The Pursuit Of Marriage (3 page)

“Cassandra,” Reggie murmured, liking the way the name sounded on his tongue. The way it rolled off his lips. Cassandra.

“Oh no, you don’t.” Marcus shook his head firmly. “Not again.”

“Not again, what?” Reggie directed his question toward his friend, but his gaze stayed firmly fixed on Miss Effington. Cassandra. She moved through the crowd in an effortless manner, at ease and full of grace.

Marcus groaned. “I thought you had put this business of losing your heart at the drop of a hat behind you. I distinctly remember you vowing to be more restrained with your emotions.”

“Yes, of course,” Reggie murmured. If Miss Effington turned in his direction…“I wonder what color her eyes are?”

“It doesn’t matter. Reggie.” Marcus leaned closer and lowered his voice. “That promise was part and parcel of a—what did you call it?”

“A concerted effort to control the vagaries of my life.” Blue probably. With her fair hair, blue would be nearly perfect.

“Which included avoiding damsels in distress—”

“She does not look at all distressed.” Reggie was exceedingly fond of blue-eyed blondes. “Indeed, she looks quite composed.”

“She looks like she is doing an excellent job of completely ignoring you.”

“Surely nothing more than a ruse—”

“Reggie.” Marcus’s voice had the unrelentingly firm tone of a parent. “It was my understanding that the ridiculous scheme that you and I and various other assorted companions have spent the past half year nurturing was for the express purpose of saving you from yourself. I thought you had decided if your reputation was”—he cleared his throat—“enhanced, and you were made to appear somewhat, to use your words, dark and dangerous”—Marcus rolled his gaze skyward—“ladies would fall at your feet rather than the other way around.”

“Come now, Marcus.” Reggie dragged his gaze away from Miss Effington and grinned at his friend.

“You must admit you’ve derived a great deal of enjoyment from inventing rumors of my scandalous adventures. My exorbitant wagers—”

“Pity they were mostly with me,” Marcus muttered. “And nowhere near exorbitant.”

“My now legendary exploits with women—”

Marcus snorted.

“And the duels. Completely your idea, I believe.”

“They were a nice touch.” Marcus nodded smugly. “Quite brilliant really. Nothing like a duel to give a man an air of illicit allure.”

“Indeed they do, although I daresay I’ve contributed to the cause as well.” Reggie grinned.

“In the arrogance of your manner and the swagger of your step perhaps.” Marcus considered him curiously. “In truth, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Reggie shrugged modestly. “One does what one can.”

“Pity this campaign of yours hasn’t seemed to have borne much fruit in terms of hordes of women falling at your feet.”

“You’ve noticed that, have you?” Reggie shook his head in mock despair. “Still, the season has barely begun, and it’s far too soon to give up hope. One would think the occasional public triumph, like today’s, will help.”

“Speaking of which…” Marcus’s gaze slipped past him, and Reggie turned. Christian Effington strode toward them. “Excellent showing, my lord.” Effington nodded a bow and grinned. “Damned fine job, even if it was at my expense.”

“My apologies,” Reggie said with a grin of his own and a complete lack of sincerity. Effington laughed. “Not at all. I must say it has been some time since I have been bested by someone who was not a relation. My older brothers have made it their purpose in life to keep me humble by defeating me in varied and assorted endeavors on a regular basis.”

“And does it work?” Marcus raised a curious brow.

“To keep me humble?” Effington grinned. “Not in the least.”

Effington’s laugh was infectious. Reggie wondered if his sister’s was as engaging.

“This is dashed awkward, my lord, but I find myself in the difficult position of having to beg a favor.”

Effington glanced at Marcus, who murmured a polite excuse and discreetly stepped away. Effington lowered his voice in a confidential manner. “I seemed to have misjudged the current state of my finances, and as such I’m not…that is I’m unable…what I mean to say is I can’t—”

“A bit short of funds, Effington?” Reggie said casually.

“Yes, that’s it exactly.” Effington blew a sigh of relief. “Damned hard to admit aloud, though. I don’t know how I got myself into this mess, but it seems I don’t have the money on hand at the moment to make good on our wager. If you could see your way clear—”

“To take your note?” Reggie shrugged graciously. “I don’t see why not. The wager was a paltry hundred and fifty pounds, after all.” Reggie didn’t so much as twinge at the amount, as if the making of such immense wagers was not at all unusual for him. As if this wasn’t the first time he had played any game for stakes so high.

“Yes, well, what seemed paltry a few days ago seems rather more significant today.” A rueful smile curved Effington’s mouth. “However, I am confident I can pay you within a month at the most, possibly even a fortnight. I do appreciate your understanding about this.”

“Think nothing of it, Effington.”

“If there’s ever anything I can do for you…”

Reggie hesitated, but the opportunity was too good to let slip by. “You can introduce me to your sister.”

“Cassandra? You want to meet Cassandra? How very interesting.” Effington studied him carefully.

“Why?”

“Why?” Reggie started. “I’m not certain I can answer that.” I want to know the color of her eyes. “She’s lovely, of course.”

