Goddess of the Hunt (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #1)(25)

Henry shrugged. “I don’t see what else there is to do.”

“Perhaps you should invite the vicar’s son to tea,” Felix suggested.

“Impossible,” said Henry. “He’s off to Oxford.”

Jeremy shook his head. This conversation was becoming nonsensical. He glowered at Toby.Selfish ass . So cocksure of captivating any and every woman’s affections. Of course he saw no reason to rush a proposal. The idea of Miss Hathaway refusing him would never cross his mind. It would serve him right if she did.

Toby noted Jeremy’s sullen expression. “Don’t look at me like that! It’s not my fault, you know. If you find Lucy’s ‘antics’ so annoying, why don’tyou distract her?”

“Please.” Jeremy tipped his glass to drain the last of his brandy, then lowered it slowly. Henry was giving him the most distressing look.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Henry said.

“What’s not a bad idea?” asked Felix.

“Jem distracting Lucy.” A mischievous grin spread across Toby’s face.

“Oh, no.” Jeremy rose from his chair and stepped behind it, as though the wing-backed barrier of civility might shield him from their lunacy. “If by ‘distract,’ you mean—distract—and if by ‘Lucy,’ you mean Henry’ssister … the answer is no. No.”

“Relax, Jem,” Henry said. “We’re not suggesting you court her in earnest. Just pay her a bit of attention. Take her on an amble through the garden. Read her one of Byron’s poems.”

“And don’t forget the pie.” Felix was enjoying this far too much.

“You can’t be serious, Henry.” Henry had never been a model guardian, but this strained the definition of the term. “Are you honestly suggesting—invitingme to play loose with your sister’s affections?”

“Her affections?” Henry laughed. “As ifyou could engage Lucy’s affections. It’s nothing so dreadful. Her pride’s been bruised, and she wants a bit of admiring. Just do your best to stand in for the vicar’s spotty son.”

Good Lord, had Henrymet his sister? Lucy was many things, but easily dissuaded was not one of them. She’d invested eight years in this misplaced adulation, and if Henry thought a few pretty words would snap her out of it now, he was a bit late on the draw.

“You’ll not touch her, of course,” Henry added, his voice deep with mock warning.

A bit late on that one, too.

“Come on,” Toby pleaded. “Do a man a favor. I’d do it for you, were our situations reversed.”

“I don’t doubt you would,” Jeremy said. “But oddly enough, Toby, I’ve never aspired to your example of conduct.”

They were closing in on him, all three of them wearing expressions of great amusement. Jeremy began to feel a bit desperate. “It won’t work,” he protested.

“Are you so out of practice then?” Toby taunted. “You typically cut quite a swath through theton , but not this season. Perhaps you’re just not up to the task?”

Jeremy’s hands were fists at his sides. His right itched to connect with Toby’s jaw. The left had distinctly lower ambitions. “Myability is not in question.”

Henry clapped him on the shoulder and smiled. “Good. Then it’s settled.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“Come to call me a fool again?” Lucy asked from behind her book. “Or perhaps you’ve devised a fresh insult?”

Jeremy pulled a chair up to the hearth. Aunt Matilda dozed on a nearby divan, her turbaned head slumped to her chest. The turban’s indigo plume dangled in front of her nose, and each rattling snore set it dancing in the breeze.

After this afternoon’s dousing, Lucy had traded her ruined silk gown for a simple dark-green dress with—thankfully—a modest neckline. Her hair was braided into a thick rope of chestnut that tapered to a gentle curve at her waist. A leather-bound volume hid her face from view. She had maintained this studious attitude ever since the group retired to the drawing room following dinner, but Jeremy hadn’t seen her turn a single page.

He maneuvered a chess table into the space between them and began arranging the pawns in neat rows. “I did not come to insult you. Quite the opposite.” He leaned forward across the game board, as though preparing to spill a great secret. “I’ve come to seduce you.”

She peeked at him over the top of her book. Her eyes flared momentarily before narrowing to slits. “I prefer insult to ridicule.”

He shrugged and continued arranging the chess pieces. “Perhaps I simply want a game of chess.”

She snorted in disbelief and glanced over toward the card table, where the Hathaway sisters were on the verge of bankrupting all three gentlemen. “Henry put you up to this, didn’t he?”

Jeremy’s fingers tightened around a black rook.

“I don’t want your pity, Jemmy.” Lucy snapped her book closed. “And what’s more, I don’t need it.”

She met his eyes directly, and the force in her gaze nearly knocked him off his chair. Her green eyes were clear and alive with intelligence, not red or brimming with tears. He shook his head, chiding himself for underestimating her resilience. Lucy had not sequestered herself to nurse her wounded pride or lament her disappointed hopes. She was plotting her next move.