Reason to Wed (The Distinguished Rogues Book 7) (2 page)

“I believe you wholeheartedly.” He leaned closer, bracing one hand on the doorframe beside her head so she was partially trapped by his body. “In fact, I’m considering leaving the matter of who should be in that position in your capable hands.”

She stared at him in shock. “You’d let me choose your wife for you?”

“Well, perhaps not a wife.” He grinned and his attention dropped to her bust. “But I’m open to hearing your suggestion for my next lover. I seem to have the worst luck in that area and you seem to have developed an interest in those I take to my bed.”

Esme laughed at his absurd suggestion and ignored the overwhelming urge to unbutton her gown for him. She did not lead a man on while involved with another, even if that
other
was leading her on a merry chase tonight. “You hardly need advice on that. Any pair of breasts will do. But next time, if the lady claims she’s carrying your child, at least find out for sure she’s speaking truthfully
before
you request a special license.”

“Breasts come attached to the lady.” He sighed again and drew back. “Given my near miss, I’m no longer confident I’ve the patience for marriage.”

Last year, Esme had formed a suspicion about Lord Windermere, what set him to sigh so often when someone married or was heard to have fathered a son or daughter. He implied he lacked patience, but that probably wasn’t true. There were countless other gentlemen of their acquaintance with both legitimate and illegitimate children attached to their names. Lord Windermere had not lived the life of a saint, but he had no children of his own that Esme had ever learned of.

She could sympathize with his situation, though she’d never let on or embarrass him by speaking of it. At his age, nearing three and forty years, he must have begun to worry for the succession, since his brother appeared even less ready to settle down than he was. After that, the estate and title fell to a cousin who hadn’t the bearing of an earl, in her opinion, although he did possess a sweet wife and two sons already.

She didn’t know what to say to make him feel better anyway because nothing really could. She’d long since accepted her own barren state as a certainty. “Things might be different with the right woman,” she suggested gently. At least that is what well-meaning family had always advised her.

He shook his head then assumed the warm expression so common for him that lit up his eyes so brightly she wanted to draw closer. “So, are you going to tell me what you were looking for?”

She glanced away, glad he’d changed the subject and that the uncomfortable personal conversation between them was over. She wouldn’t confide in him about her exasperation with her lover, but Windermere had invited Meriwether knowing they were intimately involved. It should have been clear to him whom she’d be looking for. “I’ll let you get back to tending your guests and charming your next dance partner.”

He sighed dramatically. “You’re a cruel woman but you are correct. I have obligations. Until we meet again.”

Esme turned on her heel and left the library and Lord Windermere behind. If not for the lingering feeling of shared sadness, she didn’t plan to think of him again tonight.

Two

Richard Hill, third Earl of Windermere, prowled his home, checking that everyone he’d invited to his house party ball was happy and felt welcome. The Gloucestershire estate was his pride and joy, and his annual summer event that had begun as just a few brief days with friends now stretched to a week or more, depending on the weather and the guests’ willingness to be entertained.

He didn’t mind other people enjoying the comforts of his home and his beds. He hoped to send each guest away in a better mood than when they’d first arrived. The season of balls and routes in London wearied a man, and at his age, he’d come to think of comfort first. Richard hosted his annual gathering as a means to foster deeper friendships in society and also to provide a respite from the pressures of life, so he never hurried anyone to be on their way and overlooked a great many indiscretions.

Bed hopping was a common practice among those who’d not married for love or had yet to find the one who centered their world. The anticipation of adventurous sex with no strings attached or expectations of marriage was an added bonus most of his guests took full advantage of. Richard had always indulged in the past, but this year he’d adjusted his expectations a little higher.

He needed a son more than a casual fling, but fatherhood was proving elusive, as was settling on a suitable bride to wed first. He would have almost blundered, if not for Esme. He’d thought Eleanor loved him, but she had lied to him about a babe—and everything else, he’d soon discovered.

He’d never felt more angry or humiliated as he had then.

Esme
was his secondary goal for this year’s party. He needed to make amends for the public spectacle he’d made of himself where she was concerned. Esme might often be a prickly, managing wench, whose opinion frequently differed from his own, but that was as far as any discord went between them. His outburst in Town over Eleanor’s scheme had caused Lady Heathcote to lose support among the
ton
, and he was annoyed by the whispers of a broken affair between them. He’d not expected such a ridiculous assumption to be believed and spread about. By inviting Esme to the estate for the party, he intended to prove to one and all how ridiculous any falling out had been.

As he passed close to the front hall doorway, he was hailed by a familiar voice.

“Windermere, there you are, and a sight for sore eyes indeed in this mad crush.”

Richard hurried forward and embraced his cousin, Mr. Adrian Hill. “I expected you both days ago,” he told the man. “What kept you?”

When they drew apart, Hill’s wife Carolyn stepped forward to kiss his cheek. “We spent a few days in Berkeley, taking in the sights, which made us a bit later than we’d hoped.”

“It’s lovely there, so I can understand the attraction to linger.” He smiled. He’d only fleetingly wondered about their delay, and since he could see all was well with them, he wouldn’t worry about them again. “I trust the servants are seeing your luggage is taken upstairs to your usual rooms.”

“Collins assured us it would be done immediately.” Carolyn craned her neck to gawk at the guests. After a moment, her hand flew to her hair. “I must look a sight arriving in the middle of a ball wearing a carriage dress.”

“You look lovely.” Richard squeezed her arm then led them to the base of the stairs so they could retreat to their rooms and change for the ball. Unless… He turned to them. “I say, if you don’t feel up to joining us for dancing tonight after the long day of travel, I completely understand. There is another smaller fete later this week too.”

Carolyn smiled, her shoulders sagging. “You would not mind?”