“Of course. And I suppose that suffices as a sufficient reason. I know I have sought the acquaintance of any number of ladies on the basis of a fetching appearance. Still, this is not another lady but my sister.”

Effington narrowed his eyes. “Are your intentions honorable?”

“Frankly, Effington, I don’t know that I have any intentions at all. I saw your sister in the crowd and I wish to meet her. There’s nothing more to it than that.” Reggie drew his brows together in annoyance.

“At this particular moment, my intentions extend no further than an introduction.” Reggie ignored a twinge of conscience, although it wasn’t exactly a lie. He really had no idea what his intentions were. Said intentions very much depended on the lady herself.

“My apologies, my lord.” Effington blew a long breath. “Do you have sisters?”

Reggie nodded. “One.”

“Is she out in society yet?”

“No. She’s a bit young.”

“Younger than you, eh?” Effington nodded sagely. “Do consider this a warning, then; there is nothing more trying than watching a younger sister navigate the treacherous waters of the world. It is a dangerous place filled with men who are, well,” he grinned, “very much like myself.

“Still,” Effington’s assessing gaze raked over Reggie, “you seem a decent enough sort. A bit of a reputation, but nothing really dire.”

“I shall have to do better,” Reggie murmured.

“Better?” Effington drew his brows together in confusion, then his expression cleared. “Ah yes, better. I see. Reform and all that. Excellent idea. Especially in regards to Cassandra. I never suspected it of her, but of late I have discovered she’s a bit stuffy regarding her preferences in men.”

“You do realize I am seeking nothing more than an introduction.” Reggie’s voice was cautious.

“Yes, of course. Again, my apologies.” Effington grimaced. “Habit, I suspect. You see, my brothers and I have always thought Cassandra was the sister most in need of keeping a close watch on. She has an air about her that seems to give the impression that she is given to scandal. Probably because she is rather annoyingly independent and prone to speak her mind, and act as well without due consideration to the consequences. In truth, her recent activities could even be termed somewhat eccentric.”

“Try not to make her sound too appealing,” Reggie said under his breath. Effington winced. “I seem to be making rather a mess of this, don’t I?”

“Rather.”

“Apparently my sister isn’t the only one who speaks without thinking. Do try to ignore what I said.”

“Perhaps it would be best if Lord Berkley actually met Miss Effington,” Marcus said smoothly. Reggie wondered exactly what point in the odd conversation had caught the earl’s attention, although knowing Marcus, he had probably listened to every word.

“Yes. Most certainly. I shall fetch her at once.” Effington leaned toward Reggie confidentially. “You won’t be sorry.” He grinned, nodded, and was off.

“You might well be sorry.” Marcus’s thoughtful gaze followed Effington’s progress. “I have the distinct impression that Effington is overly eager to see his sister wed. And furthermore that he thinks you are an excellent match.”

“I asked for an introduction, not her hand.”

“I’m not certain Effington sees the difference.” Marcus studied his friend. “You will be careful, won’t you?”

Reggie laughed. “I have no intention of being trapped into a marriage simply to alleviate the responsibility felt by anyone’s brothers.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Marcus paused. “What I’m trying to say is that you’re already intrigued by this lady. I can see you once again losing your heart. And I can see as well it being crushed. Again.”

“No, Marcus, never again. It has taken me far too many years to learn my lesson, but learn it I have. If there is a heart to be lost this time”—Reggie cast his friend a wicked grin—“it shall not be mine.”

“We shall see,” Marcus said softly without the least bit of conviction.

“Indeed we shall.” Reggie’s voice rang firm and confident.

Even so, he watched Effington make his way through the crowd toward his sister and knew full well, regardless of his words, that he could indeed easily give his heart to Miss Cassandra Effington. He knew it just from the look of her.

But he’d been down that road far too many times before, and he would not tread it again. He absolutely would not offer his affection to any woman until he was certain it was returned. It was Marcus’s successful marriage and the obvious love he shared with his wife that had forced Reggie to reassess his own life. What he’d seen was a man who’d freely and unadvisedly given his heart over and over again and had inevitably suffered heartbreak in return. Oh, certainly, he’d never known devastation so great that it hadn’t been cured by a few days in a drunken stupor. And yes, his wounded heart had typically healed within a fortnight, usually less. And perhaps it had been as much his pride as his heart that had been at stake.

Still and all, it would not happen again.

For once in his life he wanted to be loved before he offered love. He wanted a woman to want him as much as he wanted her. And he absolutely refused to ever again declare himself before he was certain his affection was returned.

No, he would keep his distance from Miss Effington. She was dangerous. Extremely dangerous. And not at all what he’d had in mind when he’d started his campaign to attract the fairer sex. Besides, she didn’t look even remotely likely to fall at his feet.

Two

The men women seem most taken with are those I wouldn’t let alone in a room with my sister for so much as the blink of an eye. A crowded room at that.

