

A BRIDE FOR CHRISTMAS

### Aileen Fish

A BRIDE FOR CHRISTMAS

Copyright © 2013 Aileen Fish

All rights reserved.

Published at Smashwords by Aileen Fish

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please go to http://aileenfish.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. With the exception of historical figures, any resemblance it bears to reality is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Excerpt

Other Books by Aileen Fish

About the Author
**Chapter One**

December 23, 1814

Nash Sinclair stood near the fire in the drawing room at Renford Abbey, the family seat, wondering if his siblings planned to colonize a new country with their numerous offspring. Nash's parents, the Earl of Renford and his countess, couldn't be happier with their prolific brood. His father sat in a manner very unbecoming a man of his standing, his legs crossed tailor-style while he bounced his second-youngest grandson in time with the nursery rhyme he sang. Little William giggled each time he soared above the carpet. Will's older brother pranced in place begging his turn next.

His brother's voice drew Nash from his thoughts. "If you stand much closer to the flames, your trousers will catch fire."

Nash realized his right leg was warm enough to cook an egg. He smiled and moved away from the hearth. "Hello, Geoff. Some days I don't think I'll ever chase away the chill."

Geoff snorted. "If you'd taken my offer of the carriage instead of insisting on riding that battle-scarred nag of yours, you would have been plenty warm."

His brother was right, of course, but then he usually was. "Caesar would pine away and refuse to eat if I left him behind for the entire month I'll be here." The old nag, as his brother called him, had survived many battles beneath Nash, and wasn't ready to be put to pasture any time soon. He didn't want to discuss it. "Clementina looks well. Should she be traveling so soon after producing your heir?"

"She refused to remain at home for the holiday and Wigstead just isn't big enough to host the entire family. The children were so eager to see Father and Mother."

Few homes were large enough for this brood. Nash chuckled. "You lot could take a year or three off from filling your nurseries and that might help alleviate the problem."

"Easily spoken for a man who has yet to choose a bride. You've sold your commission. What's stopping you from marrying?"

There was an excellent question. He'd attended a few assemblies at the end of the Season before retiring to his townhouse to rest for the summer. He'd no eye for the young ladies, no matter how pretty or how well dowered. Both his younger brothers were married, and one of his two younger sisters. Evie, his only unmarried sister, never set down a book long enough to speak more than three words to anyone, related or not, so there was little chance of some man noticing her. Nash no longer had the excuse of the cavalry to keep overbearing mamas—and older brothers—at bay. But he couldn't find it in him to be excited over choosing a wife.

In truth, he'd always assumed he'd be married before his thirty-fifth birthday, but that was just a few months away. Apparently, one had to actively participate in the selection process for the event to happen. Or, heaven forbid, step back and let one's mother make the choice for you. He shuddered at the prospect. "It is past time I set up my nursery. I haven't a clue which young ladies of our acquaintance haven't trapped their prey already. And I haven't been able to summon enough interest to inquire."

"Don't let Mother hear you say that. Nor Clemmie. They'll have you parade-marching in any number of parlors between now and the first ball next spring."

Before he could contemplate how embarrassing that would be, his twin nephews came running up. Everett skidded to a stop on the highly polished floor. "Uncle Nash, may we see your sword?"

"Yes, please," Frank echoed.

"You've seen it before. It hasn't changed these past months."

"How many frogs did you kill with it?"

"Yes, tell us about the war, Uncle Nash. Did you see Napoleon?"

"Boys," Geoff interrupted. "Your uncle would rather forget about the war than retell it every time he sees you. You're too young to hear such tales, besides. Go play with your cousins."

"All right, Uncle Geoff. But, Uncle Nash. We'll be ten in March. Will you tell us then?"

Laughing at their earnest expressions, Nash replied, "We'll see. I think Timmy and Gray are playing war. Why don't you join them, before your grandpapa decides it's time to return you to the nursery?"

Geoff moved away with the boys, and Nash took a turn about the room before gravitating closer to his newest nephew, Geoff's son. Clementina's sister Julianna sat near the fire with the swaddled babe in her arms, and the boy's mother close by. The faint shadows beneath Clementina's eyes were the only sign she might be more tired than normal after the recent birth of yet another child. Tearing her gaze away from her son, she smiled up at Nash.

He dipped his head in greeting. "It's good to see you looking so well, sister."

"I could say the same to you, Nash. Welcome home."

"Thank you." He let his gaze sweep the room. "Every time I return, there seems to be another handful of relations added to our family."

Clementina smiled knowingly. "Those would be the husbands and wives your brothers and cousins have chosen. Not everyone is as slow to find love as you appear to be."

Nash grimaced. "Did Geoff put you up to this? Or is this all my mother's doing? She has yet to bring up the subject, at least on this visit, but everyone else has taken her part."

His sister-in-law laughed. "Is it so surprising that those of us who are enjoying our married state should wish you the same happiness?"

He bowed his head slightly. "I doubt I could ever be as happy as you have made my brother."

Was that a blush sweeping across her cheeks? She glanced Geoff's way, then back at her sister who still cooed at the babe in her arms. Clementina motioned towards the pair. "You remember my sister, Lady Julianna? She's been caring for our mother's aunt these past two years, but I persuaded her to join us for Christmas."

At the mention of her name, Julianna lifted her eyes only briefly from the baby. Her golden hair was warmed even more by the firelight. "How are you, Mr. Sinclair?"

"I'm well, thank you. And is your aunt recovered enough for you to return to London in the spring with your mother and younger sister?"

She pursed her lips. "My aunt is quite well, thank you, but she enjoys my company. I shall be returning to her cottage after Twelfth Night."

He recalled his sisters discussing Lady Julianna the last time he was home. She must be four-and-twenty now. In some circles, she'd be considered on the shelf. And yet she preferred to stay with her aunt than attend balls and breakfasts, as one her age was expected to do. Was she waiting for a particular young swain to consent to the parson's noose, or perhaps pining over a man who had to marry elsewhere due to obligations?

But she was the daughter of an earl, and likely to have a handsome enough dowry to tempt most men who must think about those concerns when marrying. Nash studied her profile, so like that of Clementina. Her nose was slightly upturned, her chin strong without protruding. He remembered her eyes as always full of laughter. While perhaps not quite a Diamond of the first water during her debut Season, she could have easily been considered an Incomparable.

The more he thought on it, the more perplexed he became. Why had Lady Julianna not married? "Can't your aunt be convinced to visit London with you for even a short time? My mother looks forward to it every year. I believe she hopes to arrange matches for my youngest sister next Season."

That drew Lady Julianna's interest. "But Evie is merely eighteen. Surely your mother doesn't expect her to marry so soon."

He shrugged. "If not marry, at least settle on a proposal. What reason is there for a young lady to wait to marry?"

"Why, she hardly knows herself by that age. She hasn't experienced any flirtations, or had to salvage her reputation from an intrigue. She knows nothing of life at such a young age."

Nash peered at Clementina for a reaction, but the elder sister kept her ethereal maternal glow, leading him to wonder if she had indulged in any intrigues before accepting his brother's troth. The more he thought about the balls he'd attended over the years, he was certain he'd never noticed eligible young ladies slipping away for assignations or whatever else constituted an intrigue to a lady of four-and-twenty years. A few desperate misses, perhaps, and more than one who hoped to trap a titled husband, but not those such as his sisters.

Of course, he'd spent most of his time in the card room or dancing with a widow or two, to avoid drawing the attention of any marriage-minded mamas. A second son of an earl, without a title of his own, was still an eligible match to many families. His strategy, along with being away on the battlefield most of the time, had worked. The idea his Evie might be contemplating even a hint of scandal awakened an ugly beast inside him. "My sisters do not need frivolous flirtations to know what to look for in a husband. They have their father and brothers as excellent examples of men who are happily married. Do you think your sister married too young? She was just twenty."

Lady Julianna sat up straighter, giving Nash her full attention. "Clemmie isn't like most young ladies. She's always known what she wanted." She turned her attention to the tiny bundle in her arms, but Nash couldn't determine her thoughts.

"For my brother's sake, I am glad she did. I can't believe he could have found a better wife."

Clementina smiled, then spoke in her practiced, elegant voice. "Nor I, a better husband, had I waited another ten years to make my choice. But Julianna has a strong mind. She has never shared the dreams you imagine most young ladies do."

Intriguing. Using their common relations to imply a close level of acquaintance, he asked, "What dreams fill your thoughts, Lady Julianna?"

She wrinkled her nose at her sister, then closed her eyes and took a breath. Little Edward took that moment to squirm and whimper, and his aunt quickly handed him to his mother.

Clementina cuddled him close as she rose. "If you'll excuse me, I believe my son has had enough of the revelry."

Nash bowed, and when he saw his brother coming to Clementina's side, he decided to sit instead of seeing her to the door. Afraid he might lose the calm company of Lady Julianna, he repeated his question. "I am truly curious to know what you dream of, if not marriage. My sisters, except for Evie, can talk of nothing but beaus and prospects. Yet you do not seem the bluestocking type."

She raised an eyebrow. "And what type is that? Plain? Intelligent? Dull?"

He bit his tongue, wishing he'd chosen a different word. "I misspoke. You know you are none of those things. I won't try and insult you with flummery."

The scar on his temple throbbed and he rubbed it briefly. He leaned back into the chair, suddenly feeling twice his years. He stared into the bright orange glow of the fire. "I've been too long riding with my regiment and have forgotten how to flatter a fair maiden."

Lady Julianna snorted in a most unmaidenly fashion. "I thought you were not going to insult me, Mr. Sinclair. There is no need to continue our conversation now that Clemmie is gone. She will inform your brother you did the pretty and made me feel welcome. But you don't need to pretend to be interested in my thoughts."

"I was quite earnest in asking. I have spoken of nothing but the weather and the war for longer than I care to think. Please humor me with your thoughts. I promise I won't belittle them, nor share them beyond these walls."

She studied him as if she could know the true contents of his heart by reading his face. Her gaze lingered on his scar and he fought the urge to turn his head. At last, she gave a small smile. "I wish to travel and write books about the places I see."

He waited, but she didn't appear inclined to elaborate. "I can see where your parents might not think that a suitable life for their daughter."

"Were I a son I'd still be expected to marry after a year or two abroad."

"Does your aunt enjoy travel? Perhaps she would accompany you. Who knows, one might fall in love on such a journey."

She snorted again in laughter, and he was becoming quite fond of the sound. No pretentious little twitter for her. "I don't believe I'm likely to fall in love anywhere."
**Chapter Two**

In the thin light of Christmas Eve morning, Lady Julianna huddled on a pile of rocks at the edge of the pond at Renford. The air was brisk, the rock even colder beneath her, but the silence was what she sought. In the nursery of the manor house, her sister's nieces and nephews were likely stirring, with the older children already plotting the day's mischief. She'd avoided the morning room in case Lady Renford was there with her lists. "Gather greens. Decorate the drawing room. Take baskets to the vicar."

The other young ladies could easily dispense with the lists. Father had mentioned shooting as the men's entertainment for the day. She'd considered slipping into the library and reading the newspaper, even if it was days old. But either Mama or Lady Renford might discover her there.

She simply was not of a mind to be festive this year.

She sat on the largest rock, her back to the trail, and swirled a long, thin stick in the water below her feet. Her hair fell in loose waves down her back, and her pelisse was unbuttoned in spite of the chilly breeze. She needed the unrestricted air about her this morning. In fact, she had the most undignified urge to run screaming down a hillside and roll in the long grass, if any remained after the snowfall several weeks ago.

The melancholy that had awakened in her at the birth of her nephew Edward had worsened last night, thanks to Mr. Sinclair. His questions were no different from those asked by her mother and many of her friends. But coming from him, the queries made her dreams seem so frivolous. And she didn't want anyone to see her that way.

While the scar on his face had faded to a pale pink stripe that disappeared into his thick black hair, it shouted at her like a headline. _Selfless_ _Warrior_. The man had done something completely unselfish with his life by joining the cavalry and defending his country. Now that he'd come home, he wasn't using his uniform and battle stories to draw attention at assemblies. From what Clemmie told her, he avoided the large gatherings almost as much as Julianna did.

Two years ago when Aunt Phillips had asked Julianna to become her companion, she promised to leave her money and home to Julianna on her death. Aunt Phillips no longer enjoyed travel beyond her annual trip to Brighton, but she had traveled quite extensively as a young lady. She encouraged Julianna's desire to visit new places and write about them. A spinster herself, the older woman did nothing to dissuade her niece's preference to remain unmarried.

Moving in with Aunt Phillips had seemed the ideal situation for Julianna, regardless of the possibility that her aunt was likely to live many more years. It was ideal, that is, until the Honorable Edward Milton Dowsett Sinclair was born. Julianna and her mother had been in attendance, of course, as they had for the births of Clemmie's daughters. But when Julianna held the young heir for the first time, a hammer and chisel struck the wall around her heart and it shattered.

There in her arms was why people fell in love. Why people married. That tiny life, still red and squinting in the candlelight, was the reason all battles were fought and kingdoms overthrown.

In the six weeks since his birth, Julianna was unable to rid herself of a niggling notion she should be doing her part in the continuation of the family, of society. Though she couldn't fight battles nor pass along a title or a family name, by marrying she could enable a man to do so. How selfish was she to think only of herself?

Julianna drew in a deep breath. She must still be tired from the long carriage ride from Lyminster, or perhaps she was becoming ill. Spells of melancholia were not her manner. She never had a need for them, her life being richer than she could ask for, even if the pleasures were as simple as walks to the lending library and playing cards with her aunt's circle of friends.

"Good morning, my lady."

