Good God. Had Carraway just fallen, nearly on his face, in the middle of Hyde Park? Greg’s eyes had widened at that, but even more so when he noticed that the blonde who was escaping the politician tugged a familiar dark-haired beauty off a nearby bench and then started quickly for the exit.

That dark-haired beauty, he’d never forget, not even if he wanted to. She really was stunning with the sun shining down on her, even more so than she had been the night before. She appeared distressed, however, and for the briefest of moments, Greg thought to follow the pair and see if they were all right, but they quickly climbed into a coach bearing the Prestwick crest and were gone a moment later. So he turned his attention back toward Tattersalls in Hyde Park Corner.

A number of fellows already filled the yard and Greg hoped he hadn’t missed a piece of horseflesh he might actually be interested in, but before he could reach his destination, he heard someone call out his name, “Greg Avery!”

Greg stopped in his tracks and glanced over his shoulder and a genuine smile did settle across his lips. Good God, it had been a lifetime since he’d seen his old friend, the Earl of Thurlstone. “Simon Masters!” he replied as he spun on his heel to greet the man.

Simon, with some fellow Greg had never seen before, strode across the park until they’d reached him. “Has the world come to an end?” his old friend teased as he reached his hand out to Greg. “When did you get to Town?”

“A few weeks ago,” Greg replied. Then he nodded in greeting toward the stranger who’d followed Simon’s lead across the park.

“A few weeks ago?” his friend echoed, incredulously. “And you didn’t think to seek me out before now? I am wounded.”

Simon had always been prone to exaggerations. The man wasn’t wounded in the least, but he had become quite the lothario in the years since they’d been in school together. “Just assumed you were busy debauching virgins when you weren’t making sacrifices to the Gods,” he said, remembering a particular school prank that nearly had Simon thrown out of Eton in their third year.

His old friend shook his head. “One pagan ritual, and you never let me forget it.” Then he gestured to the fellow at his side. “Lord Avery, Mr. John Heaton of Boston,” he introduced the two of them.

“My lord,” Heaton said, his American accent unmistakable. How very unusual in the middle of Hyde Park, Americans being so rare on this side of the Atlantic.

“Pleasure,” Greg muttered in greeting.

“Where are you headed?” Simon asked.

“Tattersalls.” Greg gestured to Hyde Park Corner. “My stables need stocking.”

“We’ll join you,” Simon replied, then nodded toward his companion. “Showing Heaton all the sites of Town while he’s here.” He smiled at the American. “Tattersalls has the greatest selection of horseflesh found on any continent, I’m sure.”

“Well, then, lead on,” Heaton replied good-naturedly.

As the trio started toward Tattersalls together, Simon said to Greg. “I have just bought into Heaton’s shipping company. You are looking at two-thirds of Heaton, Pierce and Masters shipping.”

Simon Masters was going into trade? His priggish father was probably rolling over in his grave somewhere. “Indeed?”

“I think it’ll be a grand adventure,” his friend continued. And as they approached Tattersalls yard, he groaned.

Greg glanced at his friend. “Some sort of problem?”

Simon scrubbed a hand down his face. “Damned Sarsden is here?”

Greg nodded. “He’s been here every time I’ve come by, actually.”

“As though he could possibly know anything about horseflesh or anything else of merit.” His friend shook his head as Harry Kearnsy, Viscount Sarsden started toward them. Then he muttered to Heaton, “Do try not to judge all Englishmen by this particular dullard.”

“Ah!” Sarsden called to Greg. “Wondered if you were going to make it today.”

Until his return to London, Greg hadn’t laid eyes on Sarsden since their school days. He wasn’t the most interesting fellow. Simon was right on that account. But while Greg wouldn’t have ever considered Sarsden a friend, he had been friendly enough the last few weeks. “Hoping there’s something worth seeing today.”

Simon half-heartedly muttered introductions and then turned his eye to the yard. “Looks like a nice Arabian,” he said.

“Indeed, indeed,” Sarsden agreed. “Everyone is chatting about that fellow.”

The horse was a good size and his gait seemed even, but there was something about him Greg didn’t care for. The look in his eyes, perhaps? “Everyone else can have him, as far as I’m concerned.”

