The Pursuit Of Marriage (4 page)

She heaved a long-suffering sigh. “He thinks you’re an excellent match, and he and my other brothers want me to marry. They’re not especially concerned as to who I wed, only that I do so. They would prefer someone with an acceptable title and income, but I think their only true requirement in a husband for me is his ability to walk upright and speak rather than grunt, although even that is probably open to negotiation.”

“How nice to know I meet their minimal standards,” Berkley said wryly.

“That is yet to be determined.” She laughed and shook her head. “Oh dear, I should probably apologize to you yet again. I have an annoying tendency to speak my mind. To say exactly what I think. It has, on occasion, proven awkward and produced consequences that I did not foresee.”

“I can well imagine.”

“Nonetheless, it is my nature, and I see no need to change it.”

“Nor should you.”

“Do you really think so?” She glanced up at him.

“Indeed I do.”

“Most men of my acquaintance would advise me to hold my tongue or, at the very least, temper my words.”

“Ah, but you have not yet been acquainted with me.” Amusement colored his voice. “Although I would advise you to curb voicing your opinions about the behavior of most men or even infamous men. We are not all alike.”

“Still, I am rarely wrong.”

He laughed, and she realized how very pompous she sounded. Odd, she couldn’t recall ever sounding pompous before.

“I warn you, I am a firm believer in honesty as well.” She paused, a rather startling number of past incidents, most in tandem with her sister, parading through her mind. “Under most circumstances.”

“Honesty is an excellent quality.” He bit back a smile. “Under most circumstances.”

“Therefore I feel compelled to be truthful with you. I should not want you to escort me under false pretenses.”

“I am merely accompanying you to a meal,” he said mildly. “I’d scarce call this a declaration of intentions.”

“Of course not.” They reached the tables laden with an appetizing array of offerings, including an inciting display of sweets. Cassie barely noticed. “I didn’t mean…Regardless.” She released his arm and turned to meet his gaze. “Lord Berkley, I am trying to explain to you that in spite of my brother’s obvious intention of introducing us with an eye toward a future match, I must tell you I am not, well, interested.”

“Interested?” He narrowed his eyes in confusion. “What do you mean, interested?”

“In you.” She caught herself. “Oh, I don’t mean you as an individual, I mean you in the broader sense. The type of man you are. I simply have no interest in a man of your reputation.”

“Infamous?” he said slowly.

“Exactly.” She nodded and cast him a pleasant smile.

He studied her thoughtfully. “Most women of my acquaintance find men of a certain nature, dark and dangerous and the like, to be rather exciting.”

“No doubt women of your acquaintance do, which is exactly why they are of your acquaintance.” She met his gaze directly. “I, however, do not. A man with a reputation for gaming and drinking and consorting with countless numbers of unsuitable women—”

“Countless?” Surprise sounded in his voice, and he actually appeared pleased. She pulled her brows together. “Surely that does not surprise you?”

“No. No, of course not.” He tried and failed to suppress a delighted grin. “I was there, after all.”

She sniffed in disdain. “At any rate, my lord, I am not interested in any man whose life is as fast and loose as yours. I do not find rakes and scoundrels to be the least bit attractive. Furthermore, I have no intention of reforming any man or molding him to my specification. No, I want a man who is already—”

“Perfect.” Berkley’s eyes narrowed. “That’s what you’re saying.”

“Nonsense, there is no such thing as a perfect man.” She thought for a moment. “Although I suppose that is what I’m saying.”

“I see.” His tone was level and noncommittal.

“I suspected you would. And while you are quite a bit nicer than I had expected,” she drew a deep breath, “you and I simply will not suit.”

“I see,” he said again.

“Is that all you have to say?”

For a moment, she had the oddest hope that he would protest her words. Demand a chance to win her hand. Her heart. It was a ridiculous idea, of course. He was not at all what she wanted in a husband. It was probably nothing more than his infectious laugh or the intriguing nature of his gray eyes that had put such an absurd thought in her head.

“My dear Miss Effington.” He chose his words with care. “I fear you and your brother have jumped to a far-fetched conclusion of permanence based on nothing more than a request for an introduction and an innocent walk in the midst of a rather substantial gathering.”

