CAROLINE SAT ALONE for a long time after Lord Drake left. She wondered uneasily what would become of her. Gossip would certainly abound once the news got out that she and Drake were courting. The unlikeliness of such a match would cause no end of jokes and snickers. Especially in light of the fact that she was notoriously particular in her choice of companionship.
Caroline had never been able to explain even to herself why she had never fallen in love. Certainly she was not a cold person—she had always had warm relationships with friends and relatives, and she knew herself to be a woman of very deep feeling. And she enjoyed dancing and talking and even flirting on occasion. But when she had tried to make herself feel something beyond casual liking for any one gentleman, her heart had remained stubbornly uninvolved.
“For heaven’s sake, love is not a prerequisite for marriage,” her mother had often exclaimed in exasperation. “You cannot afford to wait for love, Caro. You have neither the fortune nor the social position to be so fastidious!”
True, her father had been a viscount, but like the majority of viscounts, he did not possess a significant amount of land. A title and a small London estate were all the Hargreaves could boast of. It would have benefitted the family tremendously if Caroline, the only daughter, could have married an earl or perhaps even a marquess. Unfortunately most of the available peers were either decrepit old men, or spoiled, selfish rakes such as Andrew, Lord Drake. Given such a choice, it was no wonder that Caroline had chosen to remain unwed.
Dwelling on the subject of Andrew, Caroline frowned pensively. Her reaction to him was troubling. Not only did he seem to have a remarkable ability to provoke her, but he seemed to do it intentionally, as if he delighted in stoking her temper. But somewhere in the midst of her annoyance, she had felt a strange sort of fascination for him.
It couldn’t possibly be his looks. After all, she was not so shallow as to be undone by mere handsomeness. But she had found herself staring compulsively at the dark, ruined beauty of his face . . . the deep blue eyes shadowed from too little sleep, the cynical mouth . . . the slightly bloated look of a heavy drinker. Andrew possessed the face of a man who was determined to destroy himself. Oh, what terrible company he was for her brother Cade! Not to mention herself.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of her mother, Fanny, who had returned from a pleasant afternoon of visiting with friends. Strangers were often surprised to learn that the two were mother and daughter, for they did not resemble each other in any way except for their brown eyes. Caroline and Cade had inherited their late father’s looks and temperament. Fanny, by contrast, was blond and plump, with the mercurial disposition of a child. It was always disconcerting to try to converse with Fanny, for she disliked serious subjects and did not choose to face unpleasant realities.
“Caro,” Fanny exclaimed, coming into the parlor after giving her frilly plumed hat and light summer wrap to the housekeeper. “You look rather displeased, dear. What has caused such a sour expression? Has our darling Cade been up to his usual pranks?”
“Our darling Cade is doing his best to ensure that you will spend your final years in a workhouse,” Caroline replied dryly.
Her mother’s face wrinkled in confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, dear. What do you mean?”
“Cade has been gambling,” Caroline said. “He is going through all our money. Soon there will be nothing left. If he doesn’t stop soon, we’ll have to sell everything we own . . . and even that won’t fully satisfy his debts.”
“Oh, but you’re teasing!” Fanny said with an anxious laugh. “Cade promised me that he would try to restrain himself at the hazard tables.”
“Well, he hasn’t,” Caroline replied flatly. “And now we’re all going to suffer for it.”
Reading the truth in her daughter’s eyes, Fanny sat down heavily on the pink brocade settee. In the grim silence that followed, she folded her hands in her lap like a punished child, her rosebud mouth forming an O of dismay. “It’s all your fault!” she burst out suddenly.
“My fault?” Caroline gave her an incredulous stare. “Why on earth would you say that, Mother?”
“We wouldn’t be in this predicament if you had married! A rich husband would have provided enough funds for Cade to indulge his little habits with his friends, and taken care of us as well. Now you’ve waited too long . . . your bloom has faded, and you’re almost twenty-seven . . .” Pausing, Fanny became a bit tearful at the thought of having an unmarried daughter of such an advanced age. Pulling a lace handkerchief from her sleeve, she dabbed delicately at her eyes. “Yes, your best years are behind you, and now the family will come to ruin. All because you refused to set your cap for a wealthy man.”
