“It isn’t what we say or think that defines us, but what we do.”

Lord Christopher Roker slapped his twin brother, the Earl of Sunderland, on the back. “A fit of the blue devils on your wedding day, eh? Come now, the bride seems a prime article to me.”

“She’s not the woman of my choice. I’m more than an unwilling groom. I’m downright defiant.” Carson tucked his white linen tails into the pale gray pantaloons, gave his matching waistcoat a tug, and adjusted his neckcloth again. “Yet our parents are deliriously happy over the match because she is the daughter of a marquess.”

“You made your own name.” Christopher shook his head and gave his brother’s shoulder a hard squeeze. “Gambling and womanizing has its place when you’re more boy than man. By Christ, we’ve passed thirty.”

“How did I know I’d fall in love and my reputation would haunt me?” Carson walked over to a polished oak side table and poured two glasses of brandy from the crystal decanter. He handed one to Christopher. “Or that the woman who stole my heart would have a self-righteous father who despises me?”

“How many times did I warn you to pull back on the reins? There are always consequences to one’s actions. You will be the Marquess of Falsbury in your own right someday. It’s time you accepted responsibility.” He took a sip of the amber liquid as Carson downed his in one gulp and poured another. “It’s a bit early for that, isn’t it? You might want to pace yourself.”

Sunderland sank heavily into a chair, pushing his fingers through a tangle of black waves. “Kit, trade places with me. Marry the chit and take the title. You should have been the heir anyway. You’re better suited to this type of life than I am.”

“We had this conversation when we were twelve, and you wanted to be a sheik and live in the desert. And then again at sixteen, when you wanted to run away and join the Royal Navy.” He smirked and sat down opposite Carson. “Besides, Mother would know at once.”

“She’d stay quiet for her darling Christopher. You’ve always been her favorite.” He tipped back his head and gulped the second glass of brandy. “A little courage for the ceremony.”

“There will be plenty of time for that afterwards.”

“I’ve missed you, brother. I’m jealous of the army and your long absences.” He gave Kit a crooked grin. “It’s always been you and me against the world. I don’t like having my other half missing.”

“Well, I’m here now! Bonaparte is no longer a threat, and we can enjoy a summer in the country this year.” A knot tightened in Kit’s stomach. He had a bad feeling about this wedding but knew better than to admit it. It wasn’t the match itself. Lady Eliza was a beauty and came with a generous dowry. And he didn’t believe for a moment Carson loved another woman. Infatuation was more likely. He fell for one chit, and before he hit the ground, another had taken his fancy. While Kit loved his brother, he also accepted his faults. His abilities did not include accountability or dependability.

“You’re dipping too deep, brother,” Kit said as he took the third glass of liquor from his twin, recognizing the slight glaze in those familiar chestnut eyes. “Let’s get you to the church, shall we? At this rate, you’ll be foxed before the end of the wedding breakfast.”

“That’s the plan, sir. I won’t feel those leg shackles I’ve acquired.”

* * *

“Marrying the Earl of Sunderland, I will have to think of you as a countess from now on.” Grace finished arranging her cousin’s lush hair. The delicate braids were swept up along with the thick flaxen locks and interspersed with tiny sprigs of lilac. The pale purple matched the bride’s violet eyes and smelled divine.

The wedding dress was of white French muslin, tiny embroidered flowers along the bodice and hem. A pelisse of lavender, trimmed with lace and matching flowers, buttoned just below her bust and amply filled the dress. She had always been jealous of her cousin’s porcelain skin and honey hair. Grace had inherited her mother’s Scottish looks with a smattering of freckles and the dreaded auburn hair to match.

Eliza smoothed out her skirts again and looked anxiously at her reflection. “He hates me, you know.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Grace, though her nerves had been frayed since meeting the earl two days ago. Something about the earl made her uneasy. “He barely knows you.”

“Well, at the very least he hates marriage.” Tears filled the girl’s eyes. “Thank you for coming, dear Gracie. I have no brothers or sisters, and Mama is practically useless. She is always so afraid to set Father off. I needed someone I could confide in before the ceremony.”

Grace bent low and put her cheek next to her cousin’s, her own green eyes locking with Eliza’s. They were opposites in so many ways. Grace was headstrong, independent, and outspoken; Eliza was docile, compliant, and breathtakingly beautiful. They were first cousins by their mothers and best friends by choice.