The voice from behind made her jump, her arms flaying as she wavered on the rock. She twisted to see who approached. "Oh, Mr. Sinclair. I didn't hear you coming up the path."

Motioning with the reins of the horse he stood beside, he laughed. "You must have been deep in thought to not hear Caesar's hooves."

"I suppose I was. It's so peaceful out here. It's easy to let one's thoughts wander."

"That is exactly why I came. To escape the noise of the household." Mr. Sinclair stood near the rock pile and his horse nibbled the grass at their feet.

"You do have _so_ many brothers and sisters."

"And every one of their children is boisterous and loud, n'est ce pas?"

She had to agree. There were no sickly or mousy members of the Renford clan, excepting the youngest sister. "How does Evie manage to read among them?"

"I sometimes wonder if the book is just a prop to avoid joining a card game or other pursuit. No one knows how many pages she actually reads."

Julianna laughed and turned back to the pond, drawing her stick through the water. Immediately her thoughts returned to her dilemma. Perhaps she didn't have the attributes necessary to be a good mother like Clemmie. Could it be her dreams of spinsterhood had good cause?

"Am I disturbing your solitude?"

She glanced at him. He appeared to await instruction, and yet it was his family's pond, not hers. "I'm the visitor here. You mustn't feel put out. I'll go back to the house and leave you to your privacy."

As she moved to step down from the rocks, he blocked her path. "No, don't go. At least, not on my account. I would enjoy some quiet company."

Smiling, she took a moment to study his features. His chestnut hair fell in long waves over his collar. He was more handsome than his brother, but he smiled less, which gave Geoff the advantage. Mr. Sinclair had the dark hazel eyes his family was known for, and the strong jaw. The lines on his face made him appear older than four-and-thirty years. How many of those years were spent in battle? The extremes of weather alone would age a man too soon. She shuddered to think of all he'd seen.

Realizing she had stared at him for far too long without responding, she said, "Shall we walk, then?"

He motioned to the path around the pond and fell in beside her, with his horse following. "In the spring and summer you will find all sorts of animals coming to the pond to drink. The woods are full of deer, and I'm sure Father hasn't hunted his last fox on the grounds."

"Your childhood must have been quite rich, growing up in a place like this. So many wild animals and interesting places to explore."

"Your father's estate isn't the same?" he asked.

"The house is quite grand, but the grounds are not as extensive. There are no woods, and the only water is on the other side of the village."

They continued to compare their early lives, most of the stories being Mr. Sinclair's, which kept her laughing. By the time she realized how long they'd been strolling around the pond, the sun was high in the sky and her stomach rumbled with hunger. She pressed a hand to her middle in embarrassment.

"Forgive me," Mr. Sinclair said with a twinkle in his eye. "I have rambled so long you are growing faint with hunger."

"Don't be silly. I skip breakfast many mornings with no threat of withering away." Still, she did wish to eat soon. "But perhaps we should return to the manor. My mother has likely missed me by now."

"Hmmm. I highly doubt anyone has noticed I'm not there. I'm not sure if that's a blessing or a curse, but it is common in large families, I understand." He steered them in the direction of the path through the woods.

"Do you plan to have a large family one day?" As soon as the words left her mouth, Julianna bit the inside of her cheek. What had made her ask such a question? Now he would think she had marriage on her mind. Nothing could be further from the truth, she told herself. And almost believed it.

"I never thought much about it. I suppose it was understood I would marry, and until Edward was born there was a chance providing the heir could fall to me. However, I confess that while on the Continent I had very little time for such thoughts."

For a short distance they walked in silence. Again, the war rose up to remind her how bacon-brained she was to plan her future as a spinster by choice. She'd turned down two offers of marriage before her aunt had spoken to her about becoming her companion. Both men had decent livings and promised comfortable lives. But was it fair to marry where her heart was not involved? Would she love her own children without blaming them for keeping her at home? And her husband...would she grow jealous of his freedom to come and go as he pleased?

"And what of you, Lady Julianna? Have we Sinclairs shown you the blessings to be found in a large household?"

She feigned a smile. "As I said last night, I don't intend to marry."

"So you said. I've never met a young woman so determined to avoid the parson's mousetrap."

A large animal came bounding through the brush and Julianna instantly stepped closer to Mr. Sinclair. A loud bark gave away the beast's identity just before he broke through the trees. Mr. Sinclair called to him. "St. George! I left without you this morning, old boy. Will you forgive me?"

The giant black and white dog lurched up and planted his forepaws on his master's shoulders, his slavering tongue bathing Mr. Sinclair's face. Oddly enough, the man laughed. "I take that as a yes." With both hands, he pushed the dog's head away. St. George dropped his paws to the ground and stood with his tail wagging.

"I've never seen such a large dog. He must weigh more than you do."

"He's from Newfoundland. A man convinced father this dog was related to Boatswain, Lord Byron's beloved dog. I have my doubts, but he is by far the best dog we've had. The children think of him as another playmate, or a piece of furniture."

The dog looked up at her as if deciding whether to lick her face or not. She raised her hands to ward him off. "You mustn't dare jump on me, St. George. I fear I wouldn't survive it."

"Well, if he hurts you, he can carry you back to the house."

"I'd be much more comfortable on Caesar, given the choice." She ran her fingers over the horse's velvet muzzle and earned a nicker in return. Then the horse's ears pricked and he called out to whatever he heard in the distance.

"Someone must have followed St. George," Mr. Sinclair said.

His brother trotted up the path on a sleek black horse, his face showing his surprise. "Well, good morning to you, Julianna. Nash."

"Good morning, Geoff. We were just on our way back." Julianna caught a questioning tilt of his head directed at his brother. She knew immediately what he assumed. Surely Geoff knew her well enough to not suspect any threat of an attachment forming between his brother and her.

Mr. Sinclair explained their outing. "I found Lady Julianna by the pond and confess to boring her well beyond what a guest should be expected to endure. I've been trying to think of a way to make it up to her."

Geoff raised a brow. "Have you? And what have you devised?"

Mr. Sinclair turned to search her face. "The lady is difficult to discern. With our sisters, an offer of a pretty ribbon or favored sweet should suffice. But I fear your sister-in-law is not so easily diverted."

When both men continued to study her, even in jest, her cheeks grew warm. She didn't enjoy being the focus of anyone's attention. Why couldn't they leave her be? Clemmie had warned her about the brothers' teasing way, but she'd assumed they directed it towards the children.

Geoff nodded at his brother's comment, but his eyes narrowed. "Quite so. And were I discussing this with, say, Millingham or Bradford, I might feel inclined to offer a suggestion. Given it is you, brother, who seeks her good opinion, I find I must ask why it is so important to you."
**Chapter Three**

Questions about Lady Julianna danced about Nash's head throughout the afternoon, first while he evaded his mother's quest to reacquaint him with the vicar's two daughters, Miss Gilly and Miss Milly Collingwood. The glimpse he had of them as he tiptoed past the drawing room told him both young ladies were even rounder than when he'd seen them two years past. Miss Milly's shrill giggle echoed through the open doorway and bounced off the walls, chasing Nash as he hurried his pace towards the back stairs.

Nash instructed the butler, Rhimes, he would not be joining the others at cards, and if asked, to say he'd not been seen since morning. He then retreated into his bedchamber. Doing so was an unwise choice. With nothing to read, and owing no one a letter, he paced the floor. Of course, he again found himself reflecting on Lady Julianna.

Leaning on the window frame, he stared at the barren rear lawn and leafless trees. Try as he might, he couldn't quiet the notion his life was in just such a state. He wasn't given to poetics, yet the coming days, perhaps years, would dawn bleak and grey if he didn't do something. Go into business. Become steward over one of his father's properties. Marry. Anything.

He continued to ponder on it during dinner, which was rather light fare given they were all to attend the Christmas Eve ball at the assembly rooms that evening and would be eating again there. Clementina, sitting on his left, mentioned the visit by the vicar's daughters.

"I believe they called here to determine if you would be in attendance this evening," she said.

He bit back a groan. "And what did Mother tell them?"

Clementina licked her lips and smiled. "Your mother was quite certain you would be fully rested from your travels and ready to dance the night through."

The bite of fish in his mouth grew very dry. He choked it down and took several swallows of his wine before he could speak. He cleared his throat. "How delightful. I must remember to thank Mother for ensuring my entertainment."

"You're her only unmarried son, Nash. It's not quite the same as the joy she gets matchmaking for her daughters, but you must understand she'll feel her life is incomplete until you take a wife."

Allowing his gaze to circle the happily married young people around the table, he couldn't prevent himself from stopping on the one other person who'd remained single well past the expected age. Lady Julianna sat between her father and one of Nash's brothers-in-law, and was deep in conversation with those seated nearby. Her deep green gown made her skin look like fragile porcelain.

Clementina must have noticed where his attention lay. "You are determined to make the step difficult, are you?"

"What?" He turned his head to look at Clementina. "How is that?"

"If you are hoping to capture her heart, you'll have a rough time of it."

He considered her words. "Do her affections lie elsewhere?"

"She has intentionally avoided allowing herself to hold any affection towards any man." Clementina leaned closer and kept her voice low. "I cannot explain it. I'm certain she never had her heart broken. I can think of no reason for her to feel this way, and she refuses to speak about it."

They stopped conversing while the next course was served. Nash ate several spoonfuls of the delicious celery ragout while waiting for her to continue. He didn't want to appear too eager to learn more of her sister's character. Clementina had broached the subject, giving him the opening, but discretion would still be wise. He wasn't even certain why he needed to know everything about Lady Julianna, so he didn't want to draw attention to his curiosity.

"If you wish it, you may visit us in the spring and I will introduce you to some of my friends. We'll throw a house party, so it won't be matchmaking. Geoff can invite a few of the single young men he knows to round out the numbers. I've been longing to see several of my particular friends. It will be perfect."

Perfectly dreadful, in his opinion. While a house party wasn't as painful as spending an evening with a new acquaintance who hoped for an attachment, the accumulation of endless brief moments of awkwardness was equally uncomfortable. He smiled in spite of his consternation. "I should hate to put you to any trouble."

"It's no trouble. What else is a sister for, but to introduce her brother to his future wife."

She meant well, but he could picture her beside his mother as they mapped out their strategy. Even the Wellington would quake in his hessians when faced with such a foe. Was there any chance Nash might meet someone at the assembly rooms that very evening and declare himself passionately in love, thus putting an end to the madness?

Having grown up at Renford Abbey, he knew the answer to that question. He also knew all the young ladies, married and not, likely to attend the dance. None were remarkable enough to tempt him into making any poetic declarations. Still, when he followed his family inside the large inn, the festivity of the night promised an enjoyable time, if nothing more.

He reminded himself many marriages were built on less than a passionate love. But he wanted more. If he had to spend the rest of his life with a woman, he damned well wanted to care about her. His parents' love was the backbone of his family. He expected the same from his own marriage.

Geoff and Father immediately made their way to the card tables, but Nash remained with the rest of their party. A cotillion was already in progress at one end of the crowded room. His sister Marianne and Clementina squeezed through the press of townspeople to sit with some of Marianne's friends. Mother and Lady Carrington found the wife of the local solicitor as well as Mrs. Collingwood, the vicar's wife. Their cackled greetings reminded Nash of the henhouse early in the morning. With a roll of his eyes, he continued onwards.

Evie dragged Lady Julianna to meet some of the younger ladies who were not dancing this set. Nash followed. Perhaps some of Evie's friends would be more desirable now they were ready to make their come-out. More genteel, circumspect.

He should have known better. Their cackles rang out equally loud, if higher in pitch than his mother and her friends. He attempted to make his escape before they noticed him, only to be stopped by a hand on his arm.

"Mr. Sinclair?"

Relief washed through him when he recognized the sweetest of voices. He smiled and turned back, bowing his head slightly. "Lady Julianna."

"Am I keeping you from joining your friends?"

"No. Quite the opposite. I'd thought to speak to Evie, but don't wish to intrude," he hastily explained. He placed Julianna's hand on his sleeve and moved away from his sister. "Are you dancing this evening?"

"Clemmie says I should."

"But you don't wish to? I assure you the local young men would be delighted to have a new partner for a change."

"Yes, but everyone reads too much into a dance. One cannot simply enjoy the music and steps. One must speak at the proper times, and only on the proper subjects, while managing to appear witty and gay. With all the rules to observe there is no room for enjoyment."

He laughed. "I thought you weren't worried about what others say."

She offered him a tremulous smile.

Couples gathered in the center of the floor as the trio of musicians prepared to play the next piece. Nash pushed through the bystanders, taking Lady Julianna with him. "Well, then, you shall dance with me and not worry about any rules."

Before she could argue, the music began and they moved in step with the others. Nash refrained from making casual comments, instead just watching her enjoy herself. The small curls framing her porcelain face bounced with each light step and her cheeks glowed a lovely shade of pink. By the end of the second set they were both laughing and breathing hard.

Nash led her to the refreshments and handed her a small cup of lemonade. "I hope you'll give me the honor of a second dance later in the evening. Although I'm certain I'll have to fight my way through your admirers."

Her bubbling laugh delighted him. She took a sip of her drink, and her fine violet eyes were still laughing when she spoke. "With all the young ladies present, I'm not likely to draw anyone's attentions."

As if to disprove her point, Mr. Michael Upton strode up to Nash. "Sinclair, how are you? It's been three years since I last spoke with you. Will you be staying long at Renford?"

"A few weeks at most. Father tells me you opened a second mill in Beckbury."

"Yes, three months past." He gave Nash a rather pointed look in Lady Julianna's direction.