“Oh no, I didn’t think—”

“Oh, but you did.” His voice was cool, as if he were discussing something of no significance whatsoever. “And as you are a proponent of honesty, under most circumstances, I feel I should be entirely honest with you.”

“Of course,” she said weakly. As much as she preferred honesty, she wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to hear whatever honesty compelled him to say.

“You are obviously intelligent and confident in your own nature, qualities I quite admire in a woman. In addition, you are forthright and outspoken. While the tendency to speak your mind is perhaps not as preferable as your penchant for honesty, one never has to guess precisely where he stands in your eyes.

And that is most beneficial. In that spirit, therefore, I must confess to what you already know.”

His gaze was calm and unwavering, his voice level and matter-of-fact. The only evidence at all that indicated otherwise was the gleam in his narrowed eyes, eyes that now looked more silver than gray.

“While you have no desire to marry a man in need of,” he cleared his throat, “reform, I have no desire for a wife with an unyielding view of the world and those in it. I am not perfect, Miss Effington, nor do I wish to be. Frankly, I cannot imagine anything more frightfully dull than perfect. You are clever and lovely and may well be perfect in many ways. Indeed, I suspect there is a great deal more to you beyond what is readily apparent. I regret that I have neither the fortitude nor the endurance required to know you better.

“Therefore, Miss Effington, I must admit I quite agree with you. We will not suit. However, I do wish you luck in your quest for…for…Lord Perfect.” He nodded a curt bow, turned, and started off. At once regret swept through her, accompanied by the strangest feeling that perhaps, just this once, she had made a dreadful mistake. Without thinking she called after him.

“Forty pounds, my lord.”

He turned back and raised a brow. “Forty pounds?”

She drew a deep breath. “That’s how much I won.”

He studied her for a moment, and the slightest hint of a smile turned up the corners of his mouth. He nodded again, turned, and strode back down the hill.

She stared after him. He was indeed a fine figure of a man, this infamous Lord Berkley. Tall and handsome with eyes that saw into her soul and a laugh that echoed in her blood.

“Dash it all, Cass, why couldn’t you have been the least bit pleasant to him,” Christian said from behind her. She hadn’t even noted his approach. “Berkley is an excellent catch.”

“I was pleasant. I am always pleasant. Unfailingly pleasant.”

Lord Pennington joined Lord Berkley, and she would have given a great deal to know exactly what they were saying. What he was saying about her. Certainly she’d been honest, perhaps even blunt, but she wouldn’t have termed her manner unpleasant. A heavy weight settled in the pit of her stomach. Perhaps she had been a touch unpleasant.

“No doubt.” A note of resignation sounded in Christian’s voice. He turned to peruse the repast laid out on the tables, and Cassie sent a silent prayer of thanks heavenward that he had turned his attention elsewhere.

“He certainly doesn’t have the appearance of a man who has just finished a pleasant conversation,”

Christian said idly.

She rescinded the prayer, plucked a piece of cheese from a platter, and thrust it at her brother. “This looks good.”

“Indeed it does.” Christian grinned and took the morsel. “I’d say he has the appearance of a man who has had a narrow escape. Even a man running for his life.”

“He simply realized we would not suit.” She forced a light note to her voice, as if it did not matter. It didn’t, of course. He was not at all what she wanted in a husband.

“He determined that after only a few minutes, did he?” Christian raised a skeptical brow. “Perhaps you should tell me again how pleasant you were.”

“Unfailingly pleasant,” she muttered.

Christian snorted in disbelief. “Regardless of what you may have heard about him, Berkley is an excellent catch.”

“I heard you the first time you said it, and you may say it a hundred more times and I shall continue to disregard it. You know full well I have no wish to marry or reform a rake.”

“I have heard you say it a hundred times, and I daresay I will hear you say it a hundred more.” Christian smirked. “And I shall continue to disregard it.” He popped the cheese into his mouth.

“The way you and Leo and Drew persist in ignoring my opinions and desires about whom I shall wed is becoming altogether tedious.” She blew a frustrated breath. “Why is it that you persist in believing that I am too feebleminded to make my own decisions on an issue as important as the rest of my life?”

