Heart 0f Desire (Handful 0f Hearts Book 2) Read online

  Marcus shook off the memory and reached for his purse. “How much have you set me back now, Ainsley?”

  “Three.”

  Hmm. Three hundred pounds was a lot of money to lose, especially when he’d planned to win such a sum instead. Ah, well, it could have been worse. He must refrain from play now, wagering only on investments, as his uncle had admonished him the last time he had to bail him out of the River Tick. “I’ve got two on me now.” He plunked the leather bag down on the table. “I’ll call round tomorrow with the other hundred.”

  “Thousand.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Marcus stared at his friend, confused. What the devil did he—

  “It’s three thousand pounds, Marcus. Not three hundred.”

  The candlelight wavered a moment as his vision tried to dim. Three thousand pounds?

  “What do you mean?” Panic made his voice sharper than it should’ve been. “I never lost so much tonight.” Damn, he hated to question Ainsley, but he simply couldn’t be right.

  “No, it was fifteen hundred tonight.” His friend continued to put away the cards, carefully not meeting his eyes. “The rest was from Saxby’s on Tuesday and Lord Branderson’s game on Saturday last. You were out of pocket both nights, if you recall.”

  Dear God. He’d meant to get that money to Nathan the next day, but he’d no ready cash at the bank and his uncle had been from home. He was the one resource left who might lend him the sum. If he didn’t pay Ainsley, the ton would be on him like wolves on a suckling lamb. Miss Locke would likely lead the pack with a well-placed cut direct.

  “I beg your pardon, Ainsley. I meant to get the money from Uncle Parminter, but I couldn’t run him to ground. I’ll bring it around directly tomorrow morning.” God help him if his uncle refused.

  “There is a way you can take care of this matter with your uncle none the wiser.” Ainsley picked up the leather pouch and dropped it on top of the last trick Marcus had taken. “Marry my sister, and the debt is paid in full.”

  Chapter 4

  “You intend to marry him?” Kate wheeled toward her cousin, snapping her fan shut. “What are you talking about?”

  “I said what I meant, Kate. I intend to marry Viscount Finley,” Celinda said with a saucy shake of her head. “He is everything I have been looking for in a husband. I need not look further. I plan to marry him by the end of the Season.”

  “Has he said anything about speaking to your father?” Kate grasped at the first idea to pop into her head. This couldn’t be true.

  “Not yet.” Celinda chest heaved and her eyes sparkled as she watched the retreating figure of Lord Finley. Granted, he cut an excellent figure, but her cousin should not be showing such obvious interest. “But I will make a concerted effort in the next week to turn Lord Finley’s head toward me and no one else.” She eyed Finley’s back avidly as he stood, speaking with his family. “I will make sure he speaks to Papa shortly. Trust me.”

  “This is very sudden, cousin.” Kate fought to keep the panic out of her voice. “We only met him this evening, and now you intend to marry him?”

  She must find some way to distract her cousin from this rash course. Not only rash, but disastrous for her own hopes for Lord Finley. Celinda had two more Seasons ahead of her. Kate had only until August. She’d been out for two Seasons without finding a single gentleman who didn’t set her teeth on edge, had a brain in his head, or could keep her interest for more than the length of a dance. Now she had found him, or thought she had, it simply wasn’t fair that Celinda had become infatuated with him.

  “Oh, Kate.” Celinda grasped her hands, her face aglow. “When you find the man, the one man who will be your perfect match, you’ll just know. You’ll feel it in every single part of you.”

  Kate closed her eyes. What a disaster. She could hardly, in good conscience, pursue a man with whom her cousin had fallen head over heels in love. Yet she couldn’t quite give up hope yet. They didn’t know Lord Finley’s disposition toward either of them. She must wait and see what might transpire tonight and in the weeks to come. Meanwhile, she must support Celinda and say nothing of her own desires. “I hope you are correct about this, Celinda.”

  “I am. Just trust me, Kate.” Celinda all but twirled in her excitement. “Lord, look, he’s coming back.” She straightened and fluttered her fan before her face.

  Kate stood straighter as well, struggling to muster a smile as she curtsied to Lord Finley once more.

