Page 2 of 10 Things I Hate About the Earl

“I would be delighted with your company, Lady Celinda.” Lord Haversham smiled broadly, offered his arm, and they strode away without a backward glance.

“You are without a doubt the rudest woman in Christendom, Kate.” Face like a thundercloud, her brother snatched her to him, his voice low and menacing. “Haversham is my friend, and I will not allow you to taunt him with accusations of things beyond his control. You will be civil to him, or you will stay home.” Nathan’s slate-gray eyes reminded her of a rain-soaked pavement—cold, hard granite.

“Then tell him not to come near me.” Kate pulled her arm from his grasp and smoothed her skirts.

“You danced with him. Social engagement demands you respect your partner.”

“I only danced with him because of that stupid wager, and you know it.” Her brother could be absolutely maddening. “If Calabree had been a nose faster, you’d be dancing with Miss Carmichael instead.”

“I, however, backed the winning horse, dear sister. If you want to wager, you must learn to lose with good grace.” Nathan’s mouth twitched, his irrepressible good humor reasserting itself.

“Humph.” She really should’ve known better than to wager with her brother. His ability to assume a completely expressionless face when playing cards or placing bets had become extremely annoying. “No one could lose with good grace if they had to waltz with Lord Haversham for even five minutes. It is quite impossible to fathom. Even you, dear brother, would not take it well.”

“How fortunate then that I shall never be required to stand up with Haversham.” Nathan laughed, and Kate clenched her hands. Just because her brother fancied himself a great wit did not make it true.

“Well, mark my words, I will never undertake a wager again if the forfeit involves Lord Haversham.” Just saying the name was like biting into an unripe persimmon—it turned her mouth inside out.

Nathan watched her, rubbing his fingers over his watch fob. “You are in your third Season, Kate. You could do worse than Haversham, you know.”

“Worse than…” She stared at her brother, expecting devil’s horns to sprout from his dark, curly head. “How could anyone be worse than Marcus, Earl of Haversham?”

“You sound as though the man’s a scoundrel or a cad. He’s a good man, Kate, though he has have fallen on hard times at present. His father’s death affected him very deeply.” Nathan stared at her, frowning.

“I am sorry for his loss, but that doesn’t excuse—”

“He hadn’t expected to take on the mantle of responsibility for some years to come.” Her brother jumped to his friend’s defense. “By the time he got himself in hand, the estates had begun a downward slide. His uncle’s helping him take the reins of the family investments, so that should be all right. But Haversham himself is a good man. He’d make a good husband.”

“Do you seriously want me to marry him?” Kate’s jaw dropped in stupefaction then she grimaced and swallowed convulsively. “My mouth doesn’t even want to say the words.” That lemonade would’ve been welcome right about now. “I wouldn’t marry him if he were…were…” She cast about for something dire enough to drive her point home but was stymied. “There is no instance where I would consent to marry him.”

Her brother peered at her, amusement teasing a smile to his lips once more. “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

“Think what you will, as long as you get that notion out of your head.” Kate sniffed. “What gives you the idea Haversham has any interest in me anyway?” Dear God, had he actually spoken to Nathan about her? Offered for her in some fit of devilment? The idea made chills run down her arms, despite the warmth of the room. “He hasn’t said anything about me, has he?”

Nate bit back a laugh and steered her to an unoccupied corner. “No fear of that. He’d likely be as horrified as you at the notion. I seem to be the only one who thinks it a good match.”

“Thank goodness.” Relief swept through her as she eyed her brother askance. “You should be sent to Bedlam, dear brother, for even entertaining such an idea.” Kate fluffed the ruffles of her bodice, brushing briskly where the clod had pulled her to his hard chest and crushed the delicate green fabric.

Lord, but he’d been searing hot pressed against her. She shook off the phantom sensation. “You must allow me to advise you when you come to take a wife, Nathan. I assure you, I’ll return the favor in kind.”

“Peace, Kate.” He smiled and nodded toward the dance floor. “Enjoy this evening. Enjoy the rest of the Season. Find a gentleman you can love and respect then name the day for your wedding.” His face changed, the pleasant lines hardening, swiftly as quicksilver, into a fierce scowl. “But mark me well. Your time is almost up. You’ve squandered two Seasons, snubbing gentleman after gentleman until few dare approach you.”

Kate opened her mouth to protest. She’d simply not found a man who didn’t seem to fear her. Whenever she spoke her mind about any topic, they’d all politely turned tail and run from the room, figuratively speaking. The only one who actually seemed to relish her wit and strong opinions was Lord Haversham. Goodness, was that why Nathan thought they’d suit? Because they liked to argue with one another?

“As a result, you have only three months to find a husband. There is no such thing as a fourth Season.” His tone was once more serious. “Unless you’d like me to choose one for you?”

Kate squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “As long as he’s not Haversham, I probably wouldn’t object.” She flashed a challenging look at him. Two could play this game. “I spy Celinda coming toward us,” Kate said then grunted. “Ugh, she’s still in the company of the odious Haversham.”

“Katherine.” Nathan narrowed his eyes, and his fingers twitched.

She smiled smugly at him. “I will go rescue her. You can take your friend off to the card room and try not to win the rest of his meager funds.”

“Kate!” Nathan muttered at her through clenched teeth.

Ignoring him, she hurried toward her cousin, who was actually laughing with Haversham.

“Oh, Kate. Lord Haversham has such a wicked sense of humor. Have you not found him amusing?” Celinda’s eyes sparkled, flitting from her escort, who now looked as dour as a sermon, to Kate. Did her cousin expect her to fawn over Haversham because he’d made a jest?

“Yes, well, Lord Haversham has an air of wickedness about him, I will grant you that.” Kate forced a smile at the earl.