Lady Boldon had never hidden her dislike of her sister’s husband. A ruthless scoundrel, that man. He treats women as if they were no better than broodmares. And the marquess never hesitated to beat them in the same manner. The law was on the man’s side, especially a titled man, unless he went too far and murdered his wife or daughter. He was a bitter man who had suffered through the loss of several infant boys and his wife’s many miscarriages.

“Not all men are cruel, Eliza. Lord Sunderland may not be in love with you, but I see kindness in his eyes. And he’s very handsome. If nothing else, consider him a way out of your horrid circumstances.”

“Yes, I will keep that in mind.” She smiled at her cousin’s reflection. “At least I have no bruises to explain on my wedding day.”

“I did not come to your wedding for a bout of the megrims. Let me share in your joy today.” Grace kissed the bride’s cheek and stood up. She pulled back the curtain and looked out the window. “The carriage has arrived. Your parents will be waiting. Are you ready to begin your new life?”

Eliza nodded and turned to embrace her. “You are my dearest friend in all the world. I wish you lived closer.”

“Perhaps I could return for a longer stay. Samuel just turned four and may need some distraction this summer. That boy is a constant battle.” Grace laughed. “He snuck a pony from the pasture last week and hooked it up to a wagon. Off to battle General Bonaparte with a wooden sword and his trusty hounds.”

“If you promise to visit, I’ll find plenty of ruffians for him to battle. And you are right. This is my wedding day, and I should enjoy myself.” They looped arms, took a deep breath, and descended the staircase with heads held high.

* * *

The ceremony was short and somber, and the small party returned to Falsbury as soon as the registry was signed. A larger group had been invited for the wedding breakfast. Falsbury was a regal mansion, and the meal indicated the family’s stature. The wedding cake was displayed at the center of the table; the stiff white frosting decorated with herbs and flowers. Ham, accompanied by eggs, hot rolls, and toasted breads, filled the air with mouthwatering aromas. Even chocolate had been added to each table.

The groom seemed a bit too jovial for so early in the day. Lord Sunderland drank and toasted a dozen times throughout the wedding feast. An air of self-destruction seemed to hover over him like a storm cloud, and Grace shivered as he pulled Eliza to her feet and kissed her soundly on the mouth. Still, she saw nothing malicious in the man’s behavior and considered her cousin better off.

On the other hand, Grace found Lord Christopher to be quite the study of decorum. His deep brown eyes were serious, his black hair combed back neatly. Lieutenant Colonel Roker cut a fine figure in his red military dress uniform. She found herself picturing him on a charging horse, sword in the air, and a battle cry on his lips. His full, soft lips.

“What has claimed your attention, my dear?” her father asked in her ear. “Did some handsome lad catch your eye?”

She giggled then gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You aren’t getting rid of me so easily, Papa. Are you enjoying the celebration?”

“Aye, it’s a fine wedding. It’s giving me ideas for other weddings yet to come.” He nudged her gently with his elbow, his mouth set in a firm line. “It’s time we started thinking about your future. I’ve been deficient in my duties. Your mother would be mortified to know I’ve kept you hidden in the country, and you almost twenty.”

“I have not been hidden. It was my choice to skip the London Season.”

“Two seasons, Gracie.”

“My home is far more important than socializing with those shallow, silly girls.” The thought of standing against a wall, hoping a man would fill her card and not step on her feet during a cotillion, seemed more like a punishment. Making inane conversation while remembering dance steps and drinking punch fetched by a bored or overeager suitor was also not a rite of passage that appealed to her. “I’m quite content with my station, Papa. There is no reason to upset our lives over marriage or romance.”

Lord Boldon rolled his light brown eyes. “We’ll see, daughter. There may come a time you will eat those fine words.” Then he smiled over her head at someone. “Isn’t it a grand day for a wedding? Is that music I hear?”

“Indeed, Lord Boldon. I came to ask Lady Grace for the honor of a dance,” came a deep baritone that sent a warm flush through her belly. “With your permission?”

Her father stood, grasped her hand, and pulled Grace to her feet as she opened her mouth to decline. “My daughter would love to dance.”

She looked at her fingers now placed in the man’s palm. The heat in her belly began to pirouette and leap up toward her throat. When her eyes moved to his face, the dark gaze pinned her to the spot. The air was pushed from her lungs, and she found herself unable to speak. A chuckle from her father spurred her to action. With a curtsey, she acknowledged her partner, and they walked to join the others already gathering to the first notes of a country dance.

