AN HEIR MAKES A BOLD MOVE
Ahalf-hour ago, back at Norwick House
Anthony Comber, Viscount Breckinridge, watched from atop his horse as his brother and Lady Danielle made their way toward the Stanhope Gate to Hyde Park. He had to give Andrew credit—his twin hadn’t wasted any time in taking the necessary steps to re-secure her promise of marriage. Andrew might have remembered Danielle agreeing to marry him when she was ten years old, but she very well might have forgotten by now.
Their father’s edict had Anthony experiencing a number of emotions in the last hour. The pre-dawn rain had contributed to his poor mood upon leaving his dormitory early that morning. Now anger and disappointment warred with resentment as to which would prevail. He was exhausted, though, tired from their pre-dawn travel from Cambridge and weary from the ‘what-ifs’ that had him wishing he could set Time’s clock backwards in an effort to set things right.
Even when he imagined what he might have done—or not done—with respect to changing places with his brother two days ago, he realized he still would have done it.
He would have worn a different waistcoat, though, and insisted his brother stay in their dormitory until he had returned from taking the exam.
The thought surprised him. The right thing to have done was refuse his brother’s request outright.
He had taken pity on his brother, though. Always would, for the malady that prevented Andrew from being able to read as easily as Anthony had kept his slightly younger brother from doing as well in school as Anthony did. As for Andrew’s ability to remember everything he had ever heard... well, although it might come in handy for him, Anthony didn’t think he would find it particularly useful.
He glanced at Norwick House, wondering if his future wife was somewhere inside. Of all the girls they had befriended in their youth—daughters of thetonwho were about their same age—Andrew had always favored Danielle. He wasn’t surprised his brother would pursue her for marriage. The dunderhead was probably in love with her. Probably had been since he proposed marriage when he was eight years old.
As for Lady Dahlia, Anthony still wasn’t convinced he should settle for her to be his eventual countess.
Settle.
The thought had him wincing.
Is that what he’d be doing should he decide to propose marriage to her?
Settling for her rather than trying to find someone he might eventually love?
He had only decided on her in the last hour because of all the young women he knew in London, he had known her the longest. They had attended the same entertainments. Their mothers were good friends. They were about the same age.
Dahlia was perfectly suited to be a countess. She was confident and self-assured. Mayhap a bit opinionated, but only because she knew her own mind. She already knew how to help run an earldom. How to host balls andsoirées. How to keep her name out ofThe Tattler. ‘Duty’ could have been one of her middle names.
Anthony chuckled at the thought.
Dahlia Davida Dutiful Fitzsimmons.
He quickly sobered. They would have a marriage of convenience. Nothing more.
Except the wedding needed to happen sooner rather than later. Although he had set aside some of his allowance from prior years, it wasn’t enough to last him through the entire Season. He didn’t have the luxury of courting anyone else, not that he was interested in any of the young women who were his age. Dahlia had nearly two years on him.
A stable boy ran up to him before he could dismount. “I can hold him for you, sir, if you’ve come to pay a call.”
“I have,” Anthony replied, handing the reins to the young boy. “Might you know if Lady Dahlia is in residence?”
The stable boy’s eyes widened. “She ain’t, sir. She’s having her riding lesson with Mr. Winston.”
Anthony glanced toward the park, seeing only his brother and Lady Danielle disappearing through the trees on their way toward the Serpentine. “Where do they ride?”
“Over in Rotten Row, sir. They took the new ’orse,” he said proudly.
“Oh? What nag might that be?” Anthony asked, amused by the boy’s comment.
“A right Thoroughbred, sir. Vindication. He was a winner at the track. Lord Norwick wanted him here as a stud.”
Anthony gave a start, recognizing the name. Although he had only attended a few horse races during his lifetime, he had seen Vindication in action. “One of Hunt’s horses, wasn’t he?” he asked, referring to the Duke of Huntington. The man had an impressive racing stables, mostly due to his duchess, who had a knack for matching mares to studs to create horses with both stamina and speed. “I think I’d like to see him in action,” Anthony said as he remounted his horse.
In reality, he wanted to see Lady Dahlia on the horse. He knew she could ride—he’d even accompanied her and her sister for an occasional afternoon parade in Hyde Park—but she’d always been on Irish walkers or Welsh ponies.
He gave the boy a farthing. “Thanks for the information.”