Richard liked his cousin’s wife very much so he nodded. She hated to let anyone down, but she always seemed fearful of disappointing him particularly. He’d no idea why. “I will catch up with you both tomorrow I am sure. Ask a footman to deliver a supper if you’re hungry. There should be spirits aplenty in your room.”

“Thank you, but we will both join the guests as soon as we have changed,” Hill advised, straightened his shoulders as he glanced around the hall to see who was in attendance.

“Yes, of course, my dear,” Carolyn quickly murmured, chin dropping.

Hill shook his hand and swiftly led his wife upstairs, an arm curled protectively about her back. Richard followed their progress with a heavy heart. They had actually met here under his roof and had been inseparable ever since their marriage. However, his cousin liked to do things his way, despite his wife’s opposite feelings or rather obvious exhaustion.

Avery joined him and draped an arm about his shoulders. “No luck, still, in luring her away from Adrian’s side,” he whispered.

“Avery, do stop talking nonsense. She appears to be tired and I was merely concerned.” He threw off Avery’s embrace. “I’d never be interested in our cousin’s wife and I strongly suggest, again, that you don’t let anyone else think so either. She’s too devoted to Adrian to allow anything improper.”

“She likes you, for some strange reason.” His brother shrugged. “But the more the merrier has always been my motto.”

“And doesn’t every woman who accepts an invitation into your bed come to regret it later.” Richard pursed his lips and glanced about to check who was nearby. “Stay away from her and find yourself a wife. A legal wife, rather than the family nonsense. You might just need an heir before too long.”

Avery’s eyebrows shot up. “It’s you who needs the heir, not me.”

“That there isn’t one already should be a warning to us both.” Why lie to his brother? It wasn’t as if they hadn’t discussed marriage and babies, the pressing need for them, before. He was getting a bit long in the tooth for having never sired a child.

Avery frowned at him. “Why do you resist the family traditions and go out to capture a bride?”

“The family traditions are perverse,” he insisted, scowling at the idea. He drew close to his brother. “I will
not
abduct a woman, chain her to a tree stump, and fuck her while she hangs there helpless. That is not my idea of how to begin a
loving
marriage.”

“Don’t criticize what you haven’t tried.” Avery smirked. “I, however, will take full advantage of the excitement our family traditions inspire in the females of my acquaintance without the hindrance of a real marriage. You don’t have to complete
all
that the ritual entails. What’s a bit of dangling between friends, eh?”

“I won’t do it.” Richard stalked away, dissatisfaction gripping him. By tradition, the titleholder and heirs of the Windermere estate were to abduct, seduce and consummate their relationship in the forest on the east of the estate before they legally wed. In the dead of night, of all times. Richard had been sired in that manner, born four months after the wedding, as had his father and every earl before him for six generations. Even his cousin Adrian had taken his Carolyn to the wishing tree in pursuit of his heir. Nine months later, Carolyn was delivered of a son and Adrian had been smug ever since.

It was all nonsense, of course, that such a ritual would ensure the succession. Perpetuating the myth was something he’d never, ever subject a woman to. He wanted the practice to die with him.

He forced his disgust away and concentrated instead on being a good host. Occasionally, he saw Esme flitting about the crowd ahead of him, but for the most part she continued to keep a distance. She had not made it easy on him when he’d apologized. He’d been a fool, and a rude one, and she made no effort to hide her amusement.

Damn vexing wench.
Always one step ahead of him no matter how hard he tried not to be trailing behind. She was a woman of passionate opinion and he never backed down without reason. Their frequent debates had gained notoriety for the
ton
, which was likely why society had assumed they were engaged in a heated affair that had turned sour as he’d stormed away from her London residence without his horse.

She’d been so right about his butler though. Oswin wasn’t a young man anymore, and the late nights of the party and demanding guests were already taking a toll on his health. The man hinted he’d remain at his post until Richard had his heir, too, which was another worry. How much longer could it take to fall in love and make an heir the right way?

He found Esme in the crowd again. Despite the smile she bestowed on those around her, she seemed unhappy, and it surprised him that he noticed. She was usually bubbling over with energy when she was around the friends they shared.

He moved toward her, drawn in a way he wasn’t used to. Meriwether was thankfully elsewhere, boring others with his tedious quest for a private guard in London. For the life of him, Richard could not work out why Esme was with the man. They must have next to nothing in common besides sex. “Ladies, I do hope you are having a pleasant evening.”

Lady Heathcote promised she was but became distracted by another guest and turned away. He stared at her graceful back a moment, admiring the lovely curves before him and her pale-blonde hair fashioned into an elaborate style on the top of her head. She was the standard many young ladies should aspire too. She was never without a clever quip; never without her composure intact, no matter the circumstance.

That left him with Lady Ames for company. “Will you honor me with a dance tonight, Harriet?”

“At least you ask,” she muttered under her breath before handing over the little cards his sister had passed out to all the ladies for tonight’s event. Harriet’s card was bare, not even Avery’s name marked upon it, so he claimed the next set and a later one, and remained to converse with her until their dance was at last called.

Harriet had been coming to his estate for many years and while they were not particularly close, never once intimate, she had been his brother’s longest romantic partner and he genuinely liked having her here. However, as they settled into the dance, he couldn’t dismiss his partner’s distraction. She sighed a great deal more than was required of the chore of dancing with him. He was concerned enough to ask about her current mood. “What’s wrong?”

“Absolutely nothing, my lord,” she responded quickly, a touch more bite to her words than called for. Harriet was not much like Esme, who ordinarily expressed every single disappointment she came across openly to him. She usually hid her feelings much better. “I’m having a lovely evening. Jillian has outdone herself on your behalf.”