“Details. Besides, to hear you tell it, a ride in the park is a mere step removed from a betrothal.” Julian tossed the letter opener onto the desk. “A jaunt today, a marriage tomorrow. Isn’t that what they say?”
“I’ve no idea what they say, but for Lady Eleanor a jaunt around the park will lead to a marriage soon enough. I’ve given her two weeks.”
Julian raised an eyebrow at this. “What, a two week grace period? You didn’t say anything about that before.”
Cam turned his whiskey glass between his fingers. No, he hadn’t, because he was done being gracious or merciful to Eleanor Sutherland. When he first returned to London he’d tried to court her in the honorable way, but she’d rebuffed him, much as she had every other suitor.
This wasn’t a courtship anymore. It was conquest and surrender.
As irksome as he found the delay, the lady had a point, and her sister’s reputation would be as much at risk two weeks hence as it was now.
“Lady Eleanor pointed out she couldn’t simply announce an engagement to me without any warning—her family wouldn’t like it, and I’d rather not attract unwanted attention from those hot-headed brothers of her. Besides,” he added, with an innocent look, “I couldn’t refuse the lady’s one request. I’m a gentleman, after all.”
Julian choked on the sip of whiskey he’d taken. “Yes, of course. Once we put aside the blackmail, extortion and threats, there’s nothing left but gentlemanliness at its finest.”
Cam took a sip of his own whiskey and eyed his cousin over the edge of his glass. Another attempt to make him feel guilty? It wouldn’t work. He had a conscience much like any other man, but not when it came to the Sutherlands.
“How did you find our Lady Frost, then?” Julian asked. “Does she live up to her reputation? I hear she’s clever.”
Cam leaned back in his chair, considering. “She has a sharp tongue. I suppose some might mistake it for cleverness.”
“Not you, of course.”
Cam waved a dismissive hand at his cousin. “I’d sooner call it arrogance. No doubt her wit and accomplishments have been exaggerated. Gentlemen tend to lose their heads over extraordinarily beautiful women.”
“Ah, so you noticed the extraordinary beauty, did you? I thought you might have overlooked it.”
“I don’t care for her sort of female, but I’m not blind, cousin.”
Eleanor Sutherland had the kind of beauty men crawled across deserts on their bellies to possess. The huge dark eyes and regal cheekbones, set off by that red, wickedly full, pixie of a mouth? He didn’t care for brunettes, and he didn’t care for Eleanor Sutherland, but even he hadn’t been unmoved by the sight of that mouth, and more so when it delivered a sarcastic comment or set down. The lady had spirit, if not true wit, and he did appreciate a challenge.
He’d enjoy bedding her, at least until he wearied of her sharp tongue. Once the inevitable tedium set in, she could do as she wished, and he’d go about his business much as he had before he married.
Julian snorted. “Never mind blind, Cam. A man would have to be dead to overlook Lady Eleanor’s beauty. I was about to check your pulse this minute if you didn’t acknowledge it.”
“It’s strange, though . . .” Cam frowned as he remembered something she’d said that surprised him.
“What is?”
“She talked about the gentlemen being enamored of her dowry, as if she believes all those swains sniffing after her only want her fortune.” Cam shook his head. “She didn’t seem to think any of them might want her.”
“That is strange. In my experience, most ladies tend to overestimate their charms, not otherwise. Unless her dowry is large enough to drown England in gold sovereigns, I believe the lady is mistaken. It would explain her coldness, though.”
“What do you mean?” Cam tossed back the rest of his whiskey. “Why would it?”
“It’s obvious, Cam. If she thinks her suitors are only after her dowry, it’s no wonder she’s cold to them, is it?”
“I suppose so.” Or perhaps she wished to be known as the most unattainable lady in London, or some other foolish thing. It didn’t matter. He didn’t choose to delve into the reasons Lady Eleanor might feel as she did. Cold or warm, clever or featherbrained, dark-haired or fair—she was a Sutherland. For his purposes, that was good enough.
Julian wasn’t willing to let the matter drop, however. “Didyoufind her cold?”
“Let’s just say I should have brought a greatcoat into the drawing room with me when I spoke with her. By the time I took my leave, the windows had iced over.”
Julian laughed. “I hope you weren’t foolish enough to expect a warm welcome from her. Threats and blackmail do tend to cool a lady’s ardor.”
Cam only grunted in reply. His cousin was showing a disturbing inclination to champion Lady Eleanor. There was no point in arguing with him, for it would only make him more insistent. Julian could behave with stunning perversity on occasion. Before long he’d have Eleanor Sutherland as some poor victimized maiden, and Cam as Lucifer himself.
Julian stared down at the last swallow of amber liquid in his glass. “I don’t suppose you happened to see Lady Charlotte while you were there?”