Grace focused on the gold epaulettes adorning his broad shoulders, as she placed a gloved hand on his wrist. The material did little to diminish the intensity of his touch as they followed the other couples in a circle.

“I understand you are a cousin to the bride. Are you pleased with the match?” His tone was conversational but she sensed there was purpose to his question. The group of four came together and separated.

“They make a lovely couple and both families are pleased. Does our opinion matter, my lord?” She risked a peek at her very masculine dance partner as he moved around her. On close inspection, she realized the brothers were not identical as they first appeared. True, their features were the same but their countenances were utterly different. No light-hearted, fanciful expression would ever grace this man’s face. She doubted such a proud military officer would overindulge in anything let alone lose his temper. Control emanated from him.

“No, I suppose not, but it was my lame attempt at conversation with the second loveliest woman at the wedding celebration.”

It took a moment for his words to reach her brain as they turned and joined a new set of dancers. They separated again and when she returned to him, he was smiling. Her breath quickened as he spun her around. “You tease me, sir. It is not gallant of you.”

“I do not tease, Lady Grace. It is not in my nature.” He opened his mouth as if to expand on his nature then stopped. Another twirl and he began again, the smile gone. “Are you enjoying your stay?”

“I did not come for pleasure. That is, I only came to give my support—er, assist my cousin with the wedding. She has no siblings, as you know”—the women moved around the men and came back to their partners—“and she wanted someone close to her own age during the preparations.” The couples came together and back out.

“Will you be staying in London long?”

“No, my mother died several years ago, and I am needed on my father’s estate. My brother is only four and…”

They split and each moved around the opposite couple. When they were side by side, he picked up where they had left off. “You miss him.”

Grace nodded as he twirled her again, surprised at his understanding. “I have never left him before. Never spent a night away from him. I suppose it is how a mother feels the first time she leaves her children.”

He twirled her and bent close. “Do you enjoy your role as Lady Boldon?”

His curiosity made her smile and put her at ease. “Yes, I prefer to stay busy and productive.” She circled around him. “There is plenty to do on the Boldon estates.”

“A woman stimulated by knowledge. Lovely and clever, a rare combination.” He stepped gracefully around her and the other woman of the square.

“And are you enjoying your reprieve from the war, now that Bonaparte is exiled in Elba?” Grace had heard of the lieutenant colonel’s fearless reputation on the battlefield. “Do you miss the excitement?”

“No, combat is not a pleasant pastime for me. I miss the regiment and my men, though.” He turned her around, and they progressed again to the next group.

“So you will return to your duties?”

“As soon as possible. It is my preferred career choice. I appreciate the organization and logic of the military. We are of a like mind.” He chuckled as the couples came together. “London and its society bore me. I also like to be productive.”

“We have something in common.”

“I prefer a world with order, a protocol to follow. Perhaps I’m a skeptic who has seen too much of the world.” He stared at her with eyes the color of the chocolate her mother used to drink. They met and parted again. A slight smile still turned up his lips, and she felt bared, as if he was looking into her soul and liked what he saw.

“Perhaps you are also a rare combination of handsomeness and honesty.” Her wit had returned, and she found herself enjoying his company. The song came to an end, and he bowed.

“Lady Grace, may I be blunt?”

“Since we’ve come to know each other so well,” she answered with a smirk, studying him from beneath her lashes. He had piqued her interest. “Please, speak your mind.”

“My brother has his faults. He drinks too much, gambles but not too heavily, and never takes the blame for a catastrophe, large or small, regardless of his part in it. However, he does not have a spiteful bone in his body and will never, never cause injury to a lady.” He paused then continued with a slight nod of his head, “I thought you might like to know.”

The sun slanted through a window, the bright rays setting fire to his red uniform and making the gold bars across the front glitter. Her heart swelled as she took in his meaning. He knew. He knew about her uncle and wanted to offer some reassurance, some mode of comfort to Eliza on her wedding day. Tears pricked the back of her eyes, and she blinked quickly before meeting his gaze again.

“Thank you,” she whispered, hearing the hope in her voice. “I am very glad to know that.”

“May you have a safe and swift journey home. It has truly been a pleasure, Lady Grace.” He smiled down at her. A dazzling but sincere smile, showing perfect white teeth that made his tanned skin seem even darker. She shivered, not sure if it was from the heat that rippled over her skin or the improper thoughts that flooded her brain.

“Yes, indeed it has, my lord. May we meet again, someday.” And as Lieutenant Colonel Roker walked away, his powerful stride demanding notice, she hoped they would.