Caroline opened her mouth to argue, then closed it with an exasperated sound. It was impossible to debate with someone so inured to the concept of logic. She had tried to argue with Fanny in the past, but it had served only to frustrate them both. “Mother,” she said deliberately. “Mother, stop crying. I have some news that might cheer you. This afternoon I received a visit from one of Cade’s friends—Lord Drake . . . do you remember him?”
“No, dear. Cade has so many acquaintances, I can never keep them all straight.”
“Drake is the Earl of Rochester’s only legitimate heir.”
“Oh, that one.” Fanny’s expression brightened with interest, her tears vanishing instantly. “Yes, what a fortune he will come into! I do indeed remember him. A handsome man, I recollect, with long, dark hair and blue eyes—”
“And the manners of a swine,” Caroline added.
“With an inheritance like that, Caro, one can overlook a few tiny breaches in etiquette. Do tell, what did Lord Drake say during his visit?”
“He . . .” Caroline hesitated, galled by the words she was about to say. She did not dare tell Fanny that the courtship between her and Drake would be only a charade. Her mother was a notorious gossip, and it would be only a matter of days—no, hours—before she let the truth slip to someone. “He expressed an interest in courting me,” Caroline said, stone-faced. “Toward that end, you and I will allow him to escort us to a weekend party given by Mr. and Mrs. Logan Scott, to be held within a fortnight.”
The news was almost too much for Fanny to digest at once. “Oh, Caro,” she exclaimed. “An earl’s son, interested in you . . . I can scarcely believe . . . Well, it’s nothing less than a miracle! And if you can bring him to scratch . . . what a fortune you will have! What land, what jewels! You would certainly have your own carriage, and accounts at the finest shops . . . Oh, this is the answer to all our problems!”
“So it would seem,” Caroline said dryly. “But do not get your hopes too high, Mother. The courtship hasn’t yet begun, and there is no guarantee that it will lead to marriage.”
“Oh, but it will, it will!” Fanny practically danced around the room. Her blond curls fluttered and her well-rounded form jiggled with excitement. “I have a feeling in my bones. Now, Caro, you must heed my advice—I will tell you exactly how to set the hook and reel him in. You must be agreeable, and flatter his vanity, and give him admiring gazes . . . and you must never, never argue with him. And we must do something about your bosom.”
“My bosom,” Caroline repeated blankly.
“You will let me sew some quilted lining into the bodice of your chemise. You are a lovely girl, Caro, but you are in definite need of enhancement.”
Assailed by a mixture of outrage and rueful laughter, Caro shook her head and smiled. “Quilted lining is not going to fool anyone. Especially not Lord Drake. But even if I did manage to deceive him, don’t you think it would be a great disappointment on our wedding night to discover that my bosom was false?”
“By then it would be too late for him to do anything about it,” her mother pointed out pragmatically. “And I would not call it a deception, Caro dear. After all, everyone must try to present herself or himself in the best light possible . . . that is what courtship is all about. The trick is to disguise all the unpleasant little faults that may put a man off, and maintain an air of mystery until you have finally landed him.”
“No wonder I have never caught a husband,” Caroline said with a faint smile. “I’ve always tried to be open and honest with men.”
Her mother regarded her sadly. “I do not know where you have gotten these ideas, dear. Honesty has never fanned the flames of a man’s ardor.”
“I will try to remember that,” Caroline replied gravely, fighting the temptation to laugh.
“THE CARRIAGE IS HERE,” Fanny said with a squeal, staring out the parlor window at the vehicle moving along the front drive. “Oh, it is so fine! All that red lacquer and a Salisbury boot and crane neck, and what a fine large wrought-iron baggage rack. And no less than four outriders. Hurry, Caroline, do come and have a look.”