"Ah, Lady Julianna Dowsett, may I present my childhood friend, Mr. Michael Upton," Nash began. "Lady Julianna is my sister-in-law's sister."

"How do you do, Mr. Upton?"

He bowed. "Quite well, thank you. I met your sister two years ago, I believe."

Lady Julianna blinked and threw Nash a pleading glance. "Oh. Well, how...delightful?"

Mr. Upton offered his arm. "If you are not otherwise engaged, may I have this dance?"

"I, uh, that is, I hadn't—"

"She would love to," Nash said, giving her a slight push. He winked when her eyes narrowed. Upton was harmless and Lady Julianna did appear to enjoy dancing.

The third time Mr. Upton trod on her toes, Julianna cursed Mr. Sinclair and contemplated her revenge. There must be something he loathed as much as she found dancing with sweaty-palmed men of little consequence. Now that she thought on it, men of _any_ consequence with sweaty palms or foreheads made poor partners. She longed to pull her handkerchief from her reticule and scrub her hands, but couldn't do so until after the dance ended and she had gracefully escaped his company.

When she and Mr. Upton promenaded up the line of dancers, she noticed Mr. Sinclair standing between the Misses Collingwood, who were both talking at the same time. How wonderful! Julianna must make sure he danced with each of them. And if she could manage it, he'd dance with them twice, or more. Wouldn't that be scandalous, breaking the rules with the vicar's daughters.

She doubted that last would be possible. She would have enough difficulty arranging the first offers. Unless she enlisted the aid of Lady Renford.

Mr. Upton trod on her toes one last time before the music ended. Julianna curtsied, made an excuse to avoid his escort and hurried to where her mother and Lady Renford sat before Mr. Upton could offer refreshment or a stroll around the room. Mama noticed her approach. "Julianna, dear. I am so happy to see you enjoying yourself."

"Yes," Lady Renford added, the large peacock feather on her head bobbing. "That was kind of Nash to dance with you, although I doubt the gentlemen here needed any help in seeing what an excellent partner you are."

Julianna offered an imitation of her sister's sweet smile. "Yes, I had another offer as soon as the first song ended. But poor Mr. Sinclair hasn't danced again, even though he has two very eligible partners at hand." She turned in his direction, as did the two older women.

"Why so he has." His mother adjusted her bonnet. "He can't ask one sister and leave the other standing alone. I believe we can assist him. Shall we?"

Lady Renford led the way around the dancers with Mama directly behind her. Julianna hurried to keep up, so she wouldn't miss a moment of the conversation.

The countess greeted the three young people before taking the arm of Miss Milly. Or was she Miss Gilly? "I hope you don't mind, Nash, but I noticed your cousin was in need of a partner for the Scotch reel. I'll escort Miss Collingwood to him. You may dance with Miss Gilly in the Scotch reel, and Miss Collingwood in the next dance."

Mr. Sinclair's eyes flared momentarily, but his smile never wavered. "Capital suggestion. But who will dance with Lady Julianna?"

"Now, don't you worry, dear boy. Her mother and I will find her a partner, too."

Julianna kept her groan to herself. She hadn't anticipated that turn of the cards. Mr. Sinclair was proving to be a worthy adversary.

His mother was true to her word, and after depositing Miss Collingwood on the arm of an unsuspecting cousin Peter, Lady Renford introduced Julianna to a local farmer who was surprisingly light on his feet for a man who spent his days laboring in the fields. His conversation was pleasant, as they had both read some of the same books. He was a cheery sort of man who laughed often, and could be called handsome, but she was not sorry when he walked away, leaving her with her mother and Lady Renford. She wasn't eager to see him go, but there was nothing memorable about their brief encounter.

The other three men she danced with left her feeling the same way. While she had forgotten how much she enjoyed dancing, she wouldn't miss it when she returned home. And none of the gentlemen at the assembly would rate a mention when she told her aunt of all her adventures during her visit to Renford.

None, including the one who repeatedly drew her gaze as she danced with her various partners. Mr. Sinclair was worthy of such mention, but Julianna had yet to determine how he would fit into the grand scheme of her memories. He wasn't the Great Love she'd weep melancholy tears over in her later years, nor the Passing Fancy she'd keep in her thoughts just to remind her she'd once been a silly chit. And he didn't really seem an Innocent Flirtation.

No, he was more likely on the way to becoming a Great Friend she might one day wish had been more.

Nash resigned himself to dancing with the Collingwood sisters, and didn't hate it as much as he expected. The Scotch Reel was perfect for Miss Gilly's bouncy personality and she performed the steps flawlessly. He thought it a shame she and her sister had as yet been unable to find husbands. They were sweet, if one turned a blind eye to their exuberance.

After dancing with the second sister, he noticed the wallflowers quietly observing the dancers. The half-dozen young ladies talked amongst themselves as if they'd rather be anywhere but in the assembly rooms. He knew the feeling. He approached the closest one.

"Miss Langly, how are you?"

"I'm well, thank you." She plucked at the ribbon on her bodice.

He offered his arm. "Would you care to dance?"

She studied his arm as if she'd never seen one before, and glanced nervously at her friends before putting her hand inside his elbow. "Yes. Thank you."

His feet knew the moves so well his thoughts were free to wander, and those thoughts returned repeatedly to Lady Julianna. It didn't help when her laughter would ring out from a few feet behind him on the dance floor. Curiosity battled jealousy and he wanted to know what her partner had said to delight her so.

What really startled him was his reaction to Geoff partnering her. Watching Lady Julianna turn on his arm brought up petty emotions. Nash wanted to march over and remind his brother he had a wife who was perfectly capable of dancing. A similar rancid feeling churned in his gut when she stood up with other men. Why was he feeling so possessive of her?

Then Lady Julianna walked out on the floor with a local young man Nash didn't recognize. A short distance separated the pair when they took their positions and waited for the music to begin. She smiled and ducked her head, and Nash wondered what the man had said. Was it a simple compliment, or had he made some off-color suggestion? Lady Julianna wasn't bashful around Nash, so surely her reaction showed the man said something untoward. Should Nash speak to him?

Suddenly he heard his thoughts and realized he was acting like a fool. What could the man say in the midst of a crowded assembly? It had to be an innocent comment. Nash would do better to keep his eyes off Lady Julianna, or he might say something that would embarrass himself as well as the lady.

By the time he'd worked his way through the first three wallflowers, several other gentleman had come to the rescue of the others. Relieved of his self-imposed duty to ensure their happiness, he berated himself for his need to put on the knight's shining armor and rescue the fair damsels. He would have to watch that tendency while hunting for a wife, lest he find himself saddled to a young lady he'd only meant to save from disappointment.

Lady Julianna laughed again from the center of the room, calling him like a siren's song. Why was it, when he compared her to the other available ladies of his acquaintance, none presented themselves as desirable alternatives?
**Chapter Four**

In spite of the late hour of their return from the assembly rooms, Julianna arose early the next morning. She ate her toast and drank her chocolate alone in her room, grabbed her pelisse and slipped into the garden before anyone else stirred. Or so she thought.

Mr. Sinclair was returning from the stables. She noticed a slight limp she hadn't seen before. Had he injured a limb in battle, in addition to his head wound? After pulling off his gloves, he smiled when he saw her. "Good morning. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas. Have you been riding?"

"Yes. Old habit. Maneuvers at dawn, that sort of thing."

She knew nothing about maneuvers at dawn, or any other kind. No matter the number of books and treatises she read on battles, she would never fully understand what a soldier experienced. Even the wives who followed the drum—while they saw more than Julianna, they probably rarely lived through a kill-or-be-killed moment.

How many of those moments had he faced each day, and for how many years?

He fell into step beside her. "Do you ride?"

"A little. Father's horses were sluggards, so I haven't much experience at anything more than a walk."

"My father has a few gentle mares my sisters enjoyed. Perhaps we could ride together one morning before I return to Town."

"That would be nice. You live in London now?"

"I have a townhouse there. I'm thinking of speaking to Father about some of his properties. I believe I'd prefer living in the country, perhaps managing one of his estates."

She felt the same, although her aunt's cottage in Lyminster hardly qualified as a country house. When her aunt died, that house would become hers. "My aunt's home is in a small village. I find I'm quite content there."

"The men of Lyminster must all be married or blind to not be begging for your hand."

Julianna tried not to laugh. "You would have me think all men have marriage on their minds?"

"Well, no. Only the single ones. They've either accepted their fate or are still running madly from it."

"If my neighbors are running, it's not past our house. I must admit that would be quite a silly sight."

"I'm curious. I shouldn't presume enough of an acquaintance to ask it, though."

That piqued her interest. "We are slightly less than brother and sister. If Clemmie or Geoff were here you would probably ask."

He cleared his throat and glanced at the trees growing beside the path they walked. "I'm not certain I would. However. I wonder what sort of man might tempt you into marrying."

His gaze lingered on her and she grew warm despite the winter morning chill. She thrust her hands more deeply into her muff. How should she answer? If she knew what qualities she desired, she would have found that man already. Better to answer lightly. "Only a man who slays dragons could win my heart."

Mr. Sinclair laughed loudly, a delightful sound. "I should have suspected St. George himself would be the man for you."

"Or Jim Pulk."

"Jim who?"

"Pulk." She raised her nose a bit and looked at Mr. Sinclair through lowered lashes. "In Lyminster, tales are told of the dragon of Knuckler Hole who ate all the maidens in the land. When only the daughter of the King of Wessex remained, the king promised her hand in marriage and half his kingdom to the man who slew the beast. The dragon is long gone, although both a handsome unnamed knight and a village lad named Jim Pulk have been given credit."

"I see. I imagine if I heard a legend where the hero had no name, I'd be eager to lend it mine. This Jim person sounds quite the enterprising young lad. I believe I should have liked him."

She gave a dramatic sigh. "As should I. But as he lived hundreds of year ago, you now see why I must remain unmarried. I'm afraid I missed my chance at happiness by being born too late."

Mr. Sinclair picked up a small stone and tossed it into the distance. "I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss all men."

"No?"

"No."

She waited, watching him as they strolled. She would never admit how much she enjoyed conversing with him. His wit was very entertaining, and each time she saw him he appeared even more handsome. She bit her lip. This would not do! She mustn't let her resolve weaken. She didn't need a husband. Her life was settled.

But she was certain Mr. Sinclair had some sort of scheme in mind.

"I believe I can find a man whose offer you can't refuse. Yes, I'm positive of it."

Her lips thinned. Find a man? Perhaps he didn't find her as attractive as she found him. "Mr. Sinclair, I should hate to disappoint any young men you brought 'round with hopes of making an attachment."

"I'm willing to wager on it. I will have changed your mind before Twelfth Night."

"You think to change my mind in less than a fortnight?" Now she laughed. "I almost feel guilty accepting such a wager. What will you lose when I remain unattached?"

"You think quite highly of yourself. That will make this all the more enjoyable. What shall we wager?" He stroked his chin, his lips pursed as if to hide a grin. Julianna couldn't take her eyes off those lips. The bottom one was so full. How would they feel pressed against hers?

_Stop!_ As long as he didn't present himself as the candidate, she would be fine. She tried to focus on what she'd like to win. A new hat, perhaps, or a book.

"A kiss," he said.

"A what?" Had he seen her staring at his mouth?

"You heard me. When I win, you will give me a kiss."

"And when I win?"

"Well, you could also ask for a kiss. No?"

She shook her head. "If we shall kiss regardless of the outcome of the wager, where is the point?"

He stopped, turning her to face him. His hands remained on her shoulders. "Why, I believe you are right. You can kiss me now and save yourself the humiliation of losing."

Julianna's breath caught in her throat. Was he going to kiss her? Should she stop him? Did she want to stop him? Her heart raced with the questions in her head. She grew warm, then cold, then warm again all in the same moment. He tipped his head and leaned in, his gaze focused on her lips.

She swayed ever so slightly closer, then turned on her heel. "No, I think not," she tossed over her shoulder. "It will be so much more entertaining to see you lose."

She skipped back to the manor house.

Lady Julianna wanted a man who slays dragons, did she? Nash wasn't sure whether to laugh or kick the nearest rock. Finding a man who fit her dreams of knights and armor was next to impossible. Although it eliminated any competition for her hand.

As he dressed for dinner, thoughts of Lady Julianna still filled his head. He really had gone bacon-brained this time. How on earth would he convince her she belonged with him, and only him? And when had he decided she was the only one for him? Perhaps it was the moments when she laughed without restraint. Or maybe it was the challenge she presented.

She didn't want a husband, so there was little point in showing her how they suited. Their families got on well. His income would support a wife in some comfort, but he wished to work, and could easily earn enough to raise a family in a style more suiting the daughter of an earl.

Lady Julianna didn't seek a rich man or a title, so he had no concerns there. "She wants no man, you fool."

Givens, his valet, stopped tying Nash's cravat. "I beg your pardon, sir?"

"Ignore me. Just speaking my thoughts aloud."

"Very good, sir."

Nash studied the taller man who had been his batman for many years, up until they both were wounded in battle. "Givens, do I appear to have lost my faculties?"

"Other than calling yourself a fool, do you mean, sir?"

"I deserved that."

His friend and servant made one last adjustment before stepping back. "You, sir, are as sharp-witted as when you pointed out the Frenchie farmer who was acting oddly."

Nash shuddered at the memory of the farmer who'd hidden half a dozen enemy soldiers in his hay cart. If not for Nash's suspicions, he and his men would have been slaughtered like hogs.

The way he was turning into a such a nodcock, he was grateful he no longer was in the cavalry. At least losing his bet with Julianna would be painless. Other than the blow to his ego.

He was not willing to give up so easily, though.

