“Red-haired?” Ash clarified. “Always chattering?”
“She caught me having one of my spells,” Gill admitted, shame tingeing his voice.
The devil.He had been hoping his brother would have fared better at this extended country house party than he had at other events in the past, in part because Ash had accompanied him there.
“Where were you when it happened?” He hated that after all these years and their bastard of a father’s death, Gill was still haunted by the ghosts of the past.
“Hiding in a blasted salon,” Gill said.
Damn.
“Where wasIwhen it happened?” he asked, for aside from the time he had spent pursuing Miss Prudence Winter on his brother’s behalf, he had done his best never to stray from Gill’s side.
“Skirt chasing?” Gill asked, his tone pointed.
“I have not been chasing any skirts here.” He glowered at his brother. “Which is probably why I am all but going mad with restlessness. Have you any idea how long it has been since I have last had a woman?”
So bloody long that Ash himself could not even recall. Thank the Lord this house party would not last beyond the next fortnight. Any longer, and he would perish.
“You will survive,” Gill said mildly. “I have survived eight-and-twenty years thus far.”
Yes, much to Ash’s horror, his brother was a damned virgin. Not for Ash’s lack of attempting to help his brother to rectify that sin. He had once enlisted the aid of London’s most desired courtesan. And not even she had managed to break through Gill’s walls.
An utter waste, for Ash had wooed her himself, and yet had not been able to reap the rewards of his diligence. They shared blood. There was no way in hell they would ever share women.
Which was what made Ash’s unwanted lust for Miss Prudence Winter so very disturbing. And wrong. And as fruitless as a winter’s garden. Because nothing could be done about it, especially if she was to become his brother’s wife.
The very thought of Miss Prudence Winter becoming the next Duchess of Coventry was enough to make him want to gag.
“How you have managed to survive that long remains one of life’s innumerable mysteries,” he forced himself to say. “I do not have your fortitude. But even so, you know very well that my sole purpose in coming here was to aid you in securing the bride you need.”
“Yes,” agreed Gill, “and I am grateful for your concern as ever, Brother. Tell me, have you made any progress with Miss Prudence Winter?”
“I rather think I have,” he said grimly. A change of subject was desperately needed. “But enough of that. Race me to the tree line? On the count of three. One…two…three!”
They kicked their mounts into a gallop in unison, and as they soared toward the centuries-old trees on the edge of the field, the winter’s wind buffeting them, Ash told himself he was doing the right thing.
For all the right reasons.
Much to hershame, Pru was hiding from Lord Ashley Rawdon.
She was ensconced in a small salon in the far west wing of Abingdon House where she was certain no one would find her, curled up on an overstuffed chair. And she was reading a book. Not just any book, as it happened. A rather wicked book. One of a series that Christabella had managed to acquire with the help of her enterprising lady’s maid.
The Tale of Lovewas the name, and the words, like the forbidden engravings, were wicked. Bawdy. Shocking. If their overly protective brother Dev ever discovered his sisters were not only in possession of one of the most lurid and sensational series of novels recently published but had been consuming it quite thoroughly from frontispiece to the last page, his rage would have no end.
The Tale of Lovewas written in the form of a series of letters between two dear friends, regaling each other with ribald tales ofon ditsand their own sensual escapades. Each letter discussed the forbidden in great, shocking detail. As a lady who had been largely shielded from such matters, Pru had an insatiable curiosity for the truth.
But as riveted as she had often been to the pages of the books, for some reason, she could not seem to concentrate upon the words before her now. Her mind continued to wander to a golden-haired, blue-eyed rakehell who had cozened her into promising to teach him how to court ladies.
Ladies such as herself, she supposed.
Not that she wanted Lord Ashley to court her. Or that she wanted any man to court her, for that matter. She was happy enough with her future plans laid. She would build her own foundling hospital from the ground up. She most certainly had no intention of becoming anyone’s wife. And she most certainly had no need to teach Lord Ashley Rawdon anything.
Except that she had struck a bargain with him. And her honor would not allow her to forget it. Instead, she had spent the past two days since he had found her in the library outmaneuvering him at every turn. If he moved nearer to her in a crowded room, she shied away. She made certain she had a partner at the ready for every drawing room game. She broke her fast in her chamber. She took great care when sneaking into chambers for some much-needed time alone.
Just as she had done today.
The door to the salon opened abruptly, jarring her from her troublesome thoughts.
