All Marcus had wanted was five minutes at breakfast to get to know Miss Harkstead better. When that had failed miserably, thanks to everyone else, he had hoped he might be able to grab some time for a quiet chat during the interminable shopping trip to the village, but he had been thwarted at every turn by every other young lady present, all of whom were now determined to do whatever it took to outshine her, or to scupper his attempts even to exchange a few mere pleasantries with her without a vast audience.
A similarly frustrating evening of the dreaded wassailing loomed before him, and already he was at his wits’ end. The herd of duke-snaring husband-hunters now circled him on the driveaway and there was still no sign of the object of his fascination.
But her aunt Penelope was there. Front and centre with her daughter in tow, practically glued to his side and doing her utmost to convince him that her child was the woman of his dreams.
‘Oh, you really must hear her sing, Your Grace. My Honoria has the voice of a nightingale. Many people have commented upon it. Perhaps tonight, if we place her next to you during the carolling, you will hear her. She has such a talent for—’
‘Sorry to interrupt. Urgent estate business...’
Julius grabbed his arm and pulled him away, striding from the suffocating crowd at speed towards the stables.
‘Thank you! I owe you. Again.’
‘You most certainly do.’
His relief at being saved was temporary. ‘That doesn’t mean I am not still peeved at you for this morning.’
‘I cannot think what for,’ Julius said.
How to put it without sounding pathetic and jealous? ‘For having so much fun at my expense over breakfast and for flirting outrageously with all the ladies throughout it. The latter was quite unnecessary, Julius, and frankly a bit unseemly so early in the day.’
‘As I recall, I only flirted with Miss Harkstead during breakfast.’ Clearly on a mission, Julius was striding across the lawn, but not so fast that Marcus didn’t see his smug grin. ‘You can hardly blame me—she is uncommonly pretty. And, for the record, I thoroughly intend to flirt with her some more tonight.’
The temptation to grab him and punch him on the nose was overwhelming.
‘I don’t think she would appreciate it.’
‘Surely you mean that you wouldn’t appreciate it, big brother?’
Marcus opened his mouth to speak and then promptly shut it until he could temper his words. Silently he fumed, only to watch his brother’s smug grin being replaced by a bark of laughter.
‘I knew it!’ He waved his finger too close to Marcus’s face. ‘Your blatant jealousy has revealed the truth. You are smitten with her! Admit it.’
‘I am not smitten.’
Yes, he was. And the fact that he was, so soon, was ridiculously rash, when he was never rash.
‘I hardly know her.’
But he desperately wanted to. Everything. Every last fascinating minute detail.
‘We have exchanged a few pleasantries over two meals. That is all. And during one of those I hardly got to say two words to her, thanks to you, our mother and that dreadful Lady Broadstairs.’
‘Only twice?’ His brother feigned unconvincing innocence. ‘Gibson must be mistaken, then, because he said the pair of you were chatting for ages yesterday. In the library...’ Those damn eyebrows rose again. ‘Completely unchaperoned.’
‘I really do not appreciate what you are insinuating!’
‘Did you kiss her?’ His brother’s eyebrows wiggled suggestively. ‘You know Mama’s views on kissing. It only takes one kiss to recognise the one.’
This needed to be nipped in the bud—and then he would hunt down Gibson like a dog and give him a piece of his mind too. Butlers were supposed to be discreet and loyal, not tittle-tattle turncoats who spread gossip to the rest of the family.
‘Absolutely nothing untoward occurred during that brief meeting. I will have you know I was a perfect gentleman!’
His brother rolled his eyes. ‘Of course you were. Sadly, I expected nothing less.’
‘Sadly?’
Julius stopped dead on the pathway to the stable yard, so abruptly Marcus almost crashed into him, and then had the gall to look annoyed.
‘Heaven forbid you should act on impulse once in a while! Everything always has to be so measured and pragmatic and blasted sensible for you!’
To add insult to injury he grabbed Marcus by the shoulders and shook him.
‘Sometimes you need to forget you are a blasted duke!’
Marcus prodded his brother firmly in the chest. ‘I am a blasted duke! A job with such crushing responsibilities I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Unfortunately, it is not something I can ever forget!’
‘I know, but...’ Julius sighed as he let go. ‘What if Mama is right? What if there is one special person for each of us? Where the connection is instant and undeniable and draws you like a magnet? Meant to be? Fate...’
‘Have you been at the wassail early?’ Marcus pointed to the shadowy crowd of ladies still watching them from the driveway. ‘Rabid husband-hunters, the lot of them! All dragged here by their mamas to entice and then trap us both!’