Sarsden shook his head. “On my life, Avery, you are the hardest to please fellow I know.”

“Nothing wrong with being discerning,” Simon muttered under his breath, and Greg bit back a smile.

Not that Sarsden cared as the man proceeded to wax poetic over the Arabian’s color and his lineage until Greg scrubbed a hand down his face in boredom. Simon had called their former classmate a dullard and that might be quite the compliment.

“Just selective about what I’ll add to my stables,” Greg finally said. “I am the one who has to live them, after all. There’s no use wasting money for no good reason.”

“Here, here,” Simon agreed.

Sarsden laughed at that. “Think I could bring my wife around Avery House this afternoon and you could press upon her the same sentiment?”

What in the world was that supposed to mean? Greg tilted his head to see the man better and frowned in response. “I beg your pardon?”

But his old schoolmate only shook his head once more. “On my life, the woman spends money faster than she breathes.”

“Which is precisely why I don’t have one,” Simon said with a sigh. “That and whenever a fellow gets married he becomes more of a bore than he had been previously.”

“Present company excluded, I would hope.” Sarsden frowned at Simon.

Simon, however, did not amend his statement in the least. Instead, he added, “Any man who enjoys his freedom and full coffers, would be well to avoid matrimony forever, or at least as long as he is able.”

“The freedom bit is quite true,” Sarsden agreed, apparently letting the slight to his general person go for the moment. “My wife subjected me to two musicales this last week? Two of them. And telling her I do not enjoy such entertainments fell completely upon deaf ears, let me assure you.”

At that Greg snorted. “Everything I say falls on my sister-in-law’s deaf ears.”

Sarsden smacked his hand to Greg’s back. “And not even getting the benefits of her warming your bed. At least I have that going for me.”

“Everyone should have something,” Simon muttered, though Sarsden didn’t appear to notice the comment as a nice looking Andalusian entered the yard and caught his attention.

“Can you find something wrong with that one?” he asked Greg.

Not at first glance. Actually, Greg liked the look of the mare. “On the contrary, she might be a very nice addition to my stables. I’d want to look at her more closely, of course.”

“No spontaneity, huh?”

Greg hadn’t been accused of that in a long time. And after the trouble his recklessness had gotten him into when he was younger, he was certain it would never be said about him again. “Much prefer being sensible in all things. Makes life less complicated.”

“Less complicated.” Simon snorted. “Oh for God’s sake, Greg,” he grumbled. “You sound as much of a bore as Sarsden, here. At that rate, you might as well find a bride and then go stick your own spoon in a wall. What is the point of living if life isn’t a grand adventure?”

“I have duties, Simon. Same as you. And being sensible makes everything easier.” Greg narrowed his eyes on his old friend.

“Easier.” Simon shook his head. “Life isn’t meant to be easy. It’s meant to be enjoyed, experienced. You used to know that. I think you’ve been hiding out in Nottinghamshire entirely too long, my friend.”

Greg had done his share of experiencing life. And he was still reeling from the aftermath of his youthful foolishness. “We’re not twenty any longer.”

At that Simon grinned. “And thank God for it, what an idiot I was at twenty.”

He might still be an idiot at thirty-two. “I’m going to go take a closer look at the Andalusian.

“By all means,” Simon chuckled. “Do be sensible, Greg, whatever you do. Make a careful and well thought-out choice.”

* * *

Bella’s stomach twisted and turned the short distance from Hyde Park to Clayworth House on Hertford Street. She desperately needed a way out of her predicament, but revealing the awfulness of her situation to a near perfect stranger was not conducive to her health.

Lissy was in an odd mood herself. It must have been that conversation with Lord Carraway, and Bella didn’t have the first clue of how to broach that subject without getting her head bitten off. So she sat stoically on the coach bench across from Lissy, her hands folded in her lap.

In no time, they’d reached their destination and stood on the front stoop at Clayworth House. The large door opened and a grey-haired butler stood before them.

“Good afternoon, Higgins,” Lissy began brightly as she pulled Bella into the foyer alongside her. “Please inform Lady Clayworth that I’d like an audience.”

Heavens, it was more real now that they were in the countess’ home. “What if she’s not here?” Bella whispered.

