To Pleasure a Duke (The Husband Hunters Club 3)

Terry had no intention of getting involved in the terrible twins’ antics. He flung himself down on his bed, and stared up at the ceiling. With Annabelle he had a chance to show what he was made of, to be the sort of man he’d always wanted to be.

“Jack,” he said. “If you were asked to help someone, someone you liked, someone who really needed your help, would you do it? Even if by helping them you might get yourself into lots of trouble?”

Jack thought about it while his brother waited. Although Jack was young, Terry had always thought him the cleverest of them all. “Yes,” he said, nodding. “I would.”

Terry smiled and lay down again. That settled it. He and Annabelle were going to Scotland . . . as soon as he sorted out how to get there.

Lizzie knew something was afoot. Annabelle made excuses and avoided her eyes, but she’d slipped away for an hour today and Lizzie was certain she’d had an assignation with Terry Belmont.

Sur

ely she wasn’t in love with him?

Annabelle, for all her spoiled and headstrong behavior, was at heart a girl who was very aware of what was in her own best interests. It pleased her to startle and upset her family by declaring all sorts of opinions that weren’t really hers, but beneath all that she was really quite conventional. Or so Lizzie had thought until now.

Lucius was a perfect match for her, and she must know it, despite her declarations that she would die of boredom once married to him. Terry Belmont was not in her sphere when it came to the important decisions of love and marriage. Why, thought Lizzie, he was far more suitable for someone like . . . like herself.

But of course he would never notice her, no one ever did. She was like a little vicarage mouse, invisible, while all eyes were full of Annabelle. Not that she was resentful—she’d long ago accepted her fate. She just wished that for once in her life a man she liked would see her.

Really see her.

Chapter 9

Wednesday was market day in the town of Torrisham, and Sir Peter had persuaded Eugenie to come with him and help with the sale of a horse he had been training up. “A fine lady’s mount,” he insisted, although Eugenie doubted any “lady” would be able to sit upon the beast for longer than a minute without being thrown into a hedgerow.

Usually it was Terry who went with their father to sell horses, but when it came time to leave he couldn’t be found. “Probably with his friends at the Five Bells,” Sir Peter muttered. “Never mind, Genie, you’ll bring in more customers than Terry could. Just give them one of your smiles, and let me do the talking.”

Eugenie wasn’t so sure Terry was at his favorite hostelry. He had been different lately, absent in his thoughts as well as in body, and she had her suspicions he was up to something. Although, whatever it was, he wasn’t telling her, and Eugenie had her own troubles to keep her occupied.

She hadn’t heard a word from her duke since his “abduction” of her. And although she’d told herself she wasn’t going to think of him again, she found herself replaying the scene over and over in her head. In hindsight she knew she should not have allowed matters to go so far, so quickly. Her only excuse was that she was enjoying herself too much to stop.

At least she’d prevented him from saying the fatal words. He hadn’t actually come out and said them to her face. Not yet, anyway. But Eugenie knew that it wouldn’t be long before he did. The duke seemed determined to have her—to own her, like one of his horses. It wasn’t as if he even knew her, not properly anyway, but he was evidently one of those men who made up his mind in an instant.

Eugenie could understand that. She’d done it herself when she’d seen a hat or a shawl she liked. But this was so much more intimate. Sinclair wanted to put her into some little cozy love nest he could visit, with Eugenie waiting patiently, perfectly dressed—or undressed—ready day or night in case he might pop around.

Eugenie knew she would never be able to bear such a hole-in-the-corner sort of existence. And what about when . . . if he grew tired of her and she was left with the truly awful choice of seeking another benefactor? She could not even imagine how one did that. Was there a special employment agency where discarded mistresses went? She tried to picture a line of women in doubtful dresses, their cheeks rouged, waving their handkerchiefs to attract the attentions of another line of gentlemen in need of new mistresses.

She shuddered.

No, far better to do as she’d decided in the lane as he rode away from her, and free herself of the whole mess and start again, this time with a proper plan.

But she would miss kissing him! Being with him was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her.

Her father, sitting beside her in the trap as they bowled along, the horse trotting behind them, gave her a quizzical look. “You’re glum today, Genie,” he said. “What’s up, girl? Was it the letter you received this morning? Not bad news?”

That was another thing. She’d had a letter from Averil asking how her husband hunting was going. I have been perusing The Times—the engagements section—but haven’t seen any news yet. Do tell me what is happening between you and the duke! It was possible Averil was teasing, but maybe she was not. Whenever Eugenie thought she was about to escape the foolish vows she’d made about the duke fate conspired to dig an even deeper hole for her. Now she would have to write back and explain it was all over and the duke had broken her heart.

No, Eugenie thought. She had broken his heart.

“Just thinking, Father.”

“Well, your thoughts don’t seem to be making you very happy, do they? What were you thinking?”

“I was considering my future.”

He chuckled. “Were you now? I’ll tell you something to cheer you up. If we sell the mare for a good price today I’ll buy you and your mother a new dress each. She’s still in low spirits over the twins’ shenanigans with the black dye and a new dress always cheers her up.” He beamed at her. “What do you say, Genie?”

Eugenie knew only too well that there were unpaid bills galore but here was her father wanting to buy new dresses for his womenfolk, to cheer them up. She should remind him of his responsibilities, but what was the point when he’d never listened to her before? It was not as if he was ever going to change.