the country with her own brood of brats?”
A frown clouded his brother’s brow. “I’m afraid Viscount Darby perished in a horseback-riding accident before the wedding could take place. It was a terrible blow to all who knew him. Darby was such a decent chap.”
“Probably rode his horse off a cliff so he wouldn’t end up leg-shackled to her,” Ash muttered.
Max’s icy glare brought him up short. “That’s a bit cold, isn’t it? Even for you? Must I remind you that you’re talking about my future wife?”
Ash smirked down at his brother with deliberate insolence. “What are you going to do? Call me out for insulting her?”
Ash could tell that at the moment Max would like nothing better than to do just that. But they both knew Ash was a dead shot who could drop a charging rhinoceros in its tracks at a hundred paces.
Instead, Max chose a weapon calculated to do even more damage to Ash’s heart. “You’re the only man I know with both the brawn and the brains to carry out this mission. I want her rescued, not killed. If I send in a regiment of men with muskets blazing, the first thing her captors will do is cut her throat. Will you help me save her?”
Ash turned away from the desk, running a hand through his already tousled hair. He was trying desperately not to imagine Clarinda at the mercy of some randy sultan with a sadistic streak and an appetite for lovely green-eyed blondes. Given her refusal to curb that sharp little tongue of hers for any man, it would be a miracle if her pretty little head wasn’t already rotting on a pike in some sun-baked courtyard.
When Ash, his eyes grim and his face set in pitiless lines, turned back to his brother, few men of his acquaintance would have recognized the happy-go-lucky adventurer they knew. “Have you considered the full ramifications of what you’re asking me to do? Even if I succeed in retrieving Clar—Miss Cardew, she will be considered damaged goods. She could still be as pure as the driven snow, but who’s going to believe that after she’s spent the last several months in a place most of society would consider little more than a brothel? Not even your vaunted reputation or your standing in the Company will be able to protect her from the wagging tongues and venomous whispers of the professional gossips. If you insist on marrying her, you’ll be the laughingstock of all London. Even my exploits will pale in comparison.”
Max rose from the chair and moved to stand before the Constable landscape suspended from the ceiling of the tent. For the first time, Ash realized just how closely it resembled the countryside around Dryden Hall. It was impossible to count how many times he had seen Clarinda scampering across just such a meadow, her grubby little face wreathed in a mischievous grin, her long blond braids flying out behind her.
“I’ll deal with society when the time comes,” Max finally said. “Just bring her home to me.”
“Dear Lord,” Ash breathed as his brother’s words struck his already reeling heart a fresh blow. “You really do love her, don’t you?”
When Max turned to face him, his eyes as unguarded as Ash had ever seen them, there was no need for him to speak.
Ash shook his head. “Then may God help you.”
Feeling the inescapable weight of his brother’s gaze upon him, Ash retrieved the cheque from the desk and slipped it into his pocket. He was almost to the flap of the tent when he realized their business was not yet concluded.
He glanced back over his shoulder at Max. “You’re one of the most sought-after bachelors in all of England. Out of all the women in the world you might have loved, why her?”
Since that same question had been haunting him for nearly a decade, Ash was not surprised when his brother had no answer for him.
Chapter Three
W hat in the bloody hell is that fool doing?” Ash muttered, crouching down behind the rock and lifting the brass spyglass to his eye to get a closer look at the man
A frown clouded his brother’s brow. “I’m afraid Viscount Darby perished in a horseback-riding accident before the wedding could take place. It was a terrible blow to all who knew him. Darby was such a decent chap.”
“Probably rode his horse off a cliff so he wouldn’t end up leg-shackled to her,” Ash muttered.
Max’s icy glare brought him up short. “That’s a bit cold, isn’t it? Even for you? Must I remind you that you’re talking about my future wife?”
Ash smirked down at his brother with deliberate insolence. “What are you going to do? Call me out for insulting her?”
Ash could tell that at the moment Max would like nothing better than to do just that. But they both knew Ash was a dead shot who could drop a charging rhinoceros in its tracks at a hundred paces.
Instead, Max chose a weapon calculated to do even more damage to Ash’s heart. “You’re the only man I know with both the brawn and the brains to carry out this mission. I want her rescued, not killed. If I send in a regiment of men with muskets blazing, the first thing her captors will do is cut her throat. Will you help me save her?”
Ash turned away from the desk, running a hand through his already tousled hair. He was trying desperately not to imagine Clarinda at the mercy of some randy sultan with a sadistic streak and an appetite for lovely green-eyed blondes. Given her refusal to curb that sharp little tongue of hers for any man, it would be a miracle if her pretty little head wasn’t already rotting on a pike in some sun-baked courtyard.
When Ash, his eyes grim and his face set in pitiless lines, turned back to his brother, few men of his acquaintance would have recognized the happy-go-lucky adventurer they knew. “Have you considered the full ramifications of what you’re asking me to do? Even if I succeed in retrieving Clar—Miss Cardew, she will be considered damaged goods. She could still be as pure as the driven snow, but who’s going to believe that after she’s spent the last several months in a place most of society would consider little more than a brothel? Not even your vaunted reputation or your standing in the Company will be able to protect her from the wagging tongues and venomous whispers of the professional gossips. If you insist on marrying her, you’ll be the laughingstock of all London. Even my exploits will pale in comparison.”
Max rose from the chair and moved to stand before the Constable landscape suspended from the ceiling of the tent. For the first time, Ash realized just how closely it resembled the countryside around Dryden Hall. It was impossible to count how many times he had seen Clarinda scampering across just such a meadow, her grubby little face wreathed in a mischievous grin, her long blond braids flying out behind her.
“I’ll deal with society when the time comes,” Max finally said. “Just bring her home to me.”
“Dear Lord,” Ash breathed as his brother’s words struck his already reeling heart a fresh blow. “You really do love her, don’t you?”
When Max turned to face him, his eyes as unguarded as Ash had ever seen them, there was no need for him to speak.
Ash shook his head. “Then may God help you.”
Feeling the inescapable weight of his brother’s gaze upon him, Ash retrieved the cheque from the desk and slipped it into his pocket. He was almost to the flap of the tent when he realized their business was not yet concluded.
He glanced back over his shoulder at Max. “You’re one of the most sought-after bachelors in all of England. Out of all the women in the world you might have loved, why her?”
Since that same question had been haunting him for nearly a decade, Ash was not surprised when his brother had no answer for him.
Chapter Three
W hat in the bloody hell is that fool doing?” Ash muttered, crouching down behind the rock and lifting the brass spyglass to his eye to get a closer look at the man
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