A scheme was required, a good strategy. As worthy an opponent as Lady Julianna was, she would only appreciate losing in a good fight. She'd never give her heart to an undeserving man. But how was he to show her he'd slay dragons for her?

Once Givens approved of his appearance, Nash strode down the hallway towards the grand staircase. The thunder of footsteps raced up behind him and he was nearly bowled over by Everett and Frank, and again by St. George. The latter paused to bark happily, his tongue hanging out the side of his silly grin, before chasing after the twins.

That dog would be the death of someone, if the boys didn't quit teasing him. His size alone could break bones. When the grandchildren weren't in house, St. George was a calm animal, but he acted like a pup with the youngsters.

A door opened and Geoff caught up to Nash. "Was that the twins I heard charging past?"

"It was."

"I don't know how Marianne puts up with them."

Nash laughed. "She's too busy looking after the rest of her brood. Else those two hooligans would have some manners."

"Manners? You've forgotten our childhood completely, then?"

Nash shrugged. "Well, we didn't run in the halls."

"Nor slide down the banister. Nor jump from the balcony into a snowdrift."

"We were lucky in that one, weren't we? That bush we landed on was much softer than the tiled plaza would have been."

Geoff combed back his hair with his fingers and tugged at his cuffs. "Remind me of this in a few years when Edward is walking."

They joined the others in the drawing room. Lady Julianna was already conversing with Evie. Clementina came down after putting Edward to sleep. The other young parents looked exhausted after all the excitement of opening gifts with the children.

Mother called out to Nash. "You haven't said what part you'll take in the entertainments on Twelfth Night."

As he walked to her chair, Nash bit his tongue. Every year the servants and their families, along with the steward and a few of the tenant families, gathered to share in the cakes and treats, and enjoy the performances put on by Nash's brothers and sisters at the Twelfth Night children's ball. "I can honestly say I haven't given it a thought, Mother."

"You've been missed these past years and everyone will be so happy to see you. Perhaps you could do a reading again. You do read so eloquently."

He'd devise something if he must. "What about the children? They'd be much more entertaining than an old soldier."

"Marianne is teaching some songs to the younger ones but we must find something for the older boys. I'm not completely certain we can keep them under control long enough to recite two lines, but if one of you men would take them to task, we might have some luck."

Picturing Everett and Frank running at full speed made him consider what sort of charade would interest them enough to give their full attention. Something with swords and blood, yet nothing so gruesome as to send Lady Carrington into fainting spells.

An idea began to take shape. Yes, he might be able to pull this off and accomplish two things at once. "Why don't you leave the boys to me, Mother? You may add them to your entertainment program."

Mother gave his arm a squeeze. "I knew I could count on you. Have I told you how good it is to have you home? The holidays were the worst when I spent so much time wondering if your most recent letter would be your last."

Her words wrapped around him as if her fleshy arms hugged him. For a moment he almost wished he were young enough to crawl in her lap and let her shield him from the world. But those days were long gone. He hoped his love shone in his smile. "I plan to be here for all the rest of the holidays, never fear."

As he spoke, Lady Julianna turned her head and met his gaze. She undoubtedly couldn't hear him over the steady hum of voices, but he pretended her smile promised something to come.

After dinner the family broke into small groups in the drawing room and Nash strolled to Lady Julianna, seated near her sister. Bowing, he asked her, "Would you care to join me for a turn about the room?"

Her small smile sent waves of heat over him. She stood and took his arm.

Nash began to steer her towards the hearth where a fire glowed and crackled. "Did you enjoy your Christmas?"

"Yes, it was rather pleasant. If a bit more boisterous than I'm used to."

"That's how it should be. Loud, boisterous and filled with children's laughter."

She tipped her head to one side and studied him. "I suppose you're correct. Young boys home from school, the whole family gathered to celebrate."

He led her to a grouping of large plants and pulled her behind them. Her eyes widened and she stepped back. He smiled. "I'm not going to seduce you. I wanted to give you this."

He dropped a small, silk-wrapped bundle in her palm. She studied it and glanced at him questioningly, then unwrapped the package. She gasped as she lifted out the small dragon carving. "It's beautiful."

"It's something I've had since I was small. When I saw it in the nursery this afternoon, I thought of you."

She turned it back and forth as she studied it. "It looks quite fierce."

"But hardly more than a snack, don't you think?"

She snorted in laughter but caught herself quickly with her hand over her mouth. "I mustn't draw their attention. What will they think of us hiding here behind the ferns?"

"Your father will think the worst. My mother will think her prayers have been answered."

"She wishes for you to seduce her guests?"

His laugh bounced off the nearby wall. "Only the ones she considers an excellent match. I'm surprised she hasn't recommended me."

" _My_ mother has. She doesn't believe I have no interest in marrying."

"Or perhaps, she knows your heart better than you?" Before she could reply, he led her back into the heart of the room and took his leave.
**Chapter Five**

After washing off the smell of damp horse that clung to him from his daily ride, Nash slipped into the library in search of some privacy to read the newspaper, which had arrived in the morning mail. He should have known he was too late to be alone. Evie and Lady Julianna already were tucked into chairs near the fire, their noses pressed close to their books.

Grateful they were the quietest members of the family, he found the latest paper and took a seat by the window. In his usual fashion he began at the top and read everything printed on the page. What was not usual was his inability to recall what he'd just read. He repeatedly adjusted the pages so he could glance at where Lady Julianna sat.

More than once he caught her lifting her gaze, and was able to look away before their eyes met. He'd return to the article in front of him, only to read the same three sentences before glancing across the room once more.

This would not do. How had she become such a distraction? She hadn't spoken to him. In fact, other than her stolen glances in his direction, he couldn't be certain she was aware of his presence. He was all too aware of hers.

If the weather were warmer he could suggest a walk. Perhaps a game of cards would do. Or should he find the twins and discuss their charade for the Twelfth Night fete? Whatever he decided, reading the paper wasn't something he was presently able to do well.

Nash folded the paper rather noisily and rose. The nursery seemed the perfect place for him at the moment, surrounded by chatter and screeches and myriad reasons to not think of Lady Julianna.

Julianna watched Mr. Sinclair leave the library, smiling at his nod when he passed her chair. She almost followed him to enquire where he was going, and might she come along. But that wasn't wise, or even remotely proper. It appeared the more time she spent with him, even spent thinking of him, the more she questioned her life. The sooner she returned to Aunt Phillips' house, the better. Right or wrong, her aunt supported her unusual notion to become a writer. She needed the affirmation at the moment.

Questions about Mr. Sinclair's life ran through Julianna's thoughts until there was no room for anything else. She sighed. Evie continued to stare at her book, even after Julianna set down her own. Unable to hold back any longer, Julianna said, "Evie, may I ask you something about your brother?"

The younger woman blinked and set aside her book. "Of course. Which one?"

"Nash. I was told he was injured in battle. Was it a grave wound?"

Evie folded her hands in her lap and kept her eyes down. "Quite. By the time news reached us, he'd begun to recover, but we feared we were to lose him until we got further reports from his batman."

"He doesn't speak about it."

"No. Nash doesn't talk about himself at all, but most specifically not the Battle of Toulouse, where he was wounded."

Julianna couldn't recall what she'd read about the battle that took place the past spring, other than the great loss of life. "He should be proud to have fought in the battle that ended the war."

Evie quickly looked up, her eyes softening, and glanced at the door before speaking. "But you see, Napoleon had abdicated before the battle began. All those men died for nothing. Nash's wounds were for nothing."

"Are you certain?"

She nodded. "As I said, we don't discuss it, but Mama explained it to me when I asked why Nash was so sad all the time. The Duke of Wellington didn't receive the news until the day after Nash was wounded. Of course, the French didn't know of his abdication either, so they continued to hold their ground."

Pressing a hand to her mouth, Julianna considered this. Was Mr. Sinclair angry at how the war had ended? But he'd fought many battles by that time. Surely he understood how slowly news traveled. Yet how must he feel, nearly losing his life when Napoleon had already surrendered?

"Thank you for telling me this, Evie. He is very affable, yet he seems to have something secreted away. Was he always that way?"

"Not that I recall. I was quite young when he left us to join the cavalry, though. But when he visited, he seemed to laugh as much as the rest of us."

Julianna smiled. She and Clemmie had laughed often when they'd played in their nursery, but were expected to sit quietly and properly with their parents. She couldn't recall the last time she'd heard her father laugh. "You must have had a delightful childhood."

"As the youngest, I was usually blamed for what the others had done. Thankfully our governess observed I was the studious one, and knew who better to blame." Evie's face glowed as she spoke. "But I wouldn't change any of it, not even for all the books in London. Did you and Clementina get into trouble often?"

Julianna shook her head. "I'm not certain if it wasn't in our nature, or if Papa's disapproval meant that much to us. We were so eager to please him, yet he wasn't often given to praising our efforts."

"How sad. I think I shall always be praising my children. I fear I might spoil them if my husband is not stern enough to make up for my light hand."

Julianna toyed with a loose curl near her ear. Evie sounded eager to begin her family after all. Was Julianna truly the odd one, then? "Are you looking forward to your first Season?"

"Yes, very much so. My cousin will have her come out then, too. We shall have so much fun going to the balls and walking in Hyde Park. I can't wait to go back to Gunther's for ices. And Mama always lets me purchase a new book or two when we're in London."

Not one mention of the young gentlemen to be met. Perhaps Evie was not so unlike Julianna when it came to love. "What of the young swains? Is there anyone you're hoping to meet, some titled lord you've read about in the papers?"

Evie tilted her head. "I haven't thought much on it. There will be so many men. I'm sure to find one who doesn't bore me silly."

Julianna laughed. "That is all you require in a husband?"

The girl's cheeks colored beautifully. "I don't know what I require. Surely I'll know when I meet him. What about you? Why are you unmarried? Don't tell me it's because you live with your aunt and can't go to London. You're pretty enough to find a beau without leaving your home."

Now it was Julianna's turn to blush. "You exaggerate. But I did have a few beaux when I was in London. There was nothing about any of them that stood out, though. I couldn't see choosing one to spend my life with, when any of them would just as easily have suited. I can walk into the modiste's and find one pattern that stands out from the others. Surely there must be a man I could feel the same about."

Evie's eyebrows rose and a giggle escaped her. "You can't mean it. You can't compare finding a husband to buying a new gown!"

"I suppose I can't. But there is my point. Perhaps I'm not meant to marry. I don't dream of having children, I dream of visiting Vienna."

"You could go to Vienna on your wedding trip," Evie suggested. "But what will you do with the rest of your life if not have children?"

Julianna had hoped Evie, of all people, would understand. There must truly be something lacking in Julianna to not long for a family. "I'm beginning to ask myself that very thing. I almost wish I had stayed with Aunt Phillips. You see, I had decided never to marry. And was quite content with that decision."

A knowing light brightened Evie's face. "Do you mean to say you are developing an attachment to Nash?"

Leaning back in her chair, Julianna closed her eyes. "I am not at all certain what I mean."

Reaching the bottom of the staircase, Nash slowed to a more respectable pace and walked down the hall to the drawing room where everyone gathered before dinner. He was quite pleased with his afternoon spent in the nursery. Frank and Everett were beyond enchanted with the idea he proposed to them for the Twelfth Night entertainment. All he'd had to do was display the toy swords to gain the boys' attention.

Keeping their interest was another story, but what they would lack in polish, they'd more than make up for in enthusiasm. Nash would practice with them each day and hope they wouldn't forget all when they stood in front of a crowded room. His mother and their guests would enjoy the result no matter how it turned out.

Nash hadn't realized how long he'd taken in changing for dinner until he saw everyone else had already come below stairs. One could usually count on a sister or two to be the last to arrive. No one commented on his tardiness, so he located Geoff. "Did Mother tell you I'm helping the twins with an entertainment for the party?"

"She did. Whatever did she threaten to gain your assistance?"

"Would you believe I volunteered? And I wasn't even foxed. I can't say I'm certain what's come over me since I returned home."

"You can't? I could venture a guess." Geoff leaned back briefly, giving Nash a clear view of Lady Julianna sitting with her sister.

"Don't be absurd. If I wished to marry, I'd be better off choosing a young lady who was also looking to marry." Or so he'd been telling himself hourly.

"If marriage is your intent, I have no objection. I might even be convinced to assist your suit."

Nash raised a brow at his older brother. "You think me incapable of winning her on my own?"

Geoff grinned. "Just as I suspected. You can't hide anything from me. Even Mother has mentioned you two have been seen walking together. If you aren't careful, Lord Carrington will call you out."

"For speaking to her in passing when I discover her in the park? Don't make me laugh. If I had done anything untoward, you and Father would have called me on it days ago."

When dinner was announced, Nash turned to follow the others. Geoff stopped him with a soft request. "I only ask that you be sure of your heart before you involve hers."

Nash considered the request. He'd been advising himself the same thing. All he knew was every moment spent talking to her led to hours spent thinking about her.

As luck would have it, he was seated beside her at the table. After listening to the conversations around him, Nash leaned closer to Lady Julianna. "I wonder if you've considered the difficulties you might find when married to the man you seek."

She dabbed her mouth with a napkin before speaking with a pleasant expression. "I've thought of little else. Such as, will his valet continue to polish his armor, or will that task be given to me?"

"Yes, that would be important to know. As would, does he sleep in his chain mail?"

"Now you're being silly, Mr. Sinclair. What sort of man would sleep in chain mail?"

"I admit, I know of few men who even own the suits. It would take the appearance of Brummell in such costume to bring the style back."

From the corner of his eye, Nash saw her smile grow. She quickly hid it behind her glass as she sipped. "I prefer gentlemen who aren't creators of fashion. One who knows what is appropriate to wear to various occasions."