  “Ladies,” he said, bowing first to Celinda and then to Kate. “I have spoken to my mother, who says she will be delighted to issue invitations to my sister’s, Miss Dorothea Fellowes, ball a fortnight from now.” His smile took in both of them, however, his gaze rested on Celinda. “Do you recall if you are engaged? It is set for Wednesday, the 17th.”

  “I am certain I am free that evening, Lord Finley,” Kate spoke up so quickly his lordship had scarcely finished issuing the invitation.

  He smiled and nodded to her. “Splendid, Miss Locke. And you, Lady Celinda?”

  Celinda cut her gaze toward Kate then sighed. “I am afraid I cannot tell if I am engaged that evening or not, my lord. My mother accepts all my engagements. I will need to consult her before I can say with any certainty if I am free. But I do hope I will be able to attend.”

  Finley’s face showed no trace of emotion, but his eyes flickered, a hint of sadness in them. “I will await your answer then, my lady, and hope to hear favorable news.” He smiled, his hands stiff at his sides.

  Kate breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps her aunt and cousin had prior plans. That night, Lady Hever was giving a masquerade ball. She’d received an invitation, but had neglected to send a reply yet, thank goodness. From Celinda’s hedging words, Kate suspected Lady Ivor had already accepted for the masquerade. Lord Finley’s manner toward her cousin, however, led her to believe it might be a lost cause already.

  “I enjoyed our earlier dances very much, ladies,” Lord Finley began.

  From the corner of her eye, Kate caught sight of a tall, distracted gentleman heading their way, his attention fixed on her cousin. A hint of hope rose in her as Lord Halford sped toward them. Celinda’s distant cousin might just rescue Kate from witnessing Viscount Finley ask Celinda for the supper dance. At least it might encourage Finley to ask her for a dance instead and save her the embarrassment of being without a partner yet again.

  “Lady Celinda, Miss Locke. How do you do? So lovely to see you this evening.” He bowed to them and nodded ever so slightly toward Lord Finley, raising his eyebrows over fine mahogany-colored eyes.

  “Good evening, Lord Halford.” Kate dropped him a curtsy, fluttering her lashes at him. Let the viscount observe her flirting with another man and see if that drew his attention.

  “Good evening, my lord.” Celinda pursed her lips, but curtsied as well. Her innocent blue eyes shot daggers at the marquess.

  Why was she displeased with Halford? Did she think he would break up her tête-à-tête with Lord Finley?

  Abruptly, Celinda smiled and nodded to Halford. “May I present Lord Finley, my lord? He is just returned to London from America. Lord Finley, my very distant cousin, Lord Halford.”

  “My lord.” Halford bowed, staring at Lord Finley with an intense scrutiny that made Kate’s heart twist. Was something wrong with the dashing viscount? Bertie had mentioned the slave trade and now Halford looked uncharacteristically unfriendly toward the man. He certainly seemed to disapprove of Finley. The question was, why?

  “Lady Celinda, I believe you are promised to me for the next set.” He stared so hard at her that even Kate began to feel uncomfortable.

  Celinda returned his stare, a battle of wills raging until she finally sighed, and with a regretful glance at Lord Finley, said, “Yes, I believe I am, my lord.” She looked briefly from Kate to Finley and shrugged. “Will you excuse us?” She fixed a lovely smile on her face and laid her hand on Lord Halford’s arm.

  He quickly led her to the floor where a
waltz had just begun.

  Lord Finley gazed after her cousin, a wistful, if puzzled, look on his face. “I suppose she is quite the popular partner, is she not, Miss Locke?”

  “She is, my lord.” The man still watched Celinda’s progress on the floor. “It is the rare dance that she does not stand up with someone.” Kate’s sense of injustice rose up to tower over her. If Lord Finley liked a popular lady, she would make sure to seem as admired as Celinda. “Still, she might have one dance available.”

  “Do you think so?” Lord Finley’s attention swiveled back to her. “And are you engaged as well, Miss Locke?”

  Kate smiled. “I always leave one dance open, my lord, in case I find I would like to dance with a partner more than once.”