“On the contrary, dear sister, we think you are far and away too clever for your own good. We think you have too many opinions and some of them entirely wrong.

“For example, Cass, everyone but you accepts that reformed rakes make the best husbands. It’s practically gospel. Why, I myself shall make an excellent husband at some point in the future. Some far, far distant point.”

He flashed the same irresistible smile all three brothers shared. The smile her mother said was written in the stars. The very smile that made the knees of unsuspecting women weak and was cast by any number of men of questionable reputation.

Cassie was anything but unsuspecting.

“I do not envy whatever foolish woman takes on the task of your reformation,” she said firmly but couldn’t quite hide an affectionate smile.

She truly liked her brothers, all three of them; they were most amusing, even if she did not always approve of their behavior. When she thought about it, and the subject had preyed on her mind a lot recently, they had a great deal to do with why she had no interest in men with any sort of disreputable qualities. Oh, certainly Leo and Drew and Christian were not bad sorts overall, but Cassie had watched them through the years cut a swath through society and leave a trail of broken hearts in their wake. Even so, she had little pity for those poor creatures left pining over her brothers. Their nature was no secret, and any woman who became involved with them well deserved the consequences. Only a fool would allow herself to get involved with men like her brothers. Her gaze drifted back to Berkley. Or a man like that. Cassandra Effington was no fool. She knew his type of man as well as she knew herself.

She had long suspected, somewhere in the back of her mind, that her avowed aversion to disreputable men, infamous men, was a ruse. That, in truth, she was very much attracted to men who skated on the edge of scandal. To men who, like her brothers, lived life according to their own rules. Men who were as untrustworthy as they were charming. Men who would break her heart. Men exactly like Lord Berkley. He was dangerous. Very dangerous, and she would do well to avoid him in the future—not that that would be at all difficult, given how pleasantly she’d treated him. It was for the best. The man she wanted, the perfect man for her, Lord Perfect, was waiting somewhere in her future. And she was confident someday they would meet. Why, hadn’t her mother said such a meeting was foretold in the stars?

And surely he would wipe away any lingering memories of a knowing, silver gaze and seductive laugh.

“I’ve been something of a fool, haven’t I?” Reggie muttered as he stalked down the rise, Marcus at his side.

“Now and again.” Marcus’s forehead furrowed curiously. “Did you have a specific incident in mind?”

Reggie slanted him an annoyed glance. “Why didn’t you tell me this plan of mine was absurd?”

“I did tell you. Several times, in fact.”

Of course Marcus had tried to dissuade him. As much as Reggie hated to admit it now, he distinctly remembered Marcus’s arguments. Arguments that seemed rather more valid at the moment than they had six months ago. “You didn’t do a good job of it though, did you?”

“I did an excellent job. Beyond listing the more ridiculous aspects of your proposal, I believe I pointed out that while women do not fall at your feet precisely, you are considered extremely eligible and there are now and always have been any number of ladies more than interested in pursuing an acquaintance with you.”

“Regardless.” Reggie waved away the comment. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

“Nothing short of the forces of nature could have stopped you.” Marcus shook his head. “I learned in those long past days of our youth, when you were getting into any number of scrapes I had tried to talk you out of, and pulling me in with you, that when you have set your mind on a particular course dissuading you is next to impossible. Indeed, I have always considered your dogged determination to be something of a force of nature in and of itself.”

“Even so—”

“Beyond that.” Reluctance sounded in Marcus’s voice. “As absurd as it sounds, I thought it could be rather amusing and possibly…perhaps…there was the slight chance…” He blew a resigned breath. “It could actually work.”

Reggie snorted. “It hasn’t thus far.”

“I was wrong.” Marcus shrugged, then grinned. “Although it has been entertaining.”

Reggie ignored him. “I really can’t understand what happened. It seemed foolproof. Women love the type of man we have made me out to be. They should be flinging themselves at me in great numbers. Yet I am no better off now than I was before.”