After the butler shut the front door and then started down the corridor, Lissy turned her attention back to Bella. “She’s always in. Ever since she became a mother, Cordie spends nearly every waking hour doting on her son.”

“If she’s always in, she might not be able to help,” Bella said, wondering for the hundredth time why they were standing in Lady Clayworth’s house. It was ridiculous to even be here. Of course, her situation was dire. She needed to do something. “Don’t we need someone well connected? Someone—”

Lissy slid her arm around Bella’s shoulders easing her fears just a bit. “Trust me, Bella. Cordie is better connected than either of us, and she’ll know exactly what to do.”

A moment later, the butler returned to the foyer and gestured to a room right down the corridor. “Her ladyship is expecting you in the green parlor, Lady Felicity.”

“Thank you, Higgins. You are a dear.” Lissy breezed past the butler, towing Bella alongside her.

As soon as they stepped over the threshold, the beautiful and graceful Countess of Clayworth rose from her spot on a brocade settee, tossed her dark tresses over one shoulder, and rushed to greet them.

“Lissy!” The countess kissed her friend’s cheek. “What a surprise. What are you doing here?”

“I’m so glad to find you in, Cordie.” She gestured to Bella with a tilt of her head. “She needs your help.”

“My help?” Lady Clayworth’s green eyes flashed with surprise as she glanced from Lissy to Bella. “Lady Arabella, isn’t it?”

She remembered her. Was that a good thing or bad one? Had she thought Bella odd? Was that it?

“I am sorry,” Lissy began. “Bella Winslett, Cordie Clayworth.”

“We met at Lady Eccleston’s al fresco last season,” Bella said softly.

“Of course we did.” The countess smiled in return. “You wore a lilac spencer, and I remember thinking how adorable you looked in it.”

At least the countess was friendly. It might be easier than she thought to confide in the lady. Bella took a calming breath. “That is kind of you.”

Lady Clayworth gestured back to the settee she’d just abandoned. “Do have a seat, and tell me what sort of help you’re in need of.”

Bella followed the countess to the settee while Lissy dropped into a chintz chair across from them. “Tell her everything, Bella.”

Everything? Bella gulped. Even Lissy didn’t know everything. Still, she nodded tentatively, then pressed on. “If I don’t find a husband—”

“Fiancé,” Lissy interrupted. “There’s no reason to marry the man.”

“Which man are we talking about?” Lady Clayworth asked, looking more confused by the second.

“Any man will do,” Bella hastened to explain. “As long as he isn’t my cousin.”

“Her horrid cousin,” Lissy threw in.

Horrid was most definitely the correct word. Bella nodded in agreement. “You see, my grandfather, the Duke of Chatham, is quite adamant that I marry my Prussian cousin when he arrives in England.” She snorted, no matter how unladylike it was. “Says he has strong barbarian blood.”

“There’s something to recommend him,” Lissy grumbled.

Bella shrugged. “Grandpapa seems to think it’s a noble trait.” She’d certainly heard him say so enough times over the years to be sure of the fact. “Johann certainly has the manners of a barbarian.” An anxious sigh escaped her as an image of her cousin flashed in her mind. “He has the coldest blue eyes. Looking at him makes me shiver. And he’s impossibly mean. He barks and grumbles about nearly everything and...” Bella swiped at a tear. Blast it! This was no time to cry! “Lady Clayworth, I’d rather convert to Catholicism and live the rest of my life out as a nun than marry my cousin.” And that was the truth of it. An option she could still keep open if needs be, no matter how dramatic it sounded.

“Well, I should hope it wouldn’t come to that.” The countess smiled sympathetically and squeezed Bella’s hand. She did have a calm exterior about her. Sitting beside Lady Clayworth made Bella feel a tiny bit better, as though the countess really could help fix her problem.

“If Bella is betrothed before her cousin arrives, she won’t have to marry her cousin,” Lissy explained.

Bella nodded quickly in agreement.

“All she needs is a borrowed fiancé, at least until her cousin returns to the continent.”

“Borrowed?” Lady Clayworth’s brow rose in surprise.