"I see. I shall add that to my list."

Lady Julianna took a slow spoonful of her soup. "Your list?"

"If I'm to find your ideal husband, I must know what qualities you find desirable. Beyond his propensity for stalking reptiles."

"Oh yes, of course. Well then, let me think on it. I should like him to be tall, please."

Julianna seemed intent on her meal, continuing to eat gracefully, unaware of the many conversations around them. He'd barely tasted his own food, although he'd eaten plenty judging from the number of times he'd lifted his fork to his mouth. How did one accomplish anything when one's mind turned to porridge? If Lady Julianna agreed to become his wife, would he be able to return to his normal routine?

If she turned him down, would he be able to shut the door on his thoughts?

A footman set a plate of meats in front of Nash. He stared at it before reaching for his fork. "I wonder if cook has a recipe for roast dragon loin."

Lady Julianna coughed and brought her napkin to her lips. When her breathing returned to normal, she spoke softly. "I should think the meat would be better stewed."

"Dragon fricassee. Or a ragout, what do you think?"

"The fricassee gravy would probably do better at disguising the gamey taste."

Nash stroked his chin. "I wonder what the average age is of the dragons your gentleman has killed. He must have a very large smokehouse. Or do you suppose he is the generous sort and shares his hunt with his tenants?"

"Of course he is generous. I wouldn't consort with any other type."

After chewing a few bites of what he was fairly certain was pork, he had a thought. "Do you suppose his tenants remain long on his land? What with his generosity, of course. As his wife, you'd be required to eat what he provided and be happy for it. But the tenants took no such vow of obedience."

A sound very close to a snigger came from Lady Julianna, who quickly reached for her napkin. "That is something I hadn't considered. Perhaps my knight is bound to render all his game to the king. We must raise our own pigs and beeves to feed our family."

They continued their silly talk through dessert. His mother's voice interrupted their imaginings and Nash realized it was time for the ladies to retire to the drawing room. He quickly stood and helped Lady Julianna from her chair. He couldn't recall a more enjoyable meal since the days of eating with his brothers and sisters in the nursery.
**Chapter Six**

Wishing to spend time with her namesake niece, Julianna made her way to the nursery after breakfast, stopping by her room to pick up a book. She noticed a sheet of paper on the table beside the chair. Obviously a child's drawing, the sketch was a rather detailed depiction of a dragon in flight. Flames shot from the open mouth.

She had no question as to who had placed the drawing in her room.

She set the paper down and hurried to the nursery, not wanting to think about why Mr. Sinclair would give her such a gift, nor the implication giving gifts implied. Was he courting her?

Little Julie came running into her arms when she entered the room. Julianna's heart filled with joy at the tiny arms stretching to reach around her. "You play with me?" her niece asked.

"How could I not? I must make up for all the months I have to be away from you."

"Why can't you live with me and Mama and Papa? You may share my bed."

"May I sleep there when I visit? Aunt Phillips would be very sad if I didn't return home soon. She lives all alone."

Little Julie struggled to free herself and took Julianna's hand. "Come read to me."

Following her niece, Julianna chose a book from the shelf and curled into the window seat with the little girl beside her. She turned to the last page she'd read and began to recite. After a few pages she realized the room was unusually quiet for morning. Glancing about, she noticed the older children were missing. She asked the governess where they were.

"They've gone off with their uncle, my lady."

Which of the gentlemen had taken them away? And why did she care? As much as she enjoyed each and every child, she spent little concern on how they were entertained each day. There were simply too many to keep track of. The poor young woman given their charge deserved an extra month's pay for the number of children in her care during this visit. Clemmie's nursemaid had her hands filled with Edward, and Julianna wasn't quite sure why Mr. Peter Sinclair's governess was not present. But it was none of Julianna's concern.

About the time she began to notice the chill of sitting by the window, the nursery door opened and the six older children rushed in, screaming and bouncing in their excitement. Little Julie, whose head was resting on Julianna's shoulder, sat up, suddenly more awake. "I play with Frankie now."

Julianna smiled, wondering how the wild boy felt about his cousin wanting to follow him around. "Go ahead."

Frank waved a wooden sword in the air. "I'm Captain Sinclair. Give up your arms!"

Mr. Sinclair walked up behind the boy and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Not in front of the little ones, my boy. You'll give them a fright."

Was Mr. Sinclair's rank that of captain? How like him to not use his rank now that he'd left the army. As the two oldest boys ran off to find something, she spoke to their uncle. "You didn't keep them outside long enough. They can still run."

He chuckled. "I believe I understand why the Lord gives us babes to practice on. Nine-year-old boys require all-together too much energy."

"I discovered the drawing in my room this morning. I assume you put it there?"

Mr. Sinclair walked up beside her. "Guilty as charged. I thought it might keep your Mr. Pulk in mind."

"You're afraid I might forget him?"

"No, no. I merely wish you'll be certain what it is about him you admire. Have you been out in the park at all today? There's a bit of warmth now that the clouds have cleared."

"I would enjoy a stroll. Let me put on my pelisse and bonnet."

When she met him at the top of the stairs she realized he smelled of fresh air, and it struck her as much more attractive than the colognes often doused too heavily on the gentlemen of the _ton_. She shook off the thought and followed his lead on the path around the house.

"We can sit in the walled garden. It's almost pleasant there."

"Almost?" She laughed. "You make it sound most tempting. I long to be almost comfortable."

"Are you not, here?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Are you not comfortable here? Away from anything familiar. So far from your home. Do you prefer to stay at home?" He shook his head. "But no, you've said you would enjoy traveling, visiting new places. So it isn't the unfamiliarity giving you discomfort."

Mr. Sinclair stopped at the stone bench near the bare skeletons of rose bushes and motioned for her to sit. She did, turning to face him slightly. "I was making fun. I am quite comfortable in your family's lovely home. My sister and parents are here, as are my niece and nephew. I've known your family these past five years."

"Well, then. I'm relieved to know it."

"What were you and the children doing when you had them outside?"

He gazed off in the direction of the water fountain which was dry for the winter. "Oh, you know how they are. We battled the enemy, ran with the hounds, and defeated a warlord. A typical day's work for younger sons."

"My, you're a very accomplished lot. Julie and I merely read a book."

"She is rather young still. I'm certain before long you'll have her painting and singing and working on her stitches."

He was right. One day, Julie's father would be the earl. Her life would be preparation for finding a suitable husband, running a large household or estate. Just as Julianna had been taught. How would Julie feel about her fate when she made her come out?

Julianna bit her tongue. She must stop bemoaning the fact she'd had a privileged upbringing. When she tried to think of polite conversation, her thoughts went directly to Mr. Sinclair, himself. "Were you a captain before you sold out?"

"Yes. I was in the 13th Light Dragoons."

"Evie told me about the battle where you were injured."

"Did she? I'm surprised. My family avoids the topic, at least when I'm around."

She straightened the closure of her pelisse, feeling a draft on her limbs. "As she told it, you weren't comfortable discussing it. Perhaps they simply try to respect your feelings." Realizing how that sounded, she took a deep breath. "Which is not to say I don't respect them."

He turned his head, catching her gaze. "I would never think that of you."

"There is more to you than the witty dandy you present yourself to be."

Mr. Sinclair rose, tugging at his waistcoat, and then lifting a foot and buffing a spot on the toe of his highly-polished hessians. "Me, a dandy? Is that truly how you see me?"

"No, silly man. I said there is more to you than that."

"But you believe me to spend too much time on my appearance?"

Was this his way of changing the subject? Should she let him do so, or ask him her questions about his time in France? She didn't wish to be rude. Yet she couldn't contain her desire to know him better. "I—I'm not quite certain how I see you, if you must know. You have me quite addle-pated. I only sought to sketch your character, much as you've been doing mine. It's only fair you answer my questions as I have yours."

He straightened and turned away, as if studying the maze in the distance. The air seemed to grow colder, and she wondered if the congeniality they shared had suddenly fled. Had she pushed too hard? This very situation was what she had avoided by remaining in Lyminster when invitations to house parties arrived. Not that she ever expected to meet a gentleman such as Mr. Sinclair, but she didn't know how to speak with him beyond the pleasantries of the drawing room.

"I'm not a war hero, you understand."

"I think all men who go into battle are heroic."

"They're not. Some might have dreams of glory, but they lose them very quickly. The battles are interminable, broken by monotonous days of travel through muddy fields. The water in our canteens was filled with grit, and I won't subject you to the details of our rations. Men fall on one's right and left and when the shooting halts, one can't be certain if the blood on his uniform is his or another's."

He bit his tongue. "I am so sorry. A lady shouldn't have to hear such descriptions."

Lady Julianna shook her head, and Nash wasn't certain if the glassiness in her eyes was from the cold, or tears. At least she wasn't growing faint at the mention of blood. She watched him for a short time before speaking. "I asked about the war. I can't very well expect you to censure your response. I once heard my aunt's friends speak about a woman who'd gone into battle with her husband. I couldn't determine whether that was the most selfless act, or selfish."

It surprised him she could see beyond the woman's viewpoint. "How so?"

"Of course it would be selfless to be there to take care of him. But can her husband turn his attentions fully to the fight when he must watch to see she is not injured in the volleys?"

Nash tipped his head to the side. Daily, Lady Julianna surprised him with her insights and thoughts. Did his sisters have discussions such as this? Since they'd grown old enough to leave the nursery, he'd only been privy to the light chatter suitable for polite society. Perhaps it wasn't too late to get to know them better. "I cannot say what makes a man permit—" he held up a hand to stop the retort he expected. "Yes, in this case I say permit. His job is to protect her, and allowing her to risk her life beside him can't be a hasty decision."

"Would you have allowed your wife to accompany you into battle?"

"I always assumed the woman I would marry would know her place and not even consider such a thing. If she had particular nursing skills I might have considered it."

He continued to think, and walked a few paces away before turning back. Looking out at the treetops over the garden wall, he searched for his deepest thoughts. "I would not have married while I served, even had I found a woman who suited. Leaving my mother and sisters to mourn me was enough; I didn't need a wife and children left behind if I died."

Lady Julianna showed little expression as she studied him. Not the usual polite, pleasant smile, but a smaller, understanding softness to her mouth. "I think many men waited to marry until the war ended."

"But some men were married when the war began, and I can't judge them their choices. The women who accompanied us provided a great service to many of the men. Some even remained when their husbands were killed, and on occasion remarried."

He noted a slight lifting of one of Lady Julianna's eyebrows and shook his head. "I'm not speaking of the light-skirts, who were always to be found nearby. No, I refer to the ones who cooked, mended, washed the laundry. A few in our company were rather motherly to the younger men."

"I imagine it is a comfort to have the gentler sex among your numbers after a battle."

At times he would have agreed. But not after Toulouse. Or rather, not after the laudanum had worn off and he'd heard the full details of the days leading up to that advent. "Even they couldn't ease what I felt after hearing Napoleon had surrendered."

"Weren't you joyous that the war had ended?"

"The war should have ended before that battle began. I can't give back the lives of those men I killed that day." He raked his fingers through his hair, remembering the feel of blood on his hands.

"But you didn't know. No one knew."

He offered her a wry smile. "Those words ease my mind, but nothing can cleanse my soul."

"Please don't think that. It's an entire world I could never comprehend. I'm not certain I would wish to fully do so. But I wondered about the shadows that come over you at times."

Nash drew in a deep breath, and then smiled from his heart. "They are passing melancholies, nothing to concern you. But I thank you for that concern." He offered a slight bow.

She stood, adjusted her pelisse, then closed the small space between them. "I can't call it concern, as I knew you would recover your humor. I simply couldn't comprehend what haunted you so. And at some point I came to feel as if, by understanding it, I could take it from you."

Her words, spoken softly but assuredly, hit him like no declaration of fondness ever would. A small bit of the ice he carried inside him melted. If he stood closer, would he be able to melt it all? She drew him like a brightly burning hearth. Tempted him as no woman ever had. The desires he'd felt for the women he'd slept with in the past were merely shallow urges in comparison.

A kiss from Lady Julianna would never be enough. He struggled against the longing to take her into a small room somewhere, or even the garden shed, and run his hands over her bare skin.

Suddenly recalling his entire family, and hers, roamed the walls of the house behind them, he offered his arm before he could offer anything more. "I've kept you outside much too long. You must be quite cold. Shall we go inside?"
**Chapter Seven**

Julianna stood to one side of the drawing room awaiting instruction. List in hand, Lady Renford, directed the house servants where to hang the fresh greenery they had brought inside for the New Year celebration. Julianna couldn't understand what was wrong with the garlands put up before Christmas, but it wasn't her place to question the countess.

"Now, you girls come." Lady Renford waved a hand urging Julianna and the other three young women to attend her.

Marianne sat beside her mother on the chaise. "I thought only the family would be in attendance tonight, Mama. You are putting as much attention into this as you do for Twelfth Night."

"This night is just as important to me. Your father offered for my hand forty years past on New Year's Eve. We shall have a celebration and the room must look exactly the way I wish it." She continued to detail the dinner and entertainments they would enjoy.

While the sentiment was sweet, it couldn't distract Julianna from her own thoughts. Her feelings for Mr. Sinclair were changing so quickly, she feared she should leave Renford Abbey as soon as possible. No longer did she believe she might fall in love with him. There was no _might_ in question. With each day and each moment spent in conversation, he proved he was exactly the sort of man with whom she could happily spend her days. His fine wit and intelligence made time with him pass so quickly.

How pleasant life would be laughing beside him, teaching their children to see joy in every moment. She would never have imagined spending her days in such a manner.

