With that lighthearted shot, she exited the library, leaving Ash alone to contemplate what he had just agreed to.
He had to give his sister credit. Her proposal that the Wilde cousins imitate classic lovers in literature was her most novel invention to date. One argument of Katharine’s, however, had decisively captured his attention: It is up to us to shape our own destinies.
Admittedly, the power to shape his destiny held a strong appeal for Ash. After fate had dealt his family such a devastating blow, he’d felt driven to control his future and that of his clan.
He would never forget the moment he learned the terrible news: Seeing Uncle Cornelius’s face drain of blood at the letter of notification … reading the letter for himself. The shock and anguish as comprehension sank in. The days and weeks afterward when he’d railed impotently at life’s cruelties.
Ash’s overwhelming grief was underscored by panic at realizing that he’d inherited the title of marquis and so had to attempt to fill his father’s shoes.
Granted, he’d overreacted in the beginning. He was too harsh with the boys and overly protective of the girls. But as the eldest cousin, Ash was their leader, accountable for their welfare and their happiness. They had endured enough sorrow, and he’d vowed to spare them any more.
The five of them had vastly differing personalities and interests. His younger brother Jack, who’d been born the bastard son of a European prince, seemed a fun-loving rogue, yet there was a dark streak inside Jack stemming from his early childhood when he’d lived alone on the streets of Paris after Lady Clara’s death during the Revolution. Jack’s foreign upbringing had often left him feeling like an outsider, despite the fact that he’d been legally adopted by Ash’s and Katharine’s father.
Sweet, lovely Skye—the youngest and probably the heart of the family—somehow always managed to get her own way, effortlessly wrapping them all around any finger she chose. Despite her deceptively innocent demeanor, Skye possessed an innate curiosity that frequently led her into trouble. That, combined with her mischievous streak, had caused their Uncle Cornelius many a gray hair.
Quinn had inherited Cornelius’s intellectual brilliance, but he hid it under a lust for danger and adventure.
And fiery Katharine was the spirit of the Wilde family. As such, she claimed the role of social director in addition to being an unabashed romantic at heart … which had led to Ash’s current predicament.
Searching for his ideal mate with the goal of finding love was not his preferred method of shaping his destiny. No doubt his reluctance to form any deep attachments stemmed from losing so many loved ones when he was younger. His entire world had been shattered, and he wasn’t certain he wanted to risk that kind of pain again. Nor was he eager to upend his life by marrying. He had his family, and he’d never felt the need for more.
The five of them had closed ranks when they’d lost their beloved parents. In fact, their tragedy had brought them much closer together and made them fiercely loyal to one another. It was the Wilde cousins against the world.… And yet at the same time, they were resolved to fulfill the family legacy and carry on the legendary Wilde joie de vivre. They lived life to the fullest, since they knew how short their time on earth could be.
Even so, the questions his sister raised intrigued him. Could Maura Collyer be his ideal match? Ash wondered.
Undeniably, he was fascinated by her fire and passion. And he couldn’t help believing she would bring that same kind of passion to her lovemaking. He wanted Maura in his bed, without question. And there was no way to get her there short of marriage, since he was not that much of a rake to seduce her out of wedlock.
Either way, he had no choice but to involve himself in her trials and tribulations. Maura deserved his support, given her long history with Katharine and Skye. Besides, he was sympathetic to Maura’s cause and admired her courage in fighting against long odds. Undoubtedly he could improve her chance of winning her battle against a powerful nobleman like Deering.
Still, it was one thing to help Maura. It was quite another to be swept headlong into a situation that could lead to matrimony. Finding himself shackled in wedlock would hardly be controlling his own fate, Ash thought with an ironic smile.
His smile faded as he made up his mind. Standing, he crossed to the hearth and spent a moment banking the fire. If he wanted to get any sleep and yet rise early enough to meet with Maura before she left on her morning ride, he needed to retire now.
But he wouldn’t allow himself to be drawn into his sister’s absurd theory about playing Cinderella’s prince, Ash vowed. He would help Maura Collyer recover her cherished stallion and that would be the end of it.
Maura woke at her usual early hour the next morning, feeling groggy and bleary-eyed. She’d spent a mostly sleepless night tossing and turning and stewing over her course of action regarding her beloved horse.
After last evening’s disaster with the odious Lord Deering, she knew she had to regroup. More aggravatingly, when she’d finally managed to doze off, she couldn’t prevent herself from dreaming about a much more appealing nobleman. Even now, she found herself dwelling on the stunning kisses Lord Beaufort had given her, remembering the bewitching taste of him, the sensuality of his illicit caresses—
With a groan, Maura cut off the seditious memory and buried her face in her pillow, highly vexed with herself. Deciding she might as well rise, she climbed out of bed and performed her ablutions, then began donning her riding habit. A brisk ride before breakfast should help to clear her mind. And with luck, she might encounter Lord Deering. She had it on good authority that he rode Emperor in the park on some mornings, although her two previous efforts to intercept him there had failed.
She was attempting to button the back of her shirtwaist when her bedchamber was invaded by her two smiling stepsisters, no doubt eager to hear about the ball.
Hannah and Lucy were both garbed in frilly pink dressing gowns that unfortunately did nothing to flatter their somewhat plump figures. Both girls, Maura surmised, must have inherited their straight brown hair, brown eyes, and round features from their father, since their mother was a raven-haired, blue-eyed beauty. Indeed, Priscilla’s beguiling loveliness was the prime attraction that had lured Maura’s own father into matrimony.
The girls also lacked their mother’s refinement and social skills. Lucy, the youngest at seventeen, was a pert chatterbox, while the shier nineteen-year-old Hannah had a generous nature, which she promptly exhibited when she noted Maura’s struggle with the buttons.
“Here, let me help you,” Hannah offered kindly, while Lucy launched into a spate of questions.
“Was the ball very grand, Maura? How many guests attended? How many times did you dance? Did you waltz? What was Lady Katharine wearing? Was her gown as beautiful as your amber one?” Lucy paused her prattle to take a breath. “I vow that gown you wore last night was the most beautiful one I have ever seen in my whole life.”
Maura sighed inwardly. She had little desire to be dragged into evaluating last night’s fashions or her scarcity of dance partners. But her stepsisters were like puppies seeking affection, and she couldn’t turn them away.
They perched on her bed while she did her best to report on the details that would interest them. And when she had tied the laces of her half boots and slipped on her riding jacket, they followed her downstairs to the breakfast room, where a light repast awaited her, supplied by the cook who had worked faithfully in the Collyer household since Maura was a child, and who knew exactly how to tempt her appetite when she was so preoccupied with her precious horses that she would have forgotten to eat.
At least she needn’t worry about encountering her stepmother just now. Priscilla rarely rose before ten o’clock, especially after a late evening, which evidently had been the case last night. Thankfully, Pris had still been out when Maura arrived home from the ball, and so had avoided any more bitter rows regarding the cost of Seasons and unlawful sales of stallions.
At the conclusion of Maura’s recount of the ball, Lucy gave a dreamy sigh. “I should have loved to attend,” she confessed. “Mama was angry that you were invited and we were not, even if Lady Katharine is your bosom friend and we claim no acquaintance with her. And Mama was pea green with envy over that splendid gown you wore.”