  Finley eyed her, admiration in his face. “Then if this dance is one you still have free, nothing would give me more pleasure than to have you as my partner for it.” The charming smile he gave her sent a tingle down to her toes. His cerulean eyes were spellbinding, while his deep, baritone voice set off flutterings in her heart.

  If she didn’t seize the opportunity, it might never come again. “I would be delighted, my lord. I do so love to waltz, don’t you?”

  “Indeed I do, Miss Locke.” He nodded and offered his arm.

  “Are your sisters allowed to waltz as well? Some gentlemen still believe the dance too scandalous for other than married couples.” Kate smiled up at him as she took his right hand and he placed his left at her waist.

  “How very odd, but I suppose some are still behind the times. To answer your question, Miss Locke, yes, they have all been instructed in the waltz and the two who are out have already been given permission and have danced it at least once at Almack’s.” His eyebrow rose with a quizzical air. “Why do you ask?”

  “Simply assuring myself that you are a forward thinker, my lord.” Kate laughed as they spun dizzily around the room. It was so satisfying to be proved correct at least some of the time.

  * * * *

  Marcus sat stunned, unsure he’d just heard his friend correctly. Marry Katherine Locke? He stared at Lord Ainsley, unable to form a coherent thought for the roaring in his ears, his mouth as dry as though he’d swallowed sand. “Please tell me that was a jest in very poor taste,” he finally croaked.

  Ainsley leaned back, crossing his arms. “Actually, I’m quite serious. Woo my sister, and get her to agree to be your wife. I want Kate safely and well married. She seems ill-inclined to find a man to settle down with. This is her third Season. She’ll not have another. I cannot stand by and see her left an ape leader.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Kate’s not a bad match, Haversham.”

  “Are we speaking of your sister, Katherine Locke, or a completely different Miss Locke to whom I have not yet been introduced?” Marcus narrowed his eyes. Ainsley had to be making the most elaborate jest in the history of their friendship. He wasn’t known for being a great prankster, although he’d been known to kick up a lark from time to time at Oxford. The worst of that, however, had been to replace the dean’s sugar loaf with a block of rock salt. But he’d done nothing so devious in recent years.

  “I know you and she have not gotten on well in the past, but that may have been a simple misunderstanding.”

  “Hah.” Marcus shook his head, still dazed at the suggestion. “She’s been antagonistic toward me from the beginning. You said so yourself.”

  Ainsley frowned. “And I think that childishness needs to stop. I have already spoken to her about her outrageous behavior to you this evening. She can be made to see reason.”

  Marcus scowled. He could still see Miss Locke’s piercing blue eyes as she’d sneered at him earlier. It was lunacy to think she could change. How such a beautiful woman could be so vitriolic in nature boggled his mind. He’d raised his defenses against her attacks long ago; he’d not lower them now for all the prime-goers in Prinny’s stable, nor all the gold sovereigns in Ainsley’s coffers. “I thank you for the opportunity to so discharge my debt, but I shall call around with the funds tomorrow.” He snared the pouch and stuffed it back inside his coat. It had been sheer folly to game tonight.

  “Marcus, I beg you to reconsider.” Ainsley shot out his hand and grasped his arm.

  He stared at Nathan, whose face bore a striking resemblance to his sister’s, save her features were more pleasantly softened. The color of their eyes differed, but the intriguing almond shape and high brows were the same. His jaw squared, whereas hers was gently rounded, though both were undoubtedly firm. Miss Locke’s nose was less sharp, more petite and pleasing. Her smile, though less often bestowed on him, was just as generous as his friend’s ready one. The biggest difference lay in their coloring—Ainsley’s hair lay curly and dark as midnight on his head, whereas his sister’s gleamed like a river of copper in the sun. She was a striking woman, he couldn’t deny it. But not for him.

  “I’m afraid not, old chap. Because you now feel guilty for trouncing me so thoroughly at cards, and fear you have caused my utter financial ruin, does not mean I have to sacrifice myself on the altar of your sister. Or has she made your life such a living hell that you are quite despicably seeking any means possible to rid your house of her?”