Which only proved why she must leave before he spoke to her.

She was not suited to a life answering to her husband's demands—no, that was too harsh. Mr. Sinclair would never make demands. But a man of his sort should have expectations of a wife, and she knew herself incapable of meeting them.

All her life, she had thought primarily of herself. Her needs, her wishes. Her very inability to consider others wants before her own had told her she shouldn't marry. Although, in a sense, she was putting the sensibilities of her beaux first in not marrying them. She simply would not make a good wife, whereas Mr. Sinclair deserved the best wife he could find. A woman always aiming to please her husband. He possessed such a good heart. He should have a marriage like his father, to a woman who'd celebrate the anniversary of their betrothal.

Clemmie's voice in Julianna's ear pulled her back into the activity around her. "What occupies your thoughts so deeply?"

"Oh, nothing of great import. I'm merely wondering how Aunt Phillips is faring. I think two months is too long for me to be away."

Clemmie took her arm and led her from the others. "Somehow, I imagine our aunt is not foremost in your mind."

"Perhaps it is all the activity here. We live such a simple life in Lyminster."

"You went to balls and assemblies every night for weeks on end during the Season not three years past. You cannot insist you've become a retiring spinster so quickly."

No, she couldn't, even though she didn't miss the parties and people and gaiety. "I find I've grown quite content with the quiet company of our aunt's friends. And I've a few friends of my own among the young ladies there."

"You've had a touch of the blue devils ever since Edward was born. Have you changed your thoughts about your future?"

Julianna sighed. "No, I am still resolute to remain single. It's for the best."

"The best for whom? Surely Aunt Phillips is the only one benefitting from this choice. I don't see you traveling or writing your novels." Clemmie picked up some paper snowflakes and ribbons and handed a few to Julianna. They began to string them for hanging.

Keeping her voice low, Julianna asked, "Is it silly to wish for such things, sister?"

"I don't think so. No sillier than any of the things we dreamed of as young ladies. What makes you ask?"

"I've had the oddest notions these past weeks. Before Edward was born, the idea of heirs and estates was as foreign to me as manufacturing woolens or sitting in the House of Lords. Important and necessary, but not my concern."

Clemmie grinned. "I'm relieved you didn't relate them to emptying chamber pots."

The sisters laughed, then made certain the other women weren't listening. "I'd hoped the making of an heir was a more pleasant process."

Clemmie blushed and glanced away. "Enough so to make me suggest you should reconsider remaining unmarried."

"Should I? I'm not sure I agree. If I were to discover I'm not suited to traveling abroad, I can simply return home. But what if I found I'm not suited to being a wife?"

Nash stood behind Evie's chair in the parlor with the family gathered around. Everyone's attention was on the clock, watching as the stroke of midnight neared. His father held a tankard of wassail, although the others held more respectable drinking vessels of the liquid.

When the clock began to strike, Father called out to the footman stationed at the entry. "Throw open the doors!" And thus they welcomed in the New Year.

Father raised his tankard. "To new beginnings, a clean slate."

Nash raised his glass and smiled at Lady Julianna as he did. _To new beginnings_. The best part about cracking open a new novel was getting to know the characters within. He felt the same about Lady Julianna. Discovering her quirks, her likes and passions was a grand adventure. He only hoped they ended up on the same page when the adventure was done.

At Mother's suggestion, Evie went to the pianoforte to play. Nash turned the pages for her and sang in harmony. Their voices suited so well, he wished he'd had more time to visit as she grew up. The wars had stolen much of his life, or made it drastically different from that shared by the rest of his family.

But that was behind him, and a new year stretched out before him. A blank slate ready for new adventures.

When another voice joined them in _The Last Rose of Summer_ , Nash realized Lady Julianna had come to stand on the other side of Evie. Lady Julianna's soprano was clearer than his sister's, and blended perfectly with his own tenor. She smiled when her eyes met his. He stumbled over the words for a moment, then quickly turned the page for Evie.

When the song was finished, Marianne came to play a duet with Evie. Nash offered Lady Julianna his arm and walked casually away from the others. "Happy New Year."

"And to you."

"When we were young, we used to make a wish for a goal we hoped to reach in the next year."

"Did they often come true?"

"Geoff's did, because he usually wished for something he could obtain. Marianne's tended towards a more magical, lofty dream she'd no hope of reaching, such as being able to fly."

"And you, Mr. Sinclair? What types of goals did you wish upon yourself?"

"I was a dullard. I wished to master Latin, or finally shoot Keith, the old buck in the woods."

"Keith. You called a buck Keith?"

Nash debated walking to the fire, but instead came to a stop not too far from where his brother and a few others played cards. "The gamekeeper called him that. I never asked why. We just called what we heard."

"I see. And did you ever shoot this buck? I cannot call him by name when I ask, for it sounds too much like killing a friend."

"You'll be pleased to know he lived to a ripe old age. The gamekeeper found him dead one winter. The rack of antlers hangs over the hearth in the hunting lodge in honor of the buck who outwitted us for so long."

"Well, then." Lady Julianna dropped his arm and faced him. "Did you wish for something tonight?"

"I did." He took a deep breath and carefully considered his words. "I wished I may be happily married before the end of the year."

Her eyelids lowered for a moment, then she again met his gaze. "And is this a goal you feel is obtainable?"

Nash wanted to take her hand in his, but was afraid she'd flee like a deer with any sudden movement. He was fully aware of how skittish Lady Julianna was about the subject at hand. He had six more days in which to show her how perfectly they suited. Six more days to convince her she could easily love him as he was beginning to love her. Best to play this coyly. "The married part is quite easily achieved, even for a younger son. It's the 'happily' part that will take some work."

Tilting her head in that way of hers, she asked, "You believe it takes work to be happy? Shouldn't it simply arise naturally from the situation?"

"It should, exactly. Thus the need for work—I must work to assure I marry a woman with whom I'm capable of being happy."

She nodded.

He withdrew the small scroll he'd secreted in his pocket and held it out. Lady Julianna took it, looking at him questioningly. "Open it," he said.

She loosened the ribbon and opened the scroll, then gasped. "How lovely."

Nash leaned over to view it again. "It's a Chinese dragon. They often have dragons in their New Year's celebrations, although their year begins on a different day. The dragon symbolizes good luck. I wish you have nothing but good luck in your life."

Lady Julianna smiled. "Thank you. I'm certain your dragon shall bring me the best of luck."

Realizing his family was probably placing bets at the direction of their private conversation, Nash offered his arm again and they continued to circle the room.

He had a strong feeling this would be the luckiest of years for both of them.

~*~

Two days later, Geoff caught him as he returned from his morning ride. "You're awake early, brother," Nash called.

"No, simply out in this miserable cold. With young children one is always about this early."

Nash handed Caesar's reins to the groom and dusted the sleeves of his greatcoat. "And what brings you outdoors at this hour?"

"I came to speak to you. About Lady Julianna."

"I see. Are you going to question my intentions like a good brother?"

Geoff grabbed his sleeve, pulling him to a stop. "Do I need to? We discussed this before. Yet you continue to have private conversations with her, and offer her gifts. What are you about?"

He shook Geoff's hand off his arm. "I'm fed up with your interference, Geoff. I have done nothing disrespectful. Has the lady complained to her sister?"

"Well, no."

"Has her mother requested your assistance in a graceful removal of my person?"

"Of course not. And before you ask, her father would come after you himself if he felt the need. My concern is for both of you. Lady Julianna does not desire a husband. She is truly happy with her life as it is. If you divert her heart into an infatuation she mightn't recognize it as such, and might make a choice she later regrets."

Nash could see the love in his brother's eyes, which was the only reason he listened in silence. Geoff had both his and Lady Julianna's best interests in mind.

"I wish you all the peace and happiness a man can obtain, Nash. But, I wish it for the rest of your life. I asked once that you to be certain of your heart before making her fall for you. Now I ask you to go slowly enough that Lady Julianna will know her own."

"And how long will that be? Do you believe her to be of simple mind and unable to know herself? The lady has had ample years in the marriage mart to fully understand how she feels when speaking with most gentlemen. If she recognizes a difference in her happiness when with me, do you not think her intelligent enough to know if it will be a lasting feeling?"

Geoff ran his gloved fingers through his hair and tugged his hat back on. "You are right. She's not a silly chit, she's an intelligent young lady. So that is your plan then? To marry Lady Julianna?"

"If she will have me. I intend to make her the best of husbands."

"I won't question how you can be so certain in so short a time. You always made your choices with little deliberation and were pleased with the outcome."

Nash chuckled. "There was many a night I lay on damp blankets in a wet fog listening to the moans of injured comrades where I would have argued that point. But I never questioned the battlefield was where I belonged."

Geoff slapped him on the back as they resumed walking up the path away from the stables. "There will be times in your marriage you'll feel the same."
**Chapter Eight**

The entire household had been in a flurry with last minute preparations on the morning of Twelfth Night. Lady Renford might be an elegant hostess, but only after much tumult and direction so that every detail was performed to her exact demand. Hoping to escape the chaos, Julianna slipped quietly up the back stairs to find her niece.

She knew from the behavior of the older children that something special was afoot, but the twins bolted out of the nursery before she could ask. The governess was trying to herd all the children before taking them down to the parlor where the festivities were being held.

Little Julie rushed to give her a hug. She wore a pristine white gown slightly too large for her small frame, and had a wreath of ribbons and dried flowers pinned atop her flowing golden curls. Julianna toyed with the dangling end of a ribbon. "You look so pretty!"

"I'm a princess," she answered with a slight lisp.

"Are you participating in the charades today?"

The little girl said yes. At that moment, the governess called the child to join the others, and she steered them out into the hall.

With nothing else to do but join them, Julianna took up the rear of the line of marching children and followed them into the parlor. The arriving neighbors mingled about, adding even more children running about and increasing the hubbub. It was a happy noise, she realized. More laughter than words of cheer.

Working her way through the visitors, she found Clemmie and Evie calming Lady Renford. "All is ready, Mama," Evie said, patting her mother's shoulder. "Marianne has the Twelfth Night cards in a bowl and will let them be drawn after the children's entertainment."

"And Cook has the King's Cakes on platters to be brought up after the rest of the foods. It will be a wonderful evening, Lady Renford." Clemmie smiled at her sister as she led her mother-in-law to a chair.

"Nash has the children ready to perform as soon as we are able to quiet the guests," Evie added. "You rest now, we'll see to everything."

They walked away from the older woman and Clemmie pointed. "Evie, you see that the older guests have chairs to sit in. Julianna, please guide all the children to sit in this area, and their parents can have the benches."

Between the three young ladies, they brought the crowd under control, or to a hushed murmur, which continued until Nash walked out onto the area marked as the stage. He was so regal with his proud military stance, in his dark green coat and wheat-colored waistcoat, Julianna's heart beat faster just looking at him. The audience grew quiet in anticipation.

"Welcome everyone. Before the dancing begins, we have some entertainments for you to enjoy. First, my cousins Lady Beatrice and Lady Cassandra will perform a medley of Irish tunes." He bowed and exited as the two young ladies, neither of whom could be sixteen yet, sat at the pianoforte. The music was quite pleasant, their voices well suited to the lilting songs. Next, another cousin played Beethoven on his violin, although Julianna couldn't have named the piece upon hearing it. Still, it was an earnest effort and the audience clapped appreciatively.

Nash reappeared and introduced the next act. "We have for you an original charade featuring my nephews, The Earl of Claredon and Lord Frank Whitmore, and my niece, Lady Julie Sinclair."

Clemmie led Julie onto the center of the stage by and left her there. Everett and Frank marched out wearing paper armor and carrying wooden swords. On the opposite side of the stage came St. George, and upon being directed to do so by Mr. Sinclair who was offstage, the dog sat and barked. The children in the audience laughed.

One of the twins raised his sword and announced in a loud voice. "I'm Uncle Nash—I mean, I'm Captain Sinclair and I've come to save you from the fierce dragon, my lady."

The other boy stepped forward with a similar wave of his weapon. "And I'm Jim Pulk, and I'll save you first."

Julie said nothing as her cousins ran towards the dog who sat calmly, tongue lolling from his open, drooling jaws. The boys waved their swords fiercely at St. George, who wagged his tail but remained sitting.

The twin portraying Jim Pulk whispered, "Lie down, George. You're supposed to play dead."

St. George licked the boy's face. The other twin jumped on the dog's back and wrestled him to the floor. The boy jumped up and waved his sword. "I've killed him!"

The audience laughed, St. George barked, and the boys ran back to the fair princess standing center stage. They knelt on either side of her. "We have slain the dragon, my lady. The king has promised your hand to one of us. You must choose which of us you'll marry."

Julie looked at her two cousins and quickly pointed to one. "I choose Frankie."

Frank, who had proclaimed himself to be Captain Sinclair, took her hand and bowed his head. He then rose and led her off the stage. Everett called St. George and followed.

Julianna saw Mr. Sinclair return to announce the final performance, but she heard not a word of what he spoke. Had she truly seen what just played out? Mr. Sinclair had slain her dragon, presenting himself as the only candidate for her hand.

It was what she had hoped for, and what she feared all at once. Far beyond the bet, she now had to make the most important decision of her life. No longer could she think of escaping to the safety of her home in Lyminster. She must examine her feelings and make certain she could live with the choice she made.

While the last of Mr. Sinclair's cousins performed, Julianna slipped out into the hallway, where the cooler air was a refreshing relief. She couldn't say whether it was the crowd or the emotion of the play that had her cheeks burning, her entire person tingling with warmth. She heard the door open and close behind her and feared she'd have to answer before she was ready.