“I had no idea you were so versed in the features of carriage construction, Mother,” Caroline said dryly. She joined her mother at the window, and her stomach clenched with anxiety as she saw the Rochester coat of arms on the side of the carriage. It was time for the charade to begin. “Where is Cade?” she asked.
“In the library, I believe.” Fanny continued to stare out the window, enthralled. “That dear, dear Lord Drake. Of all Cade’s acquaintances, he has always been my favorite.”
Amused despite her nervousness, Caroline laughed. “You didn’t even remember who he was until I told you!”
“But then I recalled how much I liked him,” Fanny countered.
Smiling wryly, Caroline wandered from the parlor to the small library, where her treasured collection of books was neatly stacked in the mahogany cases. Cade was at the sideboard, pouring a snifter of brandy from a crystal decanter.
“Are you ready to depart?” Caroline asked. “Lord Drake’s carriage is here.”
Cade turned with a glass in hand. His features, so like her own, were stamped with a scowl. “No, I am not ready,” he said sourly. “Perhaps after I drink the rest of this bottle, I will be.”
“Come, Cade,” she chided. “One would think you were being sent to Newgate instead of attending a weekend party with friends.”
“Drake is no friend of mine,” Cade muttered. “He has seen to it that I am deprived of everything I enjoy. I’m not welcome at any hazard table in town, and I have not been invited to a single damned club for the past two weeks. I’ve been reduced to playing vingt-et-un for shillings. How will I ever earn enough to repay my debts?”
“Perhaps working?”
Cade snorted at what he perceived was a great insult. “No Hargreaves has occupied himself with trade or commerce for at least four generations.”
“You should have thought of that before you gambled away everything Father left us. Then we wouldn’t have to attend this dratted weekend party, and I would not have to pretend interest in a man I detest.”
Suddenly shamefaced, Cade turned away from her. “I am sorry, Caro. But my luck was about to turn. I would have won back all the money, and more.”
“Oh, Cade.” She approached him and slid her arms around him, pressing her cheek against his stiff back. “Let us make the best of things,” she said. “We’ll go to the Scotts’ estate, and I’ll make calf eyes at Lord Drake, and you’ll make yourself agreeable to everyone. And someday Lord Drake will be back in his father’s will, and he will take care of your debts. And life will return to normal.”
Suddenly they were interrupted by the housekeeper’s voice. “Miss Hargreaves, Lord Drake has arrived. Shall I show him to the parlor?”
“Is my mother still in there?” Caroline asked.
“No, miss, she has gone upstairs to put on her traveling cloak and bonnet.”
Wishing to avoid being alone with Drake, Caroline prodded her brother. “Cade, why don’t you go welcome your friend?”
Evidently he was no more eager to see Drake than she. “No, I am going to show the footmen how I want our trunks and bags loaded on the carriage. You be the one to make small talk with him.” Cade turned to glance at her, and a rueful grin spread across his face. “It is what you will be doing all weekend, sweet sister. You may as well practice now.”
Giving him a damning look, Caroline left with an exasperated sigh and went to the parlor. She saw Andrew’s tall form in the center of the room, his face partially concealed as he stared at a landscape that hung on the wall. “Good day, my lord,” she said evenly. “I trust that you are . . .”
Her voice died away as he turned to face her. For a fraction of a second, she thought that the visitor was not Andrew, Lord Drake, but some other man. Stunned, she struggled silently to comprehend the changes that had taken place in him. The long, trailing locks of his dark hair had been cut in a new short style, cropped closely at the nape of his neck and the sides of his head. The alcoholic bloat of his face was gone, leaving behind a marvelously clean-lined jaw and hard-edged cheekbones. It seemed that he must have spent some time out-of-doors, for the paleness of his skin had been replaced by a light tan and the touch of windburn on the crests of his high cheekbones. And the eyes . . . oh, the eyes. No longer dark-circled and bloodshot, they were the clear, bright blue of sapphires. And they contained a flash of something—perhaps uncertainty?—that unraveled Caroline’s composure. Andrew seemed so young, so vital, remarkably different from the man who had stood with her in this very parlor just a fortnight ago.