“Well, she may not want to keep him. I mean, what are the odds she’ll find the love of her life in the next fortnight?” Lissy shook her head. “That would be as likely as finding a needle in a haystack. We’d be better off finding a gentleman who wouldn’t mind being part of the ruse.”

The countess frowned a bit as though she was sorting something out in her mind. Hopefully that was a good sign.

“So you see,” Lissy continued, “I thought Lord Haversham might be convinced to be of service.”

Lady Clayworth’s frown transformed to a look of sheer horror in less than a second. “I hardly think Marc would be a good candidate.”

“But you and Clayworth are such good friends with him.”

The countess heaved a sigh and cast a rueful glance in Bella’s direction. “I adore Lord Haversham. We both do. I owe him a debt I can never repay, but I’m certain Lady Arabella would like to leave this pretend betrothal with her reputation intact.”

Goodness! She didn’t even want to think about what her grandfather would do if her reputation ended up in shards. “Most definitely.”

“I’m certain Haversham could be convinced to help you, but he never helps without a cost, and I doubt you would want to pay his price.”

Whatever that meant, Bella was certain she didn’t want any part of it. “No, I don’t think I would,” she breathed out.

Lissy conceded with a sigh. “I thought about Edmund, but Fin refused to even listen to me.”

“You talked to Lord Carraway about this?” Lady Clayworth laughed. “What were you thinking?”

“That he might, for once, not be so blasted stuffy,” Lissy grumbled. “But, of course, he was. He doesn’t know any other way to be.”

The countess cast her a mischievous grin. “You’re always so hard on him.”

“Not that it does either of us any good.” Lissy shook her head. “But enough about him. We need to find a good candidate for Bella.” She sighed. “If only Tristan wasn’t already married.”

Another laugh escaped Lady Clayworth. “Yes, I don’t think Phoebe would appreciate him taking a fiancé.” Then her eyes lit with something…an idea, perhaps. “But I think I know the perfect man for the job,” she said carefully.

“Who?” Bella asked, leaning closer to the countess.

“A handsome fellow. Titled.” Lady Claywoth shrugged slightly. “He keeps mostly to his country estate, but he owes my husband a rather large debt.”

A handsome, titled gentleman who could be persuaded to participate in their ruse? Bella couldn’t imagine such a man existed.

“Who?” Lissy echoed.

Lady Clayworth stared intently at Bella. “Do you have aspirations for a love match?”

She was certain a blush stained her cheeks. Considering her strangeness, holding out for a love match wasn’t a luxury Bella had. “Aren’t such things fairy tales?”

“They don’t have to be,” the countess said softly.

They might as well be. The memory of the devoted couple she saw in the park that morning flashed in her mind, but Bella shook the thought away. Chasing the illusion of such devotion was certain to be a waste of time. “I don’t want to marry Johann. He’s angry and unkind. Beyond that, if I end up married to a courteous man, that’s all I require.”

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, Lady Clayworth patted Bella’s hands. “I’ll speak to the gentleman I have in mind then, and I’ll report back.”

“And he is?” Lissy pressed.

“I’d rather not say until I’ve had the chance to speak with him, but his name and reputation are intact. Bella’s family won’t find issue with him, you can trust me on that.”

Bella smiled thankfully. “I only have thirteen days to find someone, Lady Clayworth. And last night my brother made a spectacular spectacle of himself. If your gentleman can help me, I’ll be forever in your debt and in his.”

The countess smiled warmly. “Breathe easy, Lady Arabella. I’m certain the fellow I have in mind will be more than happy to be of assistance.”

* * *

What were the odds, Cordie Clayworth wondered, that the girl Greg had mentioned that morning would find herself in Cordie’s parlor that very afternoon? She knew without a doubt the girl was the one from the Astwicks’ ballroom. For one, she was the Duke of Chatham’s granddaughter, and for another the girl’s brother had made a spectacle of himself the previous evening. Lady Arabella was most definitely the girl who had so flummoxed Greg, she didn’t have a doubt.

Cordie knocked lightly on the door of her husband’s study, her mind spinning with ideas after Lissy and Lady Arabella’s visit. She did have the perfect man in mind for the job in question, but she’d have to get Brendan’s blessing. She needed, after all, to use the debt owed her husband to her advantage.