To her relief, Clemmie grabbed her elbow and pulled her into the library, where the fire burned in case any of the guests wished to escape the activity of the evening. "What was that we just saw?"

"The charade? I'm sure I couldn't—"

"Julianna. I know better."

"It was all a silly wager. A simple question taken far beyond the answer given."

"Between you and Nash?"

"Yes. He asked me what sort of gentleman I preferred. I had told him I have no intention of marrying, as I had given my heart to Jim Pulk."

"The lad of the dragon legend?"

"The same. I thought if I insisted on marrying a man who killed dragons I was safe."

Clemmie's frown of concern softened into a smile. "Of course, because you'd never done battle with Mr. Sinclair."

Julianna shook her head. "I don't know what to do. These past few days he's given me small dragon carvings and drawings, all leading to this evening."

"You mentioned a wager?"

"Yes. He said he could present to me a man whose offer I couldn't refuse."

"I see. And can you? Decline his offer?"

"Well, he hasn't off—"

"Julianna..."

She sighed, wringing her hands. "I don't want to decline. But I would make him a perfectly wretched wife. I'm not suited to a house filled with children. Or putting my husband's wishes first. I only think of myself."

Clemmie put an arm around her and led her to the chaise. "You are thinking of Nash right now, considering his needs over yours. You are loving and generous, and you are an excellent aunt to Julie and Edward. How can you doubt yourself so?"

"He nearly gave his life for his country, Clemmie. He deserves a wife who will honor him, and deserve his love."

"So you will love him and honor him and work to be the wife you feel he deserves." Clemmie smoothed a hand over Julianna's upswept hair. "It's what we all do, sweetling. I must admit I never expected you to act this way over any gentleman, but I think you have chosen well."

"Have I? Chosen, I mean?"

"Silly girl. Ask your heart what it wishes."

A knock sounded at the door and Mr. Sinclair stuck his head inside. "Clementina, Marianne is looking for you. She wishes to draw the Twelfth Night cards now and get the players ready."

With a quick hug, Clemmie rose and left the library, passing Mr. Sinclair ambled slowly into the room. He bowed when he reached her. "Did you enjoy the children's entertainments this evening?"

"Why yes. Your cousins sing and play well."

"Quite so. Talented family we are. And what did you think of the charade?"

"Julie played her part quite well. As did St. George. The twins did rather well, too, if a little enthusiastic, when battling the dragon."

"Yes, I had to tame them a bit since the early rehearsals. Is that all you have to say about the evening?"

"Oh, the evening is still young. I understand your mother will have some of us portraying the Twelfth Night characters during the ball. It should prove quite entertaining."

He took a step closer. "Lady Julianna, I'm certain you did not miss my point in the charade."

Her stomach quivered as if a hundred butterflies awakened. "No, sir. I did not."

Mr. Sinclair sank onto the chaise close enough she could feel the heat from his person envelop her. "We have the outcome of a wager to decide."

"Yes, we do." She took a deep breath. Would he kiss her now?

"For the sake of propriety, shall we first determine who is the winner?"

"Sir, if you plan to kiss me while we are alone in here, I believe propriety has been ignored."

He reached for her hand and stroked his thumb over her skin. "I suppose you're correct. Still, as a man I must know whether I've won or lost. Have I presented to you a man capable of winning your heart?"

"You have."

His lips twitched slightly in their smile. "I see. And has he won that heart?"

She had no hesitation. "He has."

Mr. Sinclair raised her hand to his lips, then captured it between his hands. "Lady Julianna, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

"The honor would be mine. Yes, yes, I will marry you." She burst into laughter nearing on tears. "Oh, Mr. Sinclair, you have truly shattered what I believed was the best life for me."

"Please, call me Nash." He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face, leaning forward to press his warm, soft lips to hers.

All her thoughts fled on the wings of butterflies. She held onto his shoulders to keep from falling as the chaise seemed to tip beneath her. All too quickly cool air hit her lips. She opened her eyes to see Nash smiling down on her.

"You make me the happiest of men. I know most men must say that, but it's the truth, dear Julianna. May I call you Julianna?"

"Yes, of course. My family would think it odd if you didn't."

He sat up straight, distancing himself. "Your family. Lud, your father. I must speak to him before we tell the others."

"You look rather pale. I thought you capable of slaying dragons."

"I've confronted many a dragon on the battlefield, but never the father of the lady I wish to marry."

"You will do fine, Nash. I know you will."

Rising, he offered a hand to help her stand. "We should get back. The others will wonder where we are."

She laughed softly. "Those who know us will suspect where we are. If not the correct room, they will have guessed your intent."

"We'd best hurry."

The benches and chairs had all been pushed to the walls of the large room to make room for dancers. Mrs. Collingwood sat at the pianoforte while her husband stood nearby sawing on his fiddle. The music was quite festive and lifted Nash's spirits even higher than Julianna's words had. If he didn't know better, he'd look to see that his feet actually remained on the floor.

Nash stood up with Julianna for the next two dances, then let her find her sister while he went in search of Lord Carrington. When a search of the parlor failed to turn him up, Nash went to the drawing room where card tables had been set up.

He found Carrington in the middle of a game of _Vingt-un_ with Nash's father, his brother-in-law and a few local men. Not wishing to interrupt the game, Nash hung back near the door. After some short time passed, Carrington called out. "I suppose you've something to say to me?"

"Yes, sir. I wish a moment of your time when you are free."

The earl slapped his cards down on the table and shoved his chair back. "These cards are not in my favor tonight. You might be saving me from the poorhouse." He walked passed Nash and waited for him in the hallway.

Nash motioned towards the library. "I believe we can be alone there."

"Is that where you had my daughter this past hour?" the earl asked gruffly.

Nash tugged at his waistcoat to keep from fisting his hands. "We were only in private for a few minutes. I would never dishonor Lady Julianna in any way."

The older man burst out laughing and slapped Nash between the shoulder blades. "I was young once myself, lad. I've seen the way the two of you have been speaking to one another as if no one else existed. I'm guessing that is why we're here."

"Yes, sir. Your daughter has done me a great honor in agreeing to become my wife."

"Has she." It was a statement, not a question. "Had you come to me two weeks ago and said this I would have expressed surprise. I did not think to ever see her marry."

"She told me she had no plans to marry."

"And you have convinced her otherwise. Is that what the charade was about this evening? Dogs and hooligans with swords and that precious granddaughter of mine?"

"Yes sir."

"I will let you keep the true meaning between yourselves. She seems happier than I've seen her in years. You will see to it she remains that way?"

"I will, sir."

He cuffed Nash on the arm. "Good man. Now, where does your father keep his brandy? I've a feeling I'll need some as we settle into negotiations."

In the wee hours of the morning as the dancers were slow to take the floor and most of the children had been put down with blankets in the nursery, Lord Renford raised his glass of wassail and called for attention. "Before you all return to your homes, I leave you with a most joyful announcement. My son Nash, late of the 13th Light Dragoons, has just this evening delighted us with the news of his betrothal to Lady Julianna Dowsett. Please raise your glass with me in a toast to the happy couple."

Nash bowed his head in response to the cheers from their guests, and stole a glance at his lady. Julianna glowed, her cheeks brightly colored as if they'd danced a rollicking jig. Her hand on his arm tightened. Speaking in low tones, he asked, "Do you not enjoy the attentions of a crowd?"

"Most decidedly not." Her smile never wavered.

"Then it is lucky for you I am a younger son. We'll have no vassals or tenants to sing our praises at the harvest festival every year."

Her eyes widened and she gave him a most startled look. "None? But on whom shall we impose our excess sides of dragon?"

Nash chuckled and patted her hand on his sleeve. "Yes, my fair lady, we shall be the happiest of couples."
**Excerpt**

Enjoy the first chapter of the next book in The Bridgethorpe Brides Series, **The Incorrigible Mr. Lumley**!

April, 1810

Newmarket, Sussex, England

The air held a hint of excitement and promise of a fresh beginning. For David Lumley, the new year began in spring. Not with the first foal in the family stable, but with the Craven Race Meeting in Newmarket, the first official meeting of the year. This was going to be a grand year for Triton, he could feel it. Fernleigh Stud would be the name on everyone's lips again.

The crowd at the racecourse was as large as David expected. He surveyed the grounds from his position near the judging station. The social Season in London had yet to begin, so the wives of the horse owners were all in attendance at the Craven. From the way they all leaned close to each other and whispered in the coffee house, they were eager to discover the latest _on dits_. David was always astounded when he overheard how much went on in the homes of the _ton_ during the winter months. His life seemed thankfully dull in comparison.

He had no desire to listen to gossip, but soon he'd be unable to escape it. He'd promised to escort his sister, Hannah, in her first London Season. In preparation over the winter, Mother had dragged him to afternoon teas and the morning calls she and Hannah made to their neighbors in the village near Bridgethorpe Manor. Dull, precisely timed events where the conversations were by rote up to the moment someone let slip she'd heard _news_. No matter on whom the juicy tidbit focused. All other voices in the room silenced so the speaker's slightest inflection could be heard.

It was all too much for a man to bear.

David wound through the milling people on his way to the stables. He found his groom, Peter, in the stall with Triton, just completing his work. As the boy gathered his tools, David patted the bay's shoulder. "How is he this morning?"

"Right as always," said Peter. "He's got a bit of the devil in 'im. He'll be after showing them other horses who's king."

"Just as long as he wins. I'm counting on him."

Peter put the tools into a bag and opened another, removing the carefully folded shirt made in the colors of Fernleigh Stud, the orange body with yellow sleeves. He donned the garment and the black hat that completed the uniform.

David stepped back as the youth saddled the horse and then freed the reins from the iron ring on the side of the stall. Together they led Triton out of the stables and to the examination area. Other grooms and horses milled about in preparation for the race. David glanced at the schedule. "We're entered in the third race. You'll have him warmed up?"

"Of course, sir. He'll be ready to race 'is best, never worry."

Peter's cocky grin said his boss always worried, but David didn't reprimand the lad. Peter was the best groom and rider he'd come across, with a natural knack for understanding what a horse was thinking. He could bring more out of an animal than any of the trainers they'd paid good money to, and the animals seemed calmer around him.

"You see that he does race his best," David called out with a growl. A useless effort. There was no sense trying to sound more authoritative when Peter knew who paid his wages, and showed due respect when the situation called for it.

Assured his horse was in good hands, David crossed the grounds, nodding and calling greetings to those he recognized. His brother Adam, Viscount Knightwick, should have arrived by now. As he scanned the gathering crowd, his gaze landed on the last face he wanted to see at the Spring Meeting, or any other race event.

Northcotte.

_Blast it._ David's gut knotted at the sight of the man. Ducking behind a pair of gentlemen walking in the earl's direction, David darted around the corner of a building where he could eavesdrop without being noticed. He peered out into the lane. Robert Hurst, Lord Northcotte, stood with a particularly handsome young lady, and their sharp exchange reached David's ears.

The young lady folded her arms across her chest, and the tiny, pale blonde ringlets framing her face trembled with tension. "I am going to ride him. No one will know. I've trousers in the stable, and I can wear Bruce's shirt and cap. With my hair tucked up, no one will recognize me."

Northcotte jerked her arm. "You will not consider it. Do you want to risk everything I've left? I'll find a jockey and Patriot will be entered as planned. You may tell Bruce his services are no longer needed."

"I'll do no such thing! That boy needs the wages for his family, and it's not his fault he is ill. You cannot hire some stranger to ride Patriot. You know he'll never allow a strange man on his back. I must be the one to ride him or we may as well scratch him from the race."

"I'll hear no more of this, Joanna. Go find Mother and let me handle this."

Northcotte released her arm and strode off toward the stables. The young lady must be his sister, Lady Joanna. She stood for a moment and watched him go, then spun on her heel and stomped off in the opposite direction.

David smiled at her forceful steps in the dirt. She seemed much like Hannah. Stubborn, impulsive, and too daring by half. He chuckled and shook his head. Those qualities could make Hannah's search for a husband drag on for years. Even her beauty would not compensate for her strong character in the minds of many men. He'd have to make certain Mother didn't expect his services as chaperone to run beyond one Season.

Northcotte's sister had to be dicked in the knob to suggest she wear trousers and ride in the race. Northcotte had the right of it—he'd be disqualified, and laughed out of the Jockey Club books, if not actually banned from competing. If Hannah ever dared such a thing, David would have her sent back to Bridgethorpe Manor for the remainder of the racing season.

Shaking his head, he followed the pretty blonde in the direction of the paddock, where he found Knightwick leaning on the upper rail of the fence. Peter and Triton loped around the space, getting warmed up before the races began. The three-year-old horse's gait was long and even, covering the ground with no effort.

As he reached the fence, David slapped Knightwick on the shoulder. "I believe we have the winning horse this year."

"You've said as much these three years past," Knightwick replied with a teasing grin.

"But this year I'm right. Triton has the heart of a winner. He loves to be out front. Start him behind the other colts and he'll run that much faster to best them."

Knightwick shook his head. "His chest is narrow, he's willful and as likely to turn in the opposite direction as run the course. We never should have bred his dam. I'm rather surprised she let the Black Knight close enough to cover her."

"You're nit-picking. Triton is the horse we've been waiting for."

Neither brother completed the thought aloud...Triton was the horse they were counting on to save their stables after the death of Zephyr, their father's prize-winning stud, six years ago.

David absently tapped his fingers on the fence rail while observing the other animals circling before them. "Did the trip to London with Mother and Hannah pass uneventfully?"

"Yes. Hannah chattered the entire trip." Knightwick offered his brother a wry glance. "Rather convenient of you to leave a week early so you couldn't accompany them."