Then he spoke, and it became evident that although his outward appearance had changed, he was still the same insufferable rake. “Miss Hargreaves,” he said evenly. “No doubt Cade has seen fit to tell you that I have upheld my part of the bargain. Now it is your turn. I hope you’ve been practicing your love-struck glances and flirtatious repartee.”
Somehow Caroline recovered herself enough to reply. “I thought all you wanted was ‘the appearance of pleasant companionship’ . . . those were your exact words, were they not? I think ‘love-struck’ is a bit much to ask, don’t you?”
“This past week I’ve gotten a complete accounting of Cade’s debts,” he returned grimly. “For what I’m going to have to pay, you owe me ‘love-struck’ and a damn sight more.”
“You have yourself to blame for that. If you hadn’t taken Cade along with you so many evenings—”
“It’s not entirely my fault. But at this point I’m not inclined to quarrel. Gather your things, and let’s be off.”
Caroline nodded. However, she couldn’t seem to make herself move. Her knees had locked, and she strongly suspected that if she took one step forward, she would fall flat on her face. She stared at him helplessly, while her heart thumped in a hard, uncontrollable rhythm, and her body flooded with heat. She had never experienced such a response to anyone in her life. Awareness of him pounded through her, and she realized how badly she wanted to touch him, draw her fingertips down the side of his lean cheek, kiss his firm, cynical mouth until it softened against hers in passion.
It can’t be, she thought with a burst of panic. She could not feel such things for a man as immoral and depraved as Andrew, Lord Drake.
Something in her round-eyed gaze made him uncomfortable, for he shifted his weight from one leg to another, and shot her a baleful glance. “What are you staring at?”
“You,” she said pertly. “I believe all your buttons have been fastened in the correct holes. Your hair appears to have been brushed. And for once you don’t reek of spirits. I was merely reflecting on the surprising discovery that you can be made to look like a gentleman. Although it seems that your temper is as foul as ever.”
“There is good reason for that,” he informed her tersely. “It’s been two weeks since I’ve had a drink or a wh—a female companion, and I’ve spent nearly every day at the family estate in the proximity of my father. I’ve visited with tenants and managers, and I’ve read account books until I’ve nearly gone blind. If I’m not fortunate enough to die of boredom soon, I’m going to shoot myself. And to top it all off, I have this damned weekend to look forward to.”
“You poor man,” she said pityingly. “It’s terrible to be an aristocrat, isn’t it?” He scowled at her, and she smiled. “You do look well, however,” she said. “It appears that abstinence becomes you.”
“I don’t like it,” he grumbled.
“That is hardly a surprise.”
He stared down into her smiling face, and his expression softened. Before Caroline could react, he reached out and plucked her spectacles from her nose.
“My lord,” she said, unsettled, “I wish you would stop doing that! Hand those back at once. I can’t see.”
Andrew extracted a folded handkerchief from his pocket and polished the lenses. “It’s no wonder your eyes are weak, the way you go about with your spectacles smudged.” Ignoring her protests, he polished them meticulously and held them up to the light from the window. Only when he was satisfied that they were perfectly clean did he replace them on her nose.
“I could see perfectly well,” she said.
“There was a thumbprint in the middle of the right lens.”
“From now on, I would appreciate it if you simply told me about a smudge, rather than ripping my spectacles off my face!” Caroline knew she was being ungrateful and thorny-tempered. Some part of her mind was appalled by her own bad manners. However, she had the suspicion that if she did not maintain a strategic animosity toward him, she might do something horribly embarrassing—such as throw herself against his tall, hard body and kiss him. He was so large and irascible and tempting, and the mere sight of him sent an inexplicable heat ripping through her.
She did not understand herself—she had always thought that one had to like a man before experiencing this dizzying swirl of attraction. But evidently her body was not reconciled with her emotions, for whether she liked him or not, she wanted him. To feel his big, warm hands on her skin. To feel his lips on her throat and breast.