Marcus heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Need I mention, again, you were not in dire straits when we began. Women have—”

“Not the right woman.” Reggie’s jaw clenched. “Never the right woman.” The right woman, or at least the woman with the potential for being the right woman, was never the one to show interest in him of an affectionate nature. He had always been the one to fall in love. And he had always been the one left alone.

Marcus’s tone was level. “I gather Miss Effington refused to fling herself in your direction.”

“Miss Effington is an extremely intriguing lady who knows precisely what she wants and refuses to settle for less. Furthermore she does not hesitate to voice her desires in no uncertain terms.”

“That does not sound promising,” Marcus murmured.

“No, it doesn’t, does it?” Reggie cast his friend a rueful smile. “Especially as she has no interest in men of an infamous nature.”

“That is a problem.”

“And ironic as well.” Reggie paused, gripped by the memory of that one mesmerizing moment when they’d gazed into each other’s eyes. “There was something between us when we met—”

“You’ve said that before,” Marcus said quickly. “Any number of times. It’s the point at which I realize you are about to plunge headfirst into—”

“This was different, Marcus.”

“You’ve said that before too.”

Reggie resisted the urge to argue with his friend. Marcus was right: Reggie had made similar claims before upon meeting a charming lady. But this was indeed entirely different. Reggie wasn’t quite sure how exactly, but it was. There had been a spark in Miss Effington’s lovely blue eyes when her gaze had met his, a light of connection, an unstated admission perhaps that there could well be something special between them. As if in that moment, her soul had recognized his. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d fallen in love, but never once had he experienced anything remotely like this kind of mutual acknowledgment.

It was a ridiculous idea, of course. Why, she didn’t even like him. Or rather, she didn’t like what he was pretending to be.

“Well, I’m in for it now, aren’t I?”

“I would say so.” Marcus grimaced. “There’s really no way to reverse what we’ve done. You know as well as I, gossip of the sort we initiated feeds on itself and grows in the process. This victory of yours today will only enhance what we’ve set in motion. Congratulations, Reggie.” He laughed. “Like it or not, you are indeed the infamous Viscount Berkley.”

“I could reform,” Reggie said hopefully.

Marcus shook his head. “No one would believe it. Especially not Miss Effington.”

“It scarce matters, I suppose. She does not like who she thinks I am and would like me even less, if possible, if she knew the truth.” For a moment he considered exactly how to explain to Miss Effington that he wasn’t at all infamous but simply wished to be seen so to attract women who would then swoon at his feet, overcome with love. No, she would think it not only absurd but a bit pathetic as well.

“But you like her.”

“No, Marcus. I could like her. Very much. But I shall not allow myself to do so. Even though my method of changing my habits regarding the fairer sex does not appear to have been successful, I am quite serious nonetheless. Allowing myself to fall heels over head again without the least bit of encouragement from the lady in question is nothing more than falling into old ways.”

“But Miss Effington—”

“It is pointless to pursue the matter.” Reggie ignored a sharp stab of regret. “She shall go her way, and I shall go mine. If in the future our paths cross again, I shall be polite. Nothing more.”

Marcus studied him thoughtfully, then nodded. “I must admit I’m impressed.”

“Why?”

“Regardless of the dim-witted nature of your original plan, you are obviously indeed determined to change. It’s most admirable.” Marcus clapped him on the back. “The least I can do is lend my ongoing assistance beyond what I have already accomplished, unless, of course, you’d prefer to continue along this path. Another duel, perhaps?”

“I think not, but I do appreciate the offer.”

Marcus grinned modestly. “One does what one can for one’s friends.”

They could make light of it, but, for as long as Reggie could remember, Marcus had been his closest friend. Indeed, they were as close as brothers. Neither had ever let the other down, and neither ever would.

Yet with Marcus’s marriage last year, there had been a subtle change in their relationship. Not that Reggie felt he had lost a friend. No, if anything, he had gained one in Marcus’s wife, Gwen. It was another irony that Marcus, who had never especially looked for love, had found it, spent much of his life falling in and, unfortunately, out of love, had yet to find anything that could be called true or lasting or, for that matter, even a woman who would return his affection. The right woman. Perhaps he should lower his standards.