‘I appreciate that one of Mother’s dreaded house parties isn’t the ideal place to meet the woman of your dreams, big brother—largely because Mama will become unbearable on the back of it and make my life intolerable as a result—but...’ He huffed out a breath. ‘I’ve seen the way you look at Miss Harkstead and she at you...’
Miss Harkstead had been looking at him? His heart instantly swelled in his chest at the thought.
‘Wouldn’t it be awful if you were so sensible, so measured, so pragmatic and averse to the idea, purely on principle, that you missed the chance fate has thrown at you?’
‘Surely you, of all people, do not believe all Mother’s fairy tale nonsense about fate and history repeating itself? Love at first sight is a myth, Julius. I hardly know her.’
Although, bizarrely, he felt he did. Know all that truly mattered at least.
‘Or at least I know nothing beyond the fact she seems refreshingly different.’
And lovely and clever and gloriously unimpressed with his title...
‘Nor will you, unless you take a chance. You have a few hours, Marcus. Tonight, tomorrow, one ball, and then she leaves first thing the next morning with everyone else. Don’t waste them. Seize the day! Take some time to really get to know her and at least explore the possibility before you dismiss it completely.’
And there was the rub.
‘In case it has escaped your notice, this house is teeming with eager ladies all doing their level best to monopolise my every spare second. Amongst all that, do you seriously think I will have the time or the privacy to get to know any one of them better.’
‘Do you think I haven’t considered that?’ Julius’s answering grin was smug. ‘I have a contingency plan all worked out. In fact, if my exceptionally cunning plan works, you will owe me such a huge debt of gratitude I fully intend to take the whole of Mother’s next dratted house party off.’
‘I don’t follow...’ But suddenly he desperately wanted to.
‘Lady Trumble, deaf Lady Audley and a couple of the other old dears aren’t going to go wassailing, because the walk is too far for their legs. They are going to stay behind at the house. Which means either Miss Harkstead remains with them, as Lady Trumble’s companion, or she joins the circus over there and you will never have a moment’s peace together.’
‘So?’
‘So I have come up with a brilliant idea to include the old dears in the wassailing festivities whilst also giving you some time alone with the bewitching Miss Harkstead.’
‘She’s not my Miss Harkstead—’ He found himself talking to his brother’s gloved hand.
‘I am well aware of that fact, cretin. Just as I am well aware of the fact you would very much like her to be. Therefore, you either grab the bull by the horns, and commit yourself to riding upon it for the next few hours, or regret it for the rest of your sensible, measured, pragmatic and miserable life.’
A depressing scenario indeed.
‘What’s the plan?’
‘I have arranged for the old dears to be driven to and from the village by carriage. Lady Trumble has agreed with me that she cannot possibly ride in that carriage without her indispensable companion by her side. But, as there are only four seats in the carriage, Miss Harkstead will have to ride alongside the coachman.’
‘I still don’t follow.’
‘That is because I have yet to apprise you of the shocking calamity which has necessitated my dragging you so unceremoniously away from all those hideous husband-hunters.’
Julius slapped him firmly on the back, obviously very pleased with his own ingenuity.
‘In a cruel coincidence, the entire staff of the stables have been laid low, after eating something which didn’t agree with them, and there is nobody fit enough to drive the elderly ladies tonight. But I know that you, being selfless, pragmatic and egalitarian, will want to offer to step in and save the day and drive them yourself.’
Which would give him a blissfully solitary fifteen minutes with Miss Harkstead beside him on the way there, and another fifteen on the way back.
‘I suppose it is only right that I drive them—as the head of this household, the stables and our guests are ultimately my responsibility after all.’
‘That’s the spirt!’ Julius grinned as he gazed towards the stables. ‘I shan’t accompany you. The ladies are waiting in the carriage for the hero of the hour to save the day, and they would probably unanimously much prefer me to do it if I present them with the option, so you’d best get cracking while I give all the other ladies the bad news. We will meet you in the village.’
‘Don’t hurry.’
‘I won’t—and I would advise you to take the long way around to give Cupid a greater chance. Oh, and before I forget, I have brought you a little something which might come in handy if you do miraculously discover she is the one.’
His brother rifled in the pockets of his greatcoat before slapping something into Marcus’s gloved hand.
‘Mistletoe?’
Julius shrugged before he sauntered away. ‘Well, it is Christmas, big brother. It would be a crying shame not to make use of it. Carpe diem and all that.’