A flaming blush swept all the way from her bodice to her hairline, and she knew his perceptive gaze did not miss the tide of betraying color.
Mercifully, he did not comment on it, but answered her earlier remark. “Very well,” he said. “What do I care if you walk into walls or trip over paving stones when you can’t see through your damn spectacles?”
IT WAS THE most peculiar carriage ride Andrew had ever experienced. For three hours he suffered under Cade’s disapproving glare—the lad regarded him as an utter Judas, and this in spite of the fact that Andrew was willing to pay all his debts in the not-too-distant future. Then there was the mother, Fanny, surely one of the most empty-headed matrons he had ever met in his life. She chattered in unending monologues and seemed never to require a reply other than the occasional grunt or nod. Every time he made the mistake of replying to one of her comments, it fueled a new round of inane babble. And then there was Caroline sitting opposite him, silent and outwardly serene as she focused on the ever-changing array of scenery outside the window.
Andrew stared at her openly, while she seemed completely oblivious to his perusal. She was wearing a blue dress with a white pelisse fastened over the top. The scooped neck of her bodice was modest, not revealing even a hint of cleavage—not that she had much cleavage to display. And yet he was unbearably stimulated by the little expanse of skin that she displayed, that exquisite hollow at the base of her throat, and the porcelain smoothness of her upper chest. She was tiny, almost doll-like, and yet he was spellbound by her, to the extent of being half-aroused despite the presence of her brother and mother.
“What are you looking at?” he asked after a while, irritated by her steadfast refusal to glance his way. “Find the sight of cows and hedges enthralling, do you?”
“I have to stare at the scenery,” Caroline replied without moving her gaze. “The moment I try to focus on something inside the carriage, I start to feel ill, especially when the road is uneven. I’ve been this way since childhood.”
Fanny interceded anxiously. “Caroline, you must try to cure yourself of that. How vexing it must be for a fine gentleman such as Lord Drake to have you staring constantly out the window rather than participating in our conversation.”
Andrew grinned at hearing himself described as a “fine gentleman.”
Cade spoke then. “She’s not going to change, Mother. And I daresay that Drake would prefer Caro to stare at the scenery rather than cast her accounts all over his shoes.”
“Cade, how vulgar!” Fanny exclaimed, frowning at him. “Apologize to Lord Drake at once.”
“No need,” Andrew said hastily.
Fanny beamed at him. “How magnanimous of you, my lord, to overlook my son’s bad manners. As for my daughter’s unfortunate condition, I am quite certain that it is not a defect that might be passed on to any sons or daughters.”
“That is good news,” Andrew said blandly. “But I rather enjoy Miss Hargreaves’s charming habit. It affords me the privilege of viewing her lovely profile.”
Caroline glanced at him then, quickly, rolling her eyes at the compliment before turning her attention back to the window. He saw her lips curve slightly, however, betraying her amusement at the flattery.
Eventually they arrived at the Scotts’ estate, which featured a house that was reputed to be one of the most attractive residences in England. The great stone mansion was surrounded with magnificent expanses of green lawn and gardens, and an oak-filled park in the back. The row of eight stone pillars in front was topped by huge sparkling windows, making the facade of the building more glass than wall. It seemed that only royalty should live in such a place, which made it rather appropriate for the family of Logan Scott. He was royalty of a sort, albeit of the London stage.
Caroline had been fortunate enough to see Scott perform in a production at the Capital Theater, and like every other member of the audience, she had found Scott to be breathtaking in his ability and presence. It was said that his Hamlet surpassed even the legendary David Garrick’s, and that people would someday read of him in history books.
“How interesting that a man like Mr. Scott is your half brother,” Caroline murmured, staring at the great estate as Andrew assisted her from the carriage. “Is there much likeness between you?”
“Not a farthing’s worth,” Andrew said, his face expressionless. “Logan was given a damned poor start in life, and he climbed to the top of his profession armed with nothing but talent and determination. Whereas I was given every advantage, and I’ve accomplished nothing.”
