The Unlikely Lady (Playful Brides #3)(8)

“Oh, really?” Upton replied, giving Jane a sardonic look. “How exactly do you intend to accomplish that?”

Lucy didn’t take a breath. “Jane’s been suffering at her mother’s insistence that she marry and we’ve a plan to put an end to it. It’s quite simple, really. Nothing that will cause trouble at the wedding.”

“Lucy.” The note of warning was back in Upton’s voice. “What are you planning to do?”

Lucy waved her hand in the air. “Nothing that requires your assistance, dear cousin. You needn’t warn me this time. I’ve everything perfectly under control.”

Upton studied Jane. She merely shrugged. She’d been patiently waiting her turn for Lucy’s, er, expertise, and she wasn’t about to allow Upton’s cautiousness to upend her Mrs. Bunbury plot. Lucy always managed to think of some way to get what she wanted, and this time, Jane intended to be the happy recipient of that skill.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, Garrett,” Lucy replied, patting her cousin’s arm. “Besides, after I help Jane here, I may turn my attentions to you.”

“Me?” The whites of Upton’s eyes showed.

Lucy tossed the recalcitrant curl off her forehead with one finger. “Yes. You.”

Upton squinted one eye, pressing his fingertip to his forehead as if he had a megrim. “How could you possibly help me?”

Lucy’s grin was wide and unrepentant. “Why, you’re obviously in need of a wife.”





CHAPTER FIVE

“In need of a wife. Absolutely ludicrous,” Garrett mumbled to himself minutes later after the three ladies had excused themselves and returned to the house. The last thing he needed was his troublemaking cousin trying to matchmake for him. Why, Lucy had already spent the last few years convinced he was in love with Cassandra. Lucy had been entirely wrong about that, of course, but it had taken no small bit of discussion to convince her.

Garrett grabbed up the bow and arrow and took aim at the bull’s-eye. He released the bow, letting the arrow zing its way to the target. It hit right off center. Damn. Not quite as perfect as Miss Lowndes’s arrows, but he’d never give her the satisfaction of knowing it.

Miss Lowndes. What was she up to? Lucy was meddlesome. That was her nature. Apparently, Miss Lowndes was encouraging her meddling. Garrett had nearly asked them to explain whatever Miss Lowndes meant by that comment about her new chaperone. Could he survive another mad house party with Lucy up to her old tricks? He sighed. Something told him he was about to.

He plucked another arrow from the quiver and sent it zinging behind the last one. He grinned. Aha! That hit even closer than Miss Lowndes’s best shot.

“Well done.”

Garrett swiveled toward the sound of clapping to see Derek Hunt, the Duke of Claringdon, striding toward him.

“Claringdon, good to see you.”

At well over six feet tall, Claringdon was taller than Garrett though not by much. He was big, dark, and strong, a former army lieutenant general before being granted his dukedom for his decisiveness in the Battle of Waterloo. But for all of Claringdon’s recommendations, the thing that mattered most to Garrett was that the duke made his cousin Lucy happy.

“How have you been, Upton?” Claringdon asked as he moved to stand a few paces away from Garrett.

“I’ve been well.” Garrett pulled a third arrow from the quiver.

“Why do I question that?” Claringdon’s deep voice held a note of skepticism.

Garrett gave him a half-grin. Claringdon was wise. The man could obviously tell that Garrett wanted to broach a certain subject with him. An image of Harold Langford flashed across Garrett’s mind. His death. His screams. Garrett’s chest tightened in that familiar way it always did. Guilt, his constant companion. “I wanted to speak with you about the bill that Swifdon is proposing.”

Claringdon arched a brow. “The one for the soldiers who fought in the wars?”

“Yes.”

“What of it?”

Garrett took a deep breath. “I intend to help him rally for it, of course, as best I can. But I want it to do more.”

Claringdon squinted against the afternoon sun. “More?”

“That’s right.” Swifdon’s interest in passing a bill for the veterans had given Garrett a new purpose. He’d spent the last years since he’d returned from war being the perfect caricature of a Society male, a future earl. He’d gone drinking, gambled, flirted with ladies, even taken a few of the widows to bed. All in an effort to forget. Not that any of it had worked. In addition to sleepless nights plagued by awful dreams and memories, he’d been unable to fill the void in his soul. A generous bank draft made out to Harold’s widow each fortnight had done little to staunch the tidal wave of guilt that followed him wherever he went. Now, with this bill, Garrett finally had a chance to do something. He was not yet a member of Parliament himself, but he had two close friends who were, Claringdon and Swifdon.

“What did you have in mind?” Claringdon asked.

“I want to expand it. Make it so that not only the soldiers are taken care of, but their families, as well.”

The edges of Claringdon’s mouth drew up in a frown. “You know it’s going to be a fight for the soldiers alone.”