Tempted by a Lady's Smile (Lords of Honor #4)(4)

Gemma bounced on the soft mattress wrinkling the smooth, satin coverlet.

“Enough of me.” A determined glint lit Beatrice’s eyes that would have terrified a battle-hardened soldier. “We are discussing you.”

Gemma blinked. “We are?”

“We are,” Beatrice confirmed with an emphatic nod. “That is, your marital prospects.”

“I don’t have any prospects.” She merely had a hope and a prayer for the most sought-after, lord in the realm. A hope and a prayer, indeed.

Beatrice cast a look over at the closed door and then quickly claimed the spot beside Gemma. “And I’ve no doubt, Robert sees how truly special you are,” her loyal friend went on.

“Yes, but he must see me…amidst all the other ladies in attendance.” In short, a wilted weed among vibrant, fragrant, summer blooms. With a drawn out sigh, Gemma flopped backward on the bed. She stared at the broad, floral canopy overhead. What sorry days, indeed, when one relied on the aid of one’s friend to bring a gentleman up to scratch.

The mattress dipped as Beatrice lay beside her, shoulder to shoulder. “The man you’ve set your sights on is unlike the others. He sees past the preening and the fawning.”

Yes, Beatrice should know. After all, the gentleman in question was, in fact, her brother.

Her friend turned her head and gave a conspiratorial smile. “Furthermore, you have something the other ladies in attendance do not.”

“Oh, and what is that?” Gemma looked expectantly back at her.

“Why, you have me to help.” Beatrice popped up. “Robert is now fishing at the lake and should return near dusk, prior to the dinner party.” Beatrice stared pointedly at her. “Ahem.”

Gemma pushed herself into a sitting position alongside her friend. Why was Beatrice looking at her in that way? She shook her head once.

“I said ahem,” Beatrice made another clearing sound with her throat. “Robert.” She nudged her in the side. “He will be fishing at the lake at the edge of Papa’s property.”

Fishing at dusk. A soft sigh slipped past her lips. Of course the marquess would be clever enough to see the benefit in casting his line at that hour. Though in truth…Gemma chewed at her lower lip. “It is a nearly perfect idea,” she conceded.

Her friend’s smile dipped. “Nearly perfect?”

Oh, indeed. “Yes, well, during the day is an atrocious time because a fish has unlimited visibility. Ideally, dusk and just after dusk would be preferable given the angle of the ultraviolet light through the angles of—”

“Gemma.” Taking her by the shoulders, Beatrice looked her in the eye. “I am not discussing Robert’s cleverness in the sport of fishing.”

She tipped her head. “You aren’t?” Then what had been the whole point of mentioning his early evening excursion?

“No. I wasn’t.” Beatrice closed her eyes and her lips moved as though in prayer. She opened her eyes. “I am telling you he’ll be at the lake.” The other lady gave her a pointed look. “Fishing.” When Gemma still said nothing, her friend tossed her hands up. “Alone. He will be alone.”

As her friend’s meaning became at last clear, Gemma widened her eyes. A strangled laugh escaped her. “Surely you do not expect—?”

The mischievous glimmer that lit the flawless Lady Beatrice’s eyes would have shocked the ton. “I do expect it. Why, you know Robert is a rogue, so he needs a bit of a push and you are the one to give him that push.” She waggled her blonde eyebrows. “With a bit of assistance from your dearest friend.”

Her dearest and only friend. Regardless, she’d come to appreciate there was more good in having a loving, loyal friend like Beatrice than a ballroom full of false figures who didn’t know or care about her interests.

Gemma returned her attention to the canopy overhead. If her mother could hear her scheming, she would scuttle her off to London. After all, with her penchant for finding trouble, such plans could only end one way…

Now she must hope that one way involved marriage to Robert, the Marquess of Westfield.





Chapter 2





A summer party thrown together with the sole intention of matchmaking the respective guests in attendance was one Mr. Richard Jonas would typically avoid at all costs.

At three and thirty years, with the recently acquired reputation of rogue, and a desire to live for his own pleasures, the last thing he had any interest in was marriage. With the prospect of his own family gathering in the Kent countryside, he’d picked the far lesser of the two evils and accepted the invite of his childhood friend, Lord Westfield, and future Duke of Somerset.

Richard withdrew a flask from his pocket and took a swill of brandy, surveying the country lake. The dark blue sky dusted in crimson and orange ushered in night and cast a glow upon the smooth water.

Then, avoiding his family and the prospect of marriage hadn’t always been the case for Richard. Once, he’d desired marriage and… more, with a certain young woman.

Richard grimaced and took another swill. Said woman who happened to now be his sister-in-law, Lady Eloise, now blissfully and quite lovingly wedded to his younger brother. Yes, when presented with the possibility of seeing his very happily wed, now-expecting sister-in-law and his brother, he chose to face the ladies bent on matchmaking. Not that he had a care where those young women were concerned. After all, a viscount’s younger brother stood little chance of inheriting and offered little by way of a title or match for a grasping lady.