They spoke in quiet murmurs, too low to be heard by Cade and Fanny.
“Are you jealous of him?” Caroline could not help asking.
Surprise flickered across Andrew’s face, and it was clear that few people ever spoke so openly to him. “No, how could I be? Logan has earned everything he’s gotten. And he’s tolerated a great deal from me. He’s even forgiven me for the time I tried to kill him.”
“What?” Caroline stumbled slightly, and stopped to look up at him in astonishment. “You didn’t really, did you?”
A grin crossed his dark face. “I wouldn’t have gone through with it. But I was drunk as a wheelbarrow at the time, and I had just discovered that he had known we were brothers and hadn’t told me. So I cornered him in his theater, brandishing a pistol.”
“My God.” Caroline stared up at him uneasily. “That is the behavior of a madman.”
“No, I wasn’t mad. Just foxed.” Amusement danced in his blue eyes. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I plan to stay sober for a while . . . and even if I weren’t, I would be no danger to you.”
The word sweetheart, spoken in that low, intimate voice, did something strange to her insides. Caroline began to reprove him for his familiarity, then realized that was their entire purpose for being here—to create the impression that they were indeed sweethearts.
They entered the two-story great hall, which was lined with dark wood paneling and rich tapestries, and were welcomed by Mr. Scott’s wife, Madeline. The girl was absolutely lovely, her golden brown hair coiled atop her head, her hazel eyes sparkling as she greeted Andrew with youthful exuberance. It was clear that the two liked each other immensely.
“Lord Drake,” Madeline exclaimed, clasping his hands in her own small ones, her cheek turned upward to receive his brotherly kiss. “How well you look! It has been at least a month since we’ve seen you. I am terribly vexed with you for remaining away so long.”
Andrew smiled at his sister-in-law with a warmth that transformed his dark face, making Caroline’s breath catch. “How is my niece?” he asked.
“You won’t recognize her, I vow. She has grown at least two inches, and she has a tooth now!” Releasing his hands, Madeline turned toward Cade, Fanny, and Caroline, and curtsied gracefully. “Good morning, my lord, and Lady Hargreaves, and Miss Hargreaves.” Her vivacious gaze locked with Caroline’s. “My husband and I are delighted that you will be joining us this weekend. Any friends of Lord Drake’s are always welcome at our home.”
“You always despise my friends,” Andrew remarked dryly, and Madeline gave him a quick frown.
“Your usual ones, yes. But friends like these are definitely welcome.”
Caroline interceded then, smiling at Madeline. “Mrs. Scott, I promise we will do our best to distinguish ourselves from Lord Drake’s usual sort of companions.”
“Thank you,” came the girl’s fervent reply, and they shared a sudden laugh.
“Wait a minute,” Andrew said, only half in jest. “I didn’t plan for the two of you to become friendly with each other. You had better stay away from my sister-in-law, Miss Hargreaves—she’s an incurable gossip.”
“Yes,” Madeline confirmed, sending Caroline a conspiratorial smile. “And some of my best gossip is about Lord Drake. You’ll find it vastly entertaining.”
Fanny, who had been so in awe of their grandiose surroundings as to be rendered speechless, suddenly recovered her voice. “Mrs. Scott, we are so looking forward to meeting your esteemed husband. Such a celebrated man, so talented, so remarkable—”
A new voice entered the conversation, a voice so deep and distinctive that it could only belong to one man. “Madam, you do me too much honor, I assure you.”
Logan Scott had approached them from behind, as large and handsome as he appeared on the stage, his tall form impeccably dressed in gray trousers, a formfitting black coat, and a crisp white cravat tied in an elaborate knot.
Looking from Andrew to his half brother, Caroline could see a vague likeness between them. They were both tall, physically imposing men, with strong, even features. Their coloring was not the same, however. Andrew’s hair was as black as jet, whereas Logan Scott’s was fiery mahogany. And Andrew’s skin had a golden cast, as opposed to Scott’s ruddier hue.
