The Husband List -2 (20 page)

“I do hope your aim is better with rocks than bonnets,” she muttered and searched the ground. It wasn’t an especially rocky area, but within a minute or so she’d found three good-sized stones and held them out.

He selected one, took aim, and let it fly. The rock sailed past the hat. She bit back a laugh.

He glanced at her. “I suppose you can do better?”

“Perhaps.” She shrugged, handed him one stone, and kept the second.

“After you, my lady.” He swept a sarcastic bow.

She took careful aim and threw as hard as she could. The rock bounced off the top of the temple.

Richard smirked. “Good try.”

She smirked back. “You will probably need a few more stones.”

He laughed and threw the last rock. It hit the hat squarely. The bonnet rumbled out of the tree, missed the finial by a hairsbreadth, and slid down the dome to fall to the grass at the base of the temple. Richard stepped to it and plucked it from the ground. He turned and presented it to her with a flourish. “Your crown, Princess Gillian.”

She accepted the hat and bobbed a curtsey. “I am in your eternal debt, noble knight.”

“Eternal?” His tone was light, belying the serious look in his eyes. “That’s a very long time.”

Her heart caught in her throat, and she nodded. “It is, isn’t it?”

For a long moment neither spoke. Gillian wasn’t sure what to say. She wanted to tell him she thought—she was fairly certain—she loved him. Wanted to hear him say it in return. But the words wouldn’t come. He smiled slowly and picked up his jacket. She exhaled a breath she didn’t know she’d held.

“We should probably get back.” He offered his hand, and she didn’t hesitate to take it. Warmth flowed through her. Perhaps the time wasn’t right. Not yet.

They walked in companionable silence to the horses, and he helped her mount, then swung up into his own saddle. He turned and stared back at the temple for a long moment.

“It really is special, isn’t it?” she said softly.

“Indeed it is.” A pensive note colored his voice as if he was thinking of something else altogether. “It lacks only one thing.”

“What would that be?”

He grinned. “A hat.”

Richard took careful aim, drew back the cue, and tapped the red ball firmly. It rolled across the table, deflected off the right side, and gently smacked a white ball, propelling it into a side pocket.

“I see you haven’t lost your touch,” Thomas said wryly.

“It’s all in the wrist, old man.” Richard straightened and grinned. “Another game?”

“Why not?” Thomas gathered the balls, arranged them on the green cloth surface, then took his position at the end of the table. “Grandmother’s party doesn’t begin for another hour yet.” He positioned a ball, struck it firmly with the cue, and watched it rebound from the end cushion.

There were far worse ways to pass the time, and the billiards room at Effington Hall was as opulent as the rest of the grand house. Richard hadn’t fully appreciated the difference between Gillian’s family background and his own until he’d come face to face with it. While Shelbrooke Manor and Effington Hall were comparable in design, the similarities ended there. Effington Hall was twice the size of the manor, beautifully furnished, and well maintained with a staff of servants to see to its occupants’ every need. Shelbrooke Manor was very much a poor relation in comparison.

It chafed a bit, knowing he could not provide this kind of luxury for Gillian without the inheritance that was by rights hers alone. He could take some comfort in knowing she could not acquire it without him—still, the knowledge nagged at him.

“Now then, Richard.” Thomas cleared his throat. Regardless of his comments yesterday, Richard had the distinct impression his friend had no idea where to begin this query into Richard’s intentions toward his sister.

“Spit it out, Thomas.”

“Very well. What precisely is going on between you and Gillian?”

Richard strolled around the table to Thomas’s side, studying the position of his opponent’s ball. He chose a shot. “Precisely?”

“Yes,” Thomas huffed. “Precisely.”

“Well.” Richard leaned over the table and positioned his cue. “I rather expect I’ll marry her.” He hit the ball. It rebounded from the far end and rolled back to beat Thomas’s attempt by a good two inches. “Is that precisely enough for you?”

“Nice shot.” Thomas stared at the table.

Richard raised a brow.

“Oh, about Gillian, you mean.” Thomas shrugged. “Yes, I suppose that answers my question, but I must say I’m rather confused. As far as I knew, other than that salon she invited you to, I was under the impression you were scarcely so much as acquainted.”

“At that point we were. Now, however, we know each other much better.” Much, much better. He stifled a smile. “You don’t seem terribly surprised, or concerned by my announcement.”

“I’m not. For Gillian to invite you here in the first place says a great deal about the serious nature of your relationship, though most of us expect that she’ll never remarry at all.”

“And never someone like me.”

“Frankly, when it comes to Gillian’s preferences in gentlemen, we had no expectations whatsoever. As far as the family knows, Charles is the only man she’s ever been involved with. Her name hasn’t been linked with anyone since his death. You know as well as I, it’s impossible to keep any kind of affair secret from the
ton
. But there’s never been a hint of gossip or rumor about her and any man until recently.”

“Until me.” Richard considered his next shot.

“As for any concern on my part,” Thomas grinned, “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have as a brother.” He studied Richard thoughtfully. “However, I am still a bit perplexed about one aspect of all this.”

“Yes?” Richard said absently, positioning his cue.

“I can understand why Gillian might wish to marry you, but, well, I don’t understand why you would wish to marry her.”

Richard’s cue slipped and his ball veered away from its intended target. “Oh?”

Thomas grinned, leaned his cue against the table, and stepped to a nearby sideboard bearing a decanter of brandy and several glasses. He poured two snifters and offered one to Richard. “Here. You’ll find this much more palatable than the swill you’re used to drinking.”

Richard accepted the fine crystal glass and pulled a long, bracing swallow. “Nectar of the gods.”

“There’s nothing better than good brandy.” Thomas took an appreciative sip. “When you married, in spite of your reluctance to do so, I’d always assumed it would be to alleviate your financial troubles. I know how frustrated you’ve been by the speed at which you’ve been able to pay off your father’s debts.”

“Or rather the lack of speed,” Richard muttered.

“With your title and your now respectable reputation, you’ve had no end of opportunities to select a bride with excellent prospects or a substantial dowry. So,” he paused, “why have you settled on Gillian?”

Richard laughed. “Have you so little faith in your sister’s charms?”

“Of course not.” Thomas had the good grace to look abashed. “It’s simply that this liaison was not anything I would have foreseen.” He swirled the brandy in his glass. “Now, answer the question: why Gillian?”

“It’s really quite simple, Thomas.” Richard kept his tone casual. “She asked me.”

“What?” Thomas’s brow furrowed with confusion. “She asked you? Why on earth would she do that?”

“I see you have no faith in my charms either.”

“Faith has nothing to do with it.” Suspicion sounded in Thomas’s voice. “What is going on here, Richard?”

“Precisely?” he said with a smile.

“Precisely.” Thomas’s eyes narrowed.

Richard stared at the brandy in his glass and considered his options. Eventually, Gillian’s entire family would learn of the inheritance. His own financial standing was known well enough that no one would imagine that their newfound wealth after their marriage was his doing, and the truth would come out. Thomas already knew all his secrets and had kept them well. Gillian’s brother was perhaps the only person in the world Richard truly trusted.

“Will you give me your word you will not repeat this?”

Thomas’s brows pulled together, and his tone was cautious. “Certainly.”

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?”