He compressed his lips, refusing to accept Aylesford’s bait. “You damn well know what it is.”
“Forgive me, Hertford,” the viscount drawled. “I had not realized you had settled upon heryourself. Perhaps I shall take the sister who was standing beside her, the lovely one who looked at me as if I were an unavoidable mud puddle. Her breasts are not as large as your future countess’s, but as they say, any more than a handful is a waste.”
Cam reminded himself to aim for Aylesford’s eye the next time they were sparring together at Grey’s Boxing Salon. “You have it all wrong. I am not about to offer for Miss Eugie. Her reputation speaks for itself.”
“As does her figure,” his friend added with a wicked grin. “If Cunningham truly did get beneath her skirts, he was a fortunate man indeed.”
“You will never fool the dowager into believing you are a reformed man with this sort of attitude,” he felt compelled to point out, aware he sounded as if his valet had tied his cravat too tightly that morning.
“Fortunately for me, you are not my grandmother.” Aylesford winked at him. “But you do sound rather a lot like the old bird, the more I think on it. Little wonder they call you the Prince of Proper.”
“Go to hell, Aylesford,” he told his friend before spurring his mount into a gallop. With the bracing winter wind against his cheeks, he headed for the horizon, putting some much-needed distance between himself and the taunting laughter of his friend.
There was somethingabout the Earl of Hertford that made Eugie incredibly suspicious of him. Gathering her pelisse about her to stave off the chilly nip of the wind, she turned a corner in the gardens, rounding a beautifully manicured wall of holly.
One of the loveliest aspects of the Abingdon Hall grounds—to her mind, at least—was not the immense limestone edifice with its two hundred rooms and picture gallery and entry hall large enough to house an entire London tenement. Rather, it was the massive amount of outdoor space. Having been born and raised in the city, Eugie appreciated nature, even in its frozen, wintry state. The lack of buildings, the absence of sound, the beauty of the land and vegetation, held her in their thrall.
But not so much that she forgot the task at hand. Namely, deciphering which of her sisters the Earl of Hertford and his ne’er-do-well friend, Viscount Aylesford, had settled upon as matrimonial prospects.
After what had happened with Baron Cunningham, Eugie was no longer the naïve girl she had once been, who blindly believed the best of everyone. She did not resent her former self for believing a man who had looked her in the eye and sworn he loved her with an undying fervency.
Rather, she wished she could be that lady once more. Oh, how she wished she could look upon perfectly groomed, handsome lords like the earl and the viscount and believe they truly wanted to align themselves with one of the Winters. That their intent was honest, their purpose true.
But she could not.
All it had taken was one letter from Cunningham’s former betrothed, the one hetrulyloved, the fine lady he had thrown over because she did not possess the wealth he required, to make her realize how foolish and unreliable her own judgment had been. And then, when she had ended their betrothal before it was public knowledge, Cunningham had waged a ruthless campaign against her. Spreading ghastly lies, courting gossipmongers as if it were his profession.
Leaving her reputation sullied.
She was tarnished, though she had never done anything wrong, aside from believing in Cunningham’s lies. She knew it. Everyone she loved knew it.
Her beloved sisters, protected and doted upon by their older brother Dev, were every bit as vulnerable as she had been. Every bit as in danger of being taken advantage of and subsequently ruined by fortune-hunting scoundrels who smiled with their lips and lied with their tongues.
Her sisters were lambs for the slaughter, as it were. With the possible exception of Grace, who did not suffer fools and who saw through everything and everyone. And of course Bea, who Eugie had only just discovered was set to wed their brother’s right-hand man, Merrick Hart. Though Eugie was not yet entirely convinced Merrick himself was not a fortune hunter…
But that was another matter.
On a sigh, Eugie turned yet another corner in the holly maze, only to discover she was not alone. There, at the other end of the narrow corridor in which she found herself, was the Earl of Hertford, the man who continued to intrude upon her thoughts.
Only to fret over how unsuitable a match he would prove for her sisters, of course.
He, too, was in the act of walking. Striding toward her, his large, powerful body a symmetry of masculine strength. Muscled thighs clad in breeches which did nothing to hide his form, polished riding boots to his knees, his broad shoulders hugged by a well-cut greatcoat.
Beneath the shadow of the brim of his hat, he was undeniably handsome. Too handsome, really. Why could he not have a lumpy middle, or a missing tooth? Why did he have to make her heart thump faster?
She stopped where she was, boots crunching in the frozen gravel, watching him warily. Though the day was a bright one, clouds overhead produced a small torrent of snow flurries, falling from the sky in a smattering of wisps. It was all rather idyllic, except for the man.
“My lord,” she greeted, injecting some of the frost of the air into her voice as she dipped into a curtsy. “What are you doing in the gardens? I believed all the gentlemen otherwise occupied with sport and leisure.”
He bowed in return, his expression solemn. “Is not a turn in the gardens both sport and leisure?”
She ought to make a hasty escape, and she knew it. Lady Emilia had been stern with her lectures about observing propriety, especially on Eugie’s part. There was to be absolutely no time alone with gentlemen. Certainly not handsome gentlemen who were unexpectedly lingering in gardens, far out of sight of the rest of the house party.
“Perhaps it is,” she allowed. “Though I do believe it depends upon one’s preferred sport and one’s preferred leisure.”
The moment she had spoken the words, she wished she could recall them.
Although spoken in innocence, given her reputation, they now hung in the air like sordid invitations. She only realized it too late, and felt her cheeks flush, much to her chagrin.