Watching them stand together, Caroline reflected that the main difference between the two men was in their bearing. It was clear that Logan Scott was accustomed to the attention that his celebrity had earned—he was self-confident, a bit larger than life, his gestures relaxed and yet expansive. Andrew, however, was quieter, far more closed and private, his emotions ruthlessly buried deep below the surface.
“Brother,” Logan Scott murmured, as they exchanged a hearty handshake. It was clear that there was deep affection between the two.
Andrew introduced Scott to the Hargreaves family, and Caroline was amused to see that the presence of this living legend had reduced her mother to speechlessness once more. Scott’s penetrating gaze moved from one face to another, until he finally focused on Andrew. “Father is here,” he said.
The brothers exchanged a look that was difficult to interpret, and it was obvious that the two shared an understanding of the man that no one else in the world did.
“How is he?” Andrew asked.
“Better today. He didn’t need quite so much of his medicine during the night. At the moment he is conserving his strength for the ball tonight.” Scott paused before adding, “He wanted to see you as soon as you arrived. Shall I take you to his room?”
Andrew nodded. “No doubt I have committed a hundred offenses he’ll wish to upbraid me for. I should hate to deprive him of such entertainment.”
“Good,” Scott said sardonically. “Since I’ve already had to run through that particular gauntlet today, there is no reason that you should be spared.”
Turning to Caroline, Andrew murmured, “Will you excuse me, Miss Hargreaves?”
“Of course.” She found herself giving him a brief reassuring smile. “I hope it goes well, my lord.”
As their gazes met, she saw his eyes change, the hard opaqueness softening to warm blue. “Later, then,” he murmured, and bowed before leaving.
The intimacy of their shared gaze had caused warm flutters in the pit of her stomach, and a sensation of giddy lightness that floated all through her. Slightly bemused, Caroline reflected that Logan Scott was not the only man in the family with acting ability. Andrew was playing his part so convincingly that anyone would believe he had a real interest in her. She could almost believe it herself. Sternly she concentrated on the thought that it was all a pretense. Money, not courtship, was Andrew’s ultimate goal.
ANDREW AND LOGAN crossed through the marble hall, its plasterwork ceiling embellished with mythological scenes and a mask-and-ribbon motif. Approaching the grand staircase, which curved in a huge gentle spiral, the brothers made their way upward at a leisurely pace.
“Your Miss Hargreaves seems a charming girl,” Logan remarked.
Andrew smiled sardonically. “She is not my Miss Hargreaves.”
“She’s a pretty sort,” Logan said. “Delicate in appearance, but she seems to possess a certain liveliness of spirit.”
“Spirit,” Andrew repeated wryly. “Yes . . . she has plenty of that.”
“Interesting.”
“What is interesting?” Andrew asked warily, disliking his half brother’s speculative tone.
“To my knowledge, you’ve never courted a lady before.”
“It’s not a real courtship,” Andrew informed him. “It’s merely a ruse to fool Father.”
“What?” Logan stopped on the stairs and stared at him in surprise. “Would you care to explain, Andrew?”
“As you know, I’ve been cut out of the will. To be reinstated I’ve got to convince Father that I’ve changed my wicked ways, or he’ll die without leaving me a damned shilling.” Andrew proceeded to explain his bargain with Caroline, and the terms they had struck.
Logan listened intently, finally giving a gruff laugh. “Well, if you wish to change Father’s mind about his will, I suppose your involvement with a woman like Miss Hargreaves is a good idea.”
“It’s not an ‘involvement,’” Andrew said, feeling unaccountably defensive. “As I told you, it’s merely a charade.”
Logan slid a speculative glance his way. “I have a suspicion, Andrew, that your relationship with Miss Hargreaves is something more than a charade, whether you are willing to admit it or not.”
“It’s all for Father’s benefit,” Andrew said swiftly. “I am telling you, Scott, I have no designs on her. And even if I did, believe me, I would be the last man on earth whom she would take an interest in.”