded, his head cocked to one side.

When her head suddenly started spinning dizzily, Lily drew back in haste.Oh, dear heaven . Had he overheard her lament that he was too charming? What other incriminating observations had she made about him?

Holding a hand to her throbbing temple, Lily slowly peered over the side again. “M-My lord, what are you doing here?”

“I saw you leave the ball and wondered why you would visit the stables.”

“You followed me?” Lily asked blankly.

Claybourne gave a bland nod. “Guilty as charged.”

Her eyes narrowed. “So you were shamelessly eavesdropping?”

“I was curious. Do you always talk to yourself, Miss Loring?”

“Sometimes. But in this case I am speaking to the cat…. Actuallycats . Boots the stable cat recently had kittens.”

“Would you care to explain what you are doing up there in the loft?”

“If you mush…mustknow…I am feeding her.”

“You came here to feed the stable cat?” His tone held surprise and a hint of disbelief.

“Should I have let her starve?” Lily asked rhetorically. “Boots is an excellent mouser, but at the moment she has more important tasks to occupy her, namely taking care of her kittens.”

His handsome mouth quirked. “Do you mean to remain there with the cats?”

“No. I will come down as soon as my head clears. I seem…to have drunk a bit too much champagne.” To her chagrin, she was too dizzy just now to climb safely down the ladder to escape Lord Claybourne’s unwanted presence.

“Then you won’t mind if I join you,” he said, moving across the isle to put a foot on the lowest wooden rung.

Yes, she minded! Lily sat up abruptly, wondering how she could prevent him from imposing his company upon her. “You cannot climb up here, my lord!” she exclaimed, yet her protest obviously had no effect, since his head soon appeared above the edge of the loft.

“I believe I can. I plan to keep you company.”

With his torso in view, he paused to survey her with interest.

“You will get your coat dusty,” Lily said lamely, eyeing his elegantly tailored evening coat of burgundy superfine—Weston, no doubt—that fitted those magnificent shoulders to perfection.

“My coat will survive.” His gaze raked over her own attire. “What about you? You are wearing a ball gown.”

“That is different. I don’t care about clothing.”

When his eyebrow shot up, Lily realized that her retort could have two meanings. “I d-don’t mean that I like to gonaked. …” she stammered, feeling scalding heat flood her cheeks. “I only meant that I don’t care aboutfancy clothing …ball gowns and such.”

“How novel.” His tone turned wry as he climbed the last few rungs and settled a hip on the loft’s edge. “It strains the imagination. You must be the first female I’ve ever met who isn’t interested in fancy gowns.”

“But you see, I am not normal, my lord. I am veryabnormal .”

“Is that so?” he replied, easing himself closer to sit beside her.

Even in the dim light, she could see that his hazel eyes were dancing. He was laughing at her!

Stiffening her spine, Lily opened her mouth to remonstrate, but he spoke first. “What is so abnormal about you, angel? You look exceedingly normal to me.”

When his gaze drifted downward again over her body, Lily pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks and willed herself to calm down—which was deplorably difficult considering the fluttery, flustered sensations that were racing through her at his lordship’s close proximity.

Stretching up to her full sitting height, she tried to appear regal and made her tone dampening as she replied. “Imeant that I am not usual for afemale .”

“I have little doubt about that.”

She shot him an exasperated look. “The thing is, I should have been born male. I would have been much happier.”

“Oh, and are you so unhappy now?”

In her slightly inebriated state, her thoughts were more sluggish than usual, and she had to consider his question for a moment. “Well…no. I like my life quite well. But women have little of the freedom that men enjoy.”

“What freedom would you like to enjoy, love?”

Lily bit her lower lip, abashed at how her tongue was running away from her. Yet she couldn’t seem to help herself; the champagne had loosened her tongue deplorably. “Never mind. Don’t listen to me, my lord. I don’t hold my liquor at all well.”

“So it would seem. What made you drink so much then?”

“I was drowning my sorrows, if you insist on knowing.”

“What sorrows?”

“At losing my sister to matrimony. I was indulging in a bout of melancholy. But it was supposed to beprivate .” When he didn’t respond, Lily added pointedly, “That is a veiled hint for you to leave, my lord.”

Instead of retreating down the loft ladder, he smiled and leaned back, casually resting his weight on his palms and crossing his long, satin-clad legs in front of him, as if settling in for a long stay.

Lily exhaled in a huff. “I don’t think you comprehend the danger you are in, Lord Claybourne. It is a grave mistake for you to be alone with me. If Winifred knew, she would be ecstatic.”

“Winifred?”

“Lady Freemantle. She is the main reason I left the ball early—to escape her machinations. She is trying to match me with you. You must have noticed.”

Her allegation didn’t seem to alarm him as it should. “Perhaps, but her machinations are no worse than usual. I’m well accustomed to eager mamas throwing their daughters at my head.”

Lily grimaced in disgruntlement. “Perhapsyou can dismiss her scheming, but I cannot. It is mortifying to the extreme. I am not a prize heifer to be exhibited before an eligible gentleman and judged for my defects and qualifications.”

His eyes were dancing again. “I should think not.”

At his blithe reply, exasperation welled up in Lily full force. “Do you notunderstand ? Winifred wants me to set my cap at you.”

“But you don’t intend to.”

“Certainly not! I have no interest in marriage.”

“That is quite a unique perspective for a young lady. Most women have made it their mission in life to find a husband.”

“True. But you needn’t worry about me hounding you, Lord Claybourne. Oh, I know you are a prime catch. You are disgustingly rich, you have a vaunted title, you aren’t so shabby in appearance, and you are said to be irresistibly charming.”