  “Neither,” Ainsley snapped, and released his hand. “Despite your less than flattering estimation of Kate, I’ve watched you and her spar and quip for years. And despite what either of you might think, I believe you are well-matched.” He raised a hand before Marcus could stutter out a protest. “The worst ton marriages are between men and women who easily tire of one another when they become bored within a year of the marriage. I have observed that men who marry women with a like temperament and interests have much more satisfying marriages than those who marry for wealth or social connections, or fleeting physical attraction. If you married Kate, you’d have all those things and more. She’d keep you on your toes.”

  “She’d keep me on my guard, you mean.” Marcus glowered at Ainsley. The man was mad. “I’d never be able to lay my head on my pillow without wondering if I’d be alive to raise it the next morning.”

  “Life would not be dull.”

  “Life would not be worth living with that harpy for a wife.” Marcus would plead if he had to. “Nathan, have you truly lost your mind? She cannot stand me.”

  “I think you sadly underestimate your own charms, Haversham.” Ainsley smiled, and a cold chill swept down Marcus’s back. “I wager if you seriously tried to woo her, she’d come around in no time at all. She’s completely aware that her time is short. I’ve told her if she can’t find a man she wants to marry, I’ll find one for her.”

  “Aha. Here’s the crux of it. You’re being your usual efficient self and trying to kill two birds with one stone. Well, I’m sorry, Ainsley, this bird is about to fly.” Marcus rose, hoping he could find a good stiff whiskey somewhere on the premises. Between the fear, the financial ruin, and a fate worse than all the fires of hell, he had a tremendous need to get completely foxed.

  “You should reconsider, Haversham. All your financial woes would be ended with a quick, ‘I do.’ Then you and Kate could take a lovely wedding trip to Brighton, say, as a wedding present from me.” Ainsley gathered the stacked deck of cards from in front of Marcus.

  “She’d drown me the first chance she got, and you know it.” Marcus sighed, snaring a card Ainsley had left on the table. He appreciated what his friend was trying to do and he’d admit some sense to his words. Miss Locke was a very eligible parti. Accomplished, witty, an excellent dancer when not stamping on his toes, and a most beautiful woman by the standards of the day, she embodied everything one might want in a wife. Her dowry alone would save him from drowning in the River Tick, not to mention the offer to cancel his substantial debt to her brother.

  Damn. If he looked at it in a logical manner, he’d be an utter fool to turn down Ainsley’s offer. The memory of Miss Locke’s narrowed eyes throwing daggers at him just now, though, kept reason in check.

  The brush of fir
e that had leaped from her when he’d pulled her close in the dance, and again later when he’d stumbled against her, had stunned him. He must give no credence nor weight to it, however. A totally natural reaction of a man to a deucedly attractive female, nothing more. The burn flared in his heart once more, and he calmly squelched it.

  “Ainsley, having given your generous offer due consideration, I fear I must decline to wed the fair Miss Locke in the interests of self-preservation. I suppose I may have to resort to manual labor to repay this debt, an action that will undoubtedly amuse your sister greatly, but at the end of the day, I think we would both rather remain unscathed as far as our lives are concerned.” He tossed the card he held toward Ainsley. It landed face up in front of his friend, revealing the Queen of Hearts.

  Ainsley shook his head as he picked it up. “Just remember, Marcus, at laborer’s wages, either alternative is likely to be a life sentence. Choose wisely, I pray you.”

  Marcus turned on his heel, determined now to raise the money and set the temptation of Miss Katherine Locke and her fortune behind him.

  Chapter 5

  Early next morning, Marcus, dressed conservatively yet impeccably, in a suit of navy superfine with a modest cravat tied very plainly, stepped into White’s in search of his uncle, Lord Parminter. Ever since his father’s death nine months ago, Marcus had allowed his uncle to oversee the family finances while he dealt with his grief and familiarized himself with the workings of the earldom.

  Marcus had taken over the estate management, finding himself adrift in a sea of unfamiliar tasks. His father had died at the young age of forty-seven, very unexpectedly. Marcus, therefore, had little experience or education regarding the running of the earldom’s estates. His father had encouraged him to enjoy himself, live life as he pleased, always saying, “There will be time to learn all the stuffy business later.” Well, later had arrived all too soon.