David grunted. "I promised Mother I'd arrive in Town in time for Hannah's first ball, and would attend as many assemblies as I can. But first she must be outfitted, presented in court and all that sort of feminine thing. I'm not going to miss a race meeting this spring, not when I'm so confident in Triton."

"I'll wager Mother said you are too much like Father in that."

Laughing, he agreed. "I ask you, what purpose do I have in London? Mother is there to chaperone. I've no wish to see which ladies are on the hunt. Nor do I care to be packed into the crowded assemblies filled with the stench of too many bodies and liberally applied perfumes. I'd much rather be in a stall filled with the more natural scent of _eau de cheval_."

Knightwick glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "Maybe you'll find one of those bodies belongs to a lady you wish to know better."

"Not bloody likely. You have yet to take a bride, and you're the one with the responsibilities. My only concern is this." He waved an arm at Triton. "He and Lumley's Lass will be my primary focus until the final race meeting this year."

Knightwick made a strangled noise and straightened, staring across the paddock. "What is he doing here?"

Without looking, David knew whom his brother had spotted. "I wondered the same thing. From what I overheard, it appears Northcotte has a horse entered in one of the courses today."

"Why did the Jockey Club allow him to enter?"

"What reason do they have to block him? No one charged him with anything. He can race any horse he owns, just like the rest of us."

Rubbing the back of his hand across his mouth, as if wiping away a bad taste, Knightwick said, "I don't trust him. Tell Peter to stay with Triton at all times, even sleep in the stalls. I'll go find Nick and make sure he stays with Lass."

"You can't think he'd be foolish enough to try anything after the inquiry last year."

"Someone stole Zephyr six years ago and then killed him, and two of our horses turned up sick last year. I don't know who is behind it, but we can't take any chances. We must be on our guard whether Northcotte is at a race meeting or not."

Lady Joanna Hurst stood at the empty stall where she'd left her three-year-old colt, Patriot, a short while earlier. The groom's uniform was missing along with her horse. "Robert," she spat out as if it were a curse. She tossed aside the trousers she'd stolen from her brother's room at the inn. Robert had followed through on his words and found someone to ride Patriot.

What an inopportune time for him to begin following through on anything! All her work training Patriot would be for naught if Robert prevented her from riding him in the race. She was certain she could pass herself off to the officials as a young lad. Her own mother had mistaken her for a stable boy often enough when she wore trousers to work with the horses.

Mama had barred her from entering the stables for a week after the first time she found her thus, but as Mama rarely ventured down there, she didn't see Joanna return to work the next day. To train a horse properly, one must sit astride. There was no way around it. And wearing trousers was the only way to sit correctly.

None of that mattered at the moment, however. Patriot must win today. Her horse would do anything she asked of it, except be ridden by a groom he didn't know. She searched her mind for something she could do to help her horse through the change in rider at this late hour, but came up empty.

Grateful the mud from recent rains had dried, Joanna rushed off as quickly as her boot heels would allow in the rough dirt. It was too late to convince Robert to let her ride, but perhaps talking to Patriot would calm him. Patriot always listened to her.

Unlike her brother, the horse had some sense.

As luck would have it, Robert was talking to a pair of men near the paddock. She bit back an indelicate curse she'd learned from the grooms. She had to keep her temper controlled. Schooling her features into a smile suitable for the most fashionable drawing room, she strolled up and slipped her hand around her brother's arm. She spoke in a voice rich with treacle. "There you are, brother. I've been searching for you."

The look he slanted warned her against causing a disruption. She batted her lashes in response. "I'm so excited to watch our horse compete. I couldn't sit any longer. I had to come look for him."

The other two gentlemen nodded. "The thrill of the race is undeniable," one agreed.

She didn't recognize them. They appeared to be a few years beyond her brother's thirty years. The second man, a thin, dark-haired scarecrow with white side-whiskers, peered down his hawkish nose at her and lifted an imperial brow, but said nothing.

Robert patted her fingers with enough force to ring out like a slap. "A lady doesn't belong here by the paddock. You might damage those lovely kidskin boots I bought you. Mother must be wondering where you are."

He looked across the paddock toward the grandstands. Suddenly his features went slack and he cursed beneath his breath. Joanna followed his line of sight and spied two men who appeared to be watching their little group. She could make out their features, but didn't recognize them. Turning to question Robert, she was interrupted before she had the chance to speak.

Her brother took her arm roughly and nodded to his companions. "Gentlemen, I'll look for you after the event. If you will excuse me, I must make certain my mother does not want for anything. Come along, Joanna, dear."

As if she had any choice. She took two steps for each of her brother's strides and still she was being dragged. "Please slow down. Who were those men you were speaking with?"

"Business associates. No one you need know. You must at least make a pretense at behaving like a lady when we are in public, if you are ever to marry. I'll tell Mother you are to remain at her side, or you won't be allowed to attend any future race meetings."

_Allowed to attend_ ...the very words made her blood boil. Just a few years ago, Robert was her playmate, or so he let her believe. The distance in their ages meant they hadn't truly been close, with him away at school by the time she was old enough to remember. But when he was home, he'd taught her chess and various card games and made her feel important. He often rode the countryside with her and never once chastised her for riding astride.

Lately she felt more like an obligation, one he was searching to end. The pressure he put on her to marry was quite unbearable. And the restrictions he imposed on her time with their horses were her biggest concern. A life without horses was truly not to be borne.

"Robert, please let me catch my breath. Mama will assume I am ill if I appear before her flushed and breathless." She tugged again on the arm he still gripped.

His hand relaxed. "I'm sorry. But I'm only looking out for your best interests."

"My best interests would be met by having Patriot win today."

"As would mine, but I'll not allow you to ride him in the race, so this is the end of that discussion. A disqualification would be worse than a loss, going forward. Now, there is Mother in the coffee house, sitting at the window. Please humor me and stay with her until I come for you both at the end of the day. Wallis will escort you two to the grandstand when it's time for Patriot's match."

Joanna bit her tongue on all the retorts that came to mind. Of course Robert would send his groom to take them to watch the race, and not be bothered to do so himself. Just more proof she was a burden and not a pleasant companion. She entered the crowded eating establishment and made her way to the small table where Mama sat with her maid. Letting go of the last of her frustrations, Joanna smiled at them. "How are the scones? Did you save me any?"

"Of course, dear girl." Her mother's sweet, round face looked pale in the morning light streaming through the window. Her blue eyes seemed as faded as the blonde hair showing beneath the edges of the black bonnet she'd continued to wear after her year of mourning had passed. "I admit, however, I was tempted to eat these last two if you hadn't arrived soon."

Mama poured tea for Joanna and handed her the cup. When they'd left the inn that morning, Joanna told her mother she would meet her shortly after checking on Patriot. Discovering Bruce was ill, followed by her muddled attempt to replace him as rider in the race, delayed her more than an hour. Mama must have requested a fresh pot of tea, as the drink was still quite warm, and it took away the chill of the morning air.

"How is your horse this morning?" Mama didn't understand Joanna's passion, but she humored it.

"He's frisky and eager to run. But his groom isn't. I fear Patriot won't perform well with another boy on his back."

"Oh, dear. And you've put so much time in his training. But this is only the first of many races. He'll have his day."

Yes, Patriot would do well in the future, but her main concern was whether Robert would continue to let her attend race meetings, or if she must wait to hear reports of his activities. She would simply expire from worry if she couldn't watch Patriot compete. She glanced at the clock on the wall, then sighed. She still had hours to wait for the racing to begin.

Joanna contemplated her mother again. The dark circles beneath her eyes were not as prominent today. "I'm very pleased you came with me to the race meeting."

"I always enjoyed the races with your father. I'm happy to chaperone you here."

Her words sounded earnest enough, and her face didn't contradict them, but given the weeks where Mother would not even join them for meals, Joanna wondered what had brought about this gay mood. She would not press the issue, however. She would simply enjoy her mother's company for as long as she had it.
**Other Books by Aileen Fish**

_Excerpts and buy links are available at_ http://aileenfish.com/books.html

Immortal Temptress

May you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you're dead.

Enya's job is to escort the dying on their final journey, to make sure their souls get to heaven before a demon can steal their bodies. For centuries she has done this without emotion, until the body in question belongs to Kane Sullivan. Not only does she desire his rock-hard body, she can't bear the thought of him dying. But she's not supposed to become emotionally involved in a death.

Kane's sudden run of near-fatal accidents always happen when Enya is present. She might be hot, but he's not willing to die to get to know her. Then he discovers she's fighting for his soul. That damned immortal temptress might be the death of him.

Renegade Wolf

When Stephanie shifts into wolf form for the first time on live TV, she flees to the one man who can protect her from were-hunters, Micah Salway. As attracted as she'd been to him four years ago when they'd met, she'd run scared at the changes he awakened in her after just one kiss. Was it possible he'd turned her into a werewolf?

Micah can hide Stephanie in the caves known as Devil's Promenade, but the dangers there are worse than facing down the hunter. His choices are few when faced with keeping Stephanie alive: fight the hunter alone or kiss the asses of his former pack-mates and ask for help. His wolf had claimed her the night they met. There was no way he would lose her again.

A Bride for CHristmas

When Nash Sinclair sees Lady Juliana holding their newborn nephew in her arms, he decides it is time he took a wife. Juliana, however, insists only a man who slays dragons would suit, and since dragons don't exist, neither does her ideal beau. Not one to turn away from a challenge, Nash enlists the aid of his nieces and nephews in a scheme sure to win Lady Juliana's heart.

The Mistletoe Mishap

When Robert Wilmot, Viscount Alderton, catches his intended betrothed, Lady Caroline Stone, under the mistletoe, he can't resist stealing a kiss. He's quite surprised to discover her cousin, Isabella Stone, in his arms. And more surprised at how much he enjoyed kissing her. Now he must decide if marriage to Lady Caroline is truly what he wants, or if he should go against their families' wishes and pursue Isabella.

**The Viscount's Sweet Temptation** (In A Summons from Yorkshire anthology)

Lady Harriet Thornhill knows the summons from her grandfather means he's decided whom she must marry. Determined that she'd only marry a man of her choosing, she stows away in her friend's father's carriage, only to find herself alone with young Archibald Napier,Viscount Morley.

Morley's plans for a quiet Christmas vanish when he discovers the sweet young lady hiding under the blankets in his carriage. As she claims an acquaintance with his sister, he feels duty-bound to see her safely back to her family.

A broken carriage wheel leaves them stranded, and Harriet's reputation is at stake. Morley's not ready to take a wife, until he's told he wouldn't be a suitable husband for her. With memories of her sweet, tempting kiss filling his thoughts, he prepares to fight for the hand of the woman he believes he could love.

**The Lives of Jon McCracken** (print and ebook)

Reincarnation. A guardian angel on steroids. A woman who claims to be writing about his lives.

The minute he meets Gabi Peters, Jon McCracken seriously questions his decision to move to California. This isn't the change he was looking for; this is an E-ticket ride through Fantasyland. Gabi would be a hot catch if she wasn't crazy. But she spends her free time recapturing memories of a young woman who died decades before Gabi was born. She visits her past lives like most women read a favorite romance novel. How does a guy compete with the ghost of a small-town war hero who died for his country?

When his oversoul-the guardian angel on steroids-shows him the changes he has to make in his past lives in order to clear the karma affecting this one, he's forced to ask Gabi for help. Together they dig through a series of lives looking for answers, and for a chance at happily ever after.

**A Grand Beginning** (In Love Everlasting anthology)

A piano brings together two people with a common interest in old tunes. Widowed Mary Margaret is content on her own until she begins singing along with new neighbor Ed. Is it ever too late to start something new?

**Passings in the Night** (In Love Everlasting anthology)

A random meeting with a secret childhood crush brings startling revelations and the possibility of a new romance. Chrissy never expected her hard-earned self esteem to be challenged by still-hunky Jake, who asks her out.

The Incorrigible Mr. Lumley

_Stubborn. Hard-headed. Single-minded._ The qualities that make David Lumley a successful horse breeder are put to work befriending Lady Joanna Hurst with less than noble intentions. He's tenacious in his pursuit of the answers he seeks.

Lady Joanna falls fast and hard for the handsome, witty and charming Mr. Lumley after her brother's ultimatum to find a husband by the end of the Season. He is everything she imagined a husband could be, and more. Blissfully unaware of the conflict between their fathers, she believes he'll declare his love soon. Then she overhears a conversation between Mr. Lumley and her brother, and all of Mr. Lumley's tenacity will be needed if he's to win back her heart.

A Pretense of Love

Blush sensuality level This is a sweet romance (kisses only, no sexual content).

Twenty-two-year-old Jean's best chance of finding a husband is behind her. When her brother's friend offers to pay for a Season in London in exchange for pretending to be his betrothed, she sees it as a miracle.

Ben needed a fiancée to convince his dying grandfather that he has settled down and is capable of inheriting and running his business and estate. But he didn't consider how spending six weeks with Jane would make her necessary to his happiness. Now she's in London and he's in agony. A gentleman never reneges on an agreement...unless his heart is broken.

A Blush® Regency romance from Ellora's Cave
**About the Author**

Aileen Fish is a multi-published author under several pen names, with stories ranging from historical to paranormal, or both, and heat levels from sweet to scorching. She is also an avid quilter and auto racing fan who finds there aren't enough hours in a day/week/lifetime to stay up with her "to do" list. There is always another quilt or story begging to steal away attention from the others. When she has a spare moment she enjoys spending time with her two daughters and their families.

Stay up to date with book releases at her website http://aileenfish.com or on  Facebook

Do you like your romance steamier? Check out http://arithatcher.com!
