Love and the Single Heiress

“Five thousand pounds.”

Andrew’s brows shot upward. “Impressive.”

“Yes. He was most anxious to meet my American partner as he spent a number of years living in your country. I’m certain he’ll seek you out before the evening is over.”

“I suppose for five thousand pounds I can work up a bit of enthusiasm.”

“Excellent. Your tone, however, and the fact that you keep looking about indicates a decided lack of curiosity about my other conversation, which was with Catherine.” Philip heaved a long sigh and flicked a bit of lint from his dark blue jacket sleeve. “Pity, as the conversation concerned you.”

“And naturally you’ll tell me, in recompense for saving your life.”

Philip’s face screwed up into a confused scowl. “If you’re referring to that incident in Egypt, I thought I’d saved your life. When did you save mine?”

“Just now. By not tossing you out headfirst through the French doors into the thorny hedges. What did Lady Catherine say?”

Philip cast a surreptitious glance around. Once assured that they weren’t in danger of being overheard, he said, “It appears you have competition.”

Andrew blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re not the only man attempting to win my sister’s favor. Apparently other men are showing interest in her.”

Andrew stared, feeling as if he’d just been slapped. Then a humorless sound pushed past his lips at his own conceit. Why hadn’t he anticipated this turn of events? Of course other men would cast their lures in Lady Catherine’s direction. He cleared his throat to locate his voice. “What sort of interest?”

“Surely an expert such as yourself should know. The usual romantic gestures. Flowers, invitations, trinkets. That sort of thing.”

Annoyance, along with a hefty dose of jealousy, smacked Andrew. “Did she indicate that she enjoyed these attentions?”

“On the contrary, she indicated that she found these gentlemen bothersome, for she has, and I quote, ‘no intention of ever compromising my independence by leg-shackling myself to another man.' I must say, my sister has become startlingly blunt of late. That, added to the headstrong streak I’ve detected in her manner lately and these other suitors…”A sympathy-filled wince pinched Philip’s features. “Not a stellar start to your wooing campaign, my friend, although I did try to warn you of that.”

Andrew brushed aside the vaguely uncomplimentary description of Lady Catherine as being blunt and headstrong. Didn’t sisters always seem that way to their brothers? However, there was no ignoring the rest, and his eyes narrowed to slits. “Who are these men?”

“Egad, Andrew, that frigid tone doesn’t bode well for the fellows, and I don’t believe I’ve ever seen that particular glare in your eyes before. Hope I’m never on the receiving end of it.” He considered for several seconds, then said, “She mentioned some village doctor. Then of course there’s the Duke of Kelby whose country estate is near her home in Little Longstone. And then there was an assortment of earls, viscounts, and the like, a few of whom are here this evening.”

“Here? This evening?”

“When did you develop this troubling habit of repeating everything I say? Yes. Here. This evening. For example, Lords Avenbury and Ferrymouth.”

“Our investors?”

“The very ones. I ask that you please remember they would no doubt withdraw their funding if you bloodied their noble noses.”

“I suppose that means knocking them onto their noble asses is also out of the question.”

“I’m afraid so, although that would make for a fine evening’s entertainment. Apparently Kingsly also made an overture toward Catherine.”

“He’s married.”

“Yes. And has a mistress. Then there’s Lord Darnell.” Philip jerked his head toward the punch bowl. “Note his besotted expression.”

Andrew turned, and his jaw clenched. Lord Darnell was handing Catherine a glass of punch and looking at her as if she were a delectable morsel from which he longed to take a nice, big bite. Several other gentlemen, Andrew noted grimly, hovered about, all wearing similar expressions.

“Looks like I’m going to need to purchase myself a broom,” Andrew muttered.

“A broom? Why is that?”

“To sweep that bastard Darnell and his friends off Lady Catherine’s porch.”

“Excellent idea. As her brother, I can’t say I like the way Darnell is looking at her.”

Andrew forced his gaze away from the group surrounding the punch bowl and looked at Philip. “Can’t say I like it myself.”

“Well then, since you’re quite capable of handling yourself, I’ll take myself off so you can proceed. I’ll send a letter once I’m a papa to let you know if the tyke is a boy or girl.”

Andrew smiled. “Please do. I’ll be anxious to know if I’m an aunt or an uncle.”

Philip laughed. “Good luck in your quest to win my doesn’t-care-to-be-won sister.” Amusement flashed in Philip’s eyes as he glanced toward the group at the punch bowl. “I’m sorry I won’t be able to witness the wooing as I’m certain it will prove very entertaining. And may the best man win.”

After seeing Philip off, Andrew started up the brick walkway to reenter the town house, anticipating finding Catherine. He hoped there would be no further interruptions-

The front door opened and a group of gentlemen exited the town house. His jaw clenched as he recognized Lords Avenbury and Ferrymouth. Both young lords were impeccably dressed, complicated cravat knots adorning their throats, their coifs artful arrangements of careless, rakish curls. Each wore large jeweled rings that glistened in the moonlight as they indulged in a bit of snuff. Andrew decided they would not look quite so well turned-out sporting swollen jaws and blackened eyes.

And that reprobate Kingsly was with them. With his paunch, puckered lips, and beady eyes, Kingsly was already a remarkably unattractive fellow, but Andrew would be more than happy to make him even uglier if he continued his pursuit of Lady Catherine.

The thin, bespectacled Lord Borthrasher looked at Andrew down his long nose. With his pointed chin and sharp eyes with their unwavering, cold stare, he reminded Andrew of a vulture. Two gentlemen Andrew did not recognize rounded out the group. The last thing Andrew wanted was to speak to any of them, but unfortunately there was no way to avoid them.

“Ah, Stanton, care to join us for a smoke?” asked Lord Kingsly, his beady eyes raking over Andrew in a way that set his teeth on edge.

“I don’t smoke.”

“Stanton, did you say?” One of the gentlemen Andrew didn’t know raised a quizzing glass and stared at him. Like his peers, this man wore perfectly tailored evening clothes, a complicated cravat and a jeweled ring. Although he was clearly older than his companions, he was surprisingly well built and broad-shouldered, leading Andrew to wonder if the man’s physique was enhanced with padding. “Been wanting to meet you, Stanton. Heard a great deal about this museum.”

“May I present his grace, the Duke of Kelby,” said Kingsly.

Ah, the suitor whose estate was near Catherine’s. Andrew offered a brief nod, only partially mollified by the fact that the duke, hearty though he appeared, resembled a carp.

“I’d hoped to meet you as well.” The other gentleman unknown to Andrew stepped forward and extended his hand. “Sidney Carmichael.”

Andrew recognized the name that Philip had mentioned as the potential investor of five thousand pounds. Of average height and build, he judged Carmichael to be in his late fifties and wearily wondered if he was but yet another suitor. He shook the man’s hand, noting the firm grip that pressed the ring he wore against Andrew’s fingers.

“I understand from Lord Greybourne that you’re American,” Mr. Carmichael said, his assessing gaze clearly taking Andrew’s measure, a favor Andrew returned.