Reginald, Viscount Berkley

“I should like to congratulate you on your victory, my lord.” Cassie gazed coolly into Lord Berkley’s intriguing gray eyes and tried to ignore just how intriguing they were.

“And did you win a great deal, Miss Effington?” Lord Berkley raised her hand to his lips. His gaze never left hers, in a manner both disconcerting and altogether too polished. No doubt he’d had a great deal of practice.

“If indeed I wagered at all, why on earth would you think I had wagered on you?” She resisted the urge to pull her hand from his. Doing so would be an admission of sorts that the intimacy of her hand in his was the tiniest bit uncomfortable, and such realization would only add to the smug twinkle in his eye. The man was obviously far and away too arrogant as it was. “After all, your contest was with my brother.”

“In truth, Miss Effington, I don’t know that you had wagered on me.” His gaze trapped hers, and she was gripped by the disturbing idea that he saw far more than other people. As if his gray eyes, his most intriguing gray eyes, looked beyond the surface of her words to the privacy of her thoughts. “I can only hope.”

“Your words are as practiced as your manner, my lord.” She withdrew her hand from his in a most deliberate way. “But I daresay, from what I have heard about the infamous Viscount Berkley, you have had a great deal of experience.”

Christian groaned. “Cassandra.”

“Infamous?” Berkley raised a brow in what appeared to be surprise, then he laughed. “I don’t believe anyone has ever called me infamous before.” He flashed a grin at Lord Pennington. “What do you think, Pennington? Am I infamous?”

“Becoming more so every moment, I should think,” Pennington said coolly. Berkley laughed again, and she ignored the nearly irresistible urge to join him. No doubt that contagious laugh was a large part of his charm. Infamous or otherwise.

“May I ask you, Miss Effington, if you find men of an infamous nature interesting?”

“Not in the least. Indeed, I find they should all be avoided.” She tried not to cringe at the overly prim tone in her voice. She hadn’t meant to sound quite so stuffy.

“All of them?” His eyes widened in surprise.

“Every one.”

“But you have not met every one.”

“I have met enough.”

“You have never met me.”

“Nonetheless, I do think—”

“I think you should allow me the opportunity to persuade you that underneath this infamous facade is a delightful and really quite charming—”

“I have no doubt of your charm, my lord,” she said firmly. “Nor do I have any doubt you employ it whenever possible.”

He shrugged in a manner of feigned humility. “When one has a gift, one finds it necessary to share.”

“When one is presented with something unpleasant in the street, one finds it necessary to avoid stepping directly in it,” she said pleasantly, gazing at him with an innocence every bit as contrived as his modesty. Christian groaned again. Pennington snorted.

Berkley stared for a moment, then smiled slowly. A smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and triggered the oddest sensation deep in the pit of her stomach. “Excellent, Miss Effington. Really very good. I am most impressed.”

“I’m pleased you enjoyed it,” she murmured and tried to ignore the heat that flushed up her face. Whatever had possessed her? While she was typically forthright, she was never actually rude. Until now.

“I did. Very much so.” Berkley chuckled. “Now, would you allow me the privilege of escorting you to the luncheon tables? I know I am famished, and surely the severe nature of your observations has honed your appetite as well as your words.”

This time Pennington groaned, and Christian no doubt winced, although she didn’t see him. Indeed the rest of the world seemed to fade into the distance.

Berkley’s gaze locked with hers and carried a distinct challenge. Cassie lifted her chin and met his gaze without flinching. The moment between them stretched, lengthened like a silent duel of wills. Her heart thudded in her chest, and while she was intensely aware of all things physical, she was more aware of an odd connection with this man, this stranger. A meeting of minds, perhaps. A recognition of a strength not unlike her own. It was at once frightening and the most exciting thing she’d ever experienced. Whatever else he was, Lord Berkley was no fool. What harm would it do to trade barbs with him? She had no intention of further involvement, but engaging him in a battle of wits would be most amusing.

“Indeed I will, my lord, if you accept my apology.” She offered him a contrite smile. “I fear my words might have been somewhat impolite.”

“Somewhat,” he said and offered his arm.

Cassie glanced at her brother. “Are you coming?”

“In a moment.” Christian’s voice was excessively cheery. “I wish to speak to Lord Pennington first about a matter of mutual interest, if he doesn’t mind. Do go on ahead.”

“What matter?” Pennington’s brows drew together.

Christian cast him a warning look, then nodded pointedly at his sister and Berkley. Pennington glanced from Christian to Berkley, and the confusion on his face cleared. “Oh. Yes, of course. A matter of mutual interest. Certainly. I can see where it would be.”

Berkley leaned closer to her, his voice low. “They’re both quite mad, you know.”

She laughed in spite of herself. “I have long suspected it of all my brothers.”

She took his arm, trying to ignore the hard muscles beneath the fine fabric of his coat and the unnerving way the heat of his skin could be felt even through the layers of material, and they started toward the tables.

“I must apologize for my brother as well as myself,” she said lightly. “He is not overly subtle, is he?”

Berkley laughed. “Not overly, no.”