“Yes?” Brendan called.

She took a steadying breath then pushed the door open and stepped inside her husband’s private domain.

Upon seeing her, Brendan rose to his feet. “What a pleasant surprise,” he said, a charming smile lit his handsome face.

That smile still made her belly flip. She doubted she would ever tire of it. “I’m not disturbing you, am I?”

Brendan’s dark blue eyes twinkled as he stepped around his desk and closed the distance between them. “You could never disturb me, mon minouche.” He lightly caressed the apple of her cheek with his thumb. “Is everything all right?”

She nodded quickly. He’d always been a most caring husband, but he’d been even more so since her miscarriage…Cordie pushed the thought from her mind. She didn’t want to dwell on that, not now, not ever, if she could help it. And that was precisely why helping Lady Arabella, and perhaps her brother, was of the utmost importance. Aiding others would keep her mind off things she’d rather not think about. Besides, someone had to help the girl, and this was the perfect opportunity for Greg to make the amends he seemed to want to make. “But I wanted to talk to you about Greg.”

Brendan’s brow furrowed and his muscles visibly tightened. “I know I shouldn’t have said anything to him this morning, but his hypocrisy about that poor girl’s brother—”

“Brendan.” Cordie sighed. “I don’t blame him.” And she didn’t. Greg wasn’t responsible for their mother’s actions, even if he did blame himself.

“Well, that makes one of us.”

“Please.” She shook her head. Why did the male of the species have to be so difficult? “He is my brother and I do love him.”

Her husband said nothing, though his jaw did tighten a bit.

“I need you to forgive him, and I want him to find a way to forgive himself.”

Brendan heaved a sigh, but he was softening, she could see it in his eyes.

“I think I’ve stumbled upon a way for him to do that. A way to make reparations of a sort.”

“Reparations?” her husband echoed.

“An opportunity to help a girl in need of assistance, a girl whose own brother isn’t in any sort of condition to help her.”

“Who?” Brendan narrowed his eyes on her.

“The girl from last night at the Astwicks’. Lady Arabella Winslett. She’s a friend of Lissy’s, apparently, and…well, the two of them came to see me this afternoon. The girl is in need of help, and I think Greg is just the one to give it to her.”

“What kind of help?”

She wasn’t quite ready to divulge all of that to her husband just yet. He’d just accuse her of matchmaking and meddling in other’s lives like Caroline Staveley did, and while Cordie would find the comparison a great compliment, Brendan wouldn’t mean it as such. “I haven’t worked out all of the details yet.” That at least was the truth. The two of them might not rub along well. She’d have to see them together before she knew for certain. Either way, however, Greg could still be of assistance. “But I may need to twist his arm a bit.”

Her husband’s brow rose in question.

“I may need to use Marina’s name to spur him into compliance.”

Brendan closed his eyes, and a pang of regret stung Cordie’s heart. It wasn’t jealousy over Brendan’s first wife. Brendan had never loved Marina, their marriage had been nothing but a tortuous affair for both parties. But she hated mentioning his first wife for the simple fact that even in death Marina had tormented Brendan.

“You know he feel he owes you a debt that can never be repaid.”

“He can’t, but it has nothing to do with her.”

No, it had everything to do with Greg’s neglectful guardianship of Cordie. But Greg’s past inattention was something between her and her brother. It had nothing to do with Brendan, and she had long ago forgiven Greg. At the time she needed him most, her brother had been in a dark place of his own, consumed with heartache and misery over Marina’s passing and the death of their child. It was a heartache Cordie was quite familiar with. How could she not forgive her brother for tending to his own pain when she knew that pain so well herself? “Brendan, I’m asking for your permission to use Marina for my purposes. May I have it?”

He stared at her for quite a while, his midnight blue eyes seemed to stare straight into her soul. Finally, he shook his head. “You know I can never deny you anything, my love. If after all her machinations, Marina’s name can do someone some good, then by all means, you have my blessing.”

Cordie rose up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to her husband’s cheek. How she loved this man! He was everything to her, and while she would dearly love to fill their nursery with little ones, if they only ever had Julian, it would be enough. They had each other and that was more than most ever possessed.