His finger traced her lips, and his fingertip came up coated with graphite; the things he wanted to do to those lips. Edward knew his inclination in the bedchamber would make a virgin Miss faint, but something inside him felt—deeplyfelt, this Alice would meet him halfway.
“Knock, knock,” Benedict said as he strode into Edward’s study, bearing two cups of coffee.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in a lecture hall now?” he asked his brother, shifting the picture to the other side.
“I should be,” Benedict replied. “But I am absconding in favor of a croquet game at Lady Islington’s home.”
Askance, Edward asked, “You?”
“Yes?”
“Croquet?” Edward added dryly. “The very sport you told me was the most nonsensical sport ever invented from the dawn of creation? Why are you even attending, much less playing it?”
Twisting the cup in his hand, Benedict took a mouthful. “I’ll suffer through mind-numbing tedium because the lady I want to court is there.”
“Ah,” Edward nodded. “Now the truth comes out. The things we men do to gain the woman we want. We will wade through the fires of hell to get her.”
Lips twitching, Benedict added, “Coming from a man who has sworn off marriage—much less courting, I find that incredibly amusing and heavily ironic.”
“Touché,” Edward said.
Looking down, Benedict sighted the paper with the drawing and spun it to him. Brows lowering, he gazed at it and Edward could see confusion mark his brother’s face. “What is it?”
“I—” he stopped. “I don’t know. This drawing looks very much like the lady I want to court. How did you know to draw this? This is very detailed, even with half her face covered.”
What?
“Pardon?”
“Miss Alice,” Benedict said, tapping the drawing. “She looked exactly like this.”
Alice—the very same name. What are the odds of both of us meeting the same Alice?
“You don’t say…” Edward slid the drawing back to himself.
If she was the woman that had drawn his brother’s interest, he certainly would not interfere, but a devilish need to see this lady for himself and find out if she was the one from that night arose in his mind.
“How much do you know about her?”
He didn’t know if he wanted—or preferred—to play a game ofI-found-her-firstbut he did want to know if this lady was the same one. He wanted to be strategic and subtle about it though.
Even if she is the same one, what will you do about it? You have decided on not courting or marrying…
“I know she has a sister, who, admittedly, I have noticed is very pretty and quiet,” Benedict confessed. “She also has a cousin that reminds me of a pretty kitten, spoiled as can be.”
“I see,” Edward nodded, wondering if this sister was the same one Alice had mentioned inside the Club. “Well, I won’t be keeping you long. Do you remember what part of the croquet mallet hits the ball?”
Benedict’s eyes narrowed. “The same end I will use over your head if you keep needling me.”
Laughing, Edward waved him off and then lifted the drawing, her eyes as haunting to him this moment as the second their gazes had met. “Alice, Alice… do I dare find you playing croquet?”
Stepping back, Alice sat her mallet aside as Marquess Brampton—orBenedictas he had a moment ago asked her to call him—lined up his last shot on the green and tapped the ball, sending it right through the last of the wickets and solidly winning the game.
“He is so very handsome,” Eliza sighed lovingly, coiling a lock of her dark hair around a finger and gazing fondly at the Marquess, clothed in flattering shades of brown and bronze.
Penelope looked at their cousin with horror and a twinge of disgust. “Eliza, stop. He is courting Alice.”
Twisting her face into a nasty sneer, Eliza huffed, “He wouldn’t have if he had met me first.”
