Page 1 of Gentlemen Prefer Heiresses
Prologue
From the Journal of Lord Andrew Mabry
I was born the spare. The second son. The extra. The one held in reserve. The one who arrived without fanfare or bells tolling. The one who would not inherit unless the heir cocked up his toes.
Since my older brother was a most sensible man, his demise was unlikely to take place before he provided his own heir and spare.
So little was expected of me.
I was to be a gentleman, to play, to squander my allowance, to provide entertainment, to be always pleasant and always in the background. I embraced these duties as though Great Britain would fall if I did not see to them with enthusiasm and diligence.
I was a right jolly fellow, with no plans to ever marry. After all, I was not responsible for the next generation. A wife would hinder my pleasures, would be a symbol of the responsibility I was allowed to avoid. I was carefree. I wanted to remain that way, had taken a vow to welcome death in my old age as a bachelor.
Then I mether.
And she challenged everything I knew and understood about myself.
Chapter 1
London
July, 1882
As organ music wafted up to the church rafters, Miss Virginia Hammersley strolled slowly down the aisle toward the altar where the Marquess of Rexton stood tall and handsome. Gina was the one who was supposed to marry this Season, the one whom the marquess had supposedly been courting.
Yet today she was serving merely as the maid of honor because the Marquess of Rexton had fallen in love with her older and incredibly scandalous sister. Since thebeaumondeloved scandal and the marquess’s family equally, the pews were fairly packed. Amazing how love could right a ruined reputation. She took quite a bit of pride in her role of seeing it righted, of seeing Tillie—if not fully embraced by Society—at least no longer being shunned by it.
As Gina neared, Rex acknowledged her with a slight bowing of his head and a smile that spoke a volume of happiness, the sort of smile she dreamed the man she eventually married would direct her way. One that foretold a love so grand that time would be powerless to erase it. Adoration that could not be measured. Esteem that knew no bounds.
Emotions exemplified in every romantic novel she’d read and clutched to her bosom when finished, tears rolling down her cheeks. Such affection could not be written about if it didn’t exist. She was determined to find it in the form of a duke, or a marquess, or an earl. She was one of the wealthiest heiresses to ever set foot on England’s shores. With her sister’s redemption, the possibilities for Gina’s own future and acquiring all she held dear opened up dramatically.
While the Season was nearing its end, it was not yet over, and she was determined to make the most of the time that remained, so she would be taking this same journey as a bride before year’s end.
Only after she took her place did she dare glance over at the man standing beside the marquess—his younger brother, Lord Andrew Mabry. Or she’d intended to merely glance over, but his gaze captured and held hers as effectively as if he’d secured it with rope and locked it behind bars. From the moment she’d met him one night at the theater in May, she’d had a difficult time breaking eye contact with him once it was made. Like his brother’s, his eyes were blue but there was a stormy quality to them as though he relished flirting with danger, with impropriety. Rumor had it that he’d recently been involved with an actress. Common knowledge was that he never intended to marry, which made mothers wary of him and young girls heed the warnings to steer clear of him.
Not that she needed any warnings. He made her insides feel funny, her skin warm, her toes curl, her nerve endings tingle—and all of that was with a few feet separating them.
Besides she had her heart set on marrying a titled gentleman. Pity, for Lord Andrew to become titled Gina’s sister would have to become a sonless widow. Tillie had experienced too many unhappy years for Gina to wish such a dreadful outcome on her.
Still she couldn’t deny something about Lord Andrew called to the wanton in her, especially when his perusal was as leisurely as it was now, and she could imagine that in his mind he was slowly unfastening each button, giving laces their freedom, easing her gown off her shoulders, tugging it down until her breasts sprung free and that luscious wicked looking mouth of his could close around a pearled nipple. She knew it would be pearled because they always puckered when he was near, when his gaze dipped, leaving her with the impression he knew precisely what she looked like beneath her clothing.
Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” suddenly burst forth in a crescendo from the organ, breaking the sensual spell into which she’d fallen. Grateful for the excuse to turn her attention to the back of the church, she watched as her uncle led her sister in her lovely lilac gown—white being forbidden since it wasn’t her first marriage—up the aisle. At that moment, she missed her parents more than she thought possible. Her mother had passed a few years earlier, her father a little over a year ago. With his death, she and Tillie had acquired a fortune, would continue to receive an annual income from her family’s firearms company. It was the reason she could fairly dictate whom she would marry. It gave her power. She could even set her sights on a prince if she so desired. Perhaps she would.
Tillie was marrying a marquess who would one day inherit a dukedom. Her sister would become a duchess. Gina thought it would be grand to acquire that rank as well. Sister duchesses—what fun that would be. Although truth be told, she’d settle for a pauper if he caused her to radiate as much happiness as Tillie did now, gliding toward her.
Her sister deserved this joy. Her first marriage had resulted in a scandalous divorce that had seen her tossed out on her ear by the aristocracy. Gina had no doubt this marriage would last until the end of time.
The love with which Rexton gazed at his bride as she took her place beside him no doubt had every woman within the church sighing with longing for the same sort of adoration to be cast her way. Gina certainly did.
She wanted what Tillie had, was determined to acquire it.
Family obligation and love for his brother kept Lord Andrew Mabry—the ducal spare—tethered to the altar when he’d rather be anywhere else. Wedding ceremonies were so blasted boring, seemed to go on forever, and had no luck holding his attention.
Miss Virginia Hammersley on the other hand—
He was struggling to ignore her, to not be caught staring at her while envisioning all the lovely alabaster and pink skin that existed beneath the white gown decorated in pearls. His thoughts were entirely inappropriate, and he knew if Rex discerned their direction that at the end of this torturous ceremony Andrew would be fending off his brother’s fists. The marquess was incredibly protective of Gina, had been striving to assist her in finding a husband—until he’d fallen head over heels in love with her sister.
Andrew was a great believer in love. How could one not be when raised by parents who adored each other? Still, he thought it a waste to focus all the emotion on one person. He preferred to spread it around. Recently he’d fancied an actress, before her a shop clerk, before that a barmaid, an artist, a writer, a harpist, and a coalminer’s daughter. She’d been his first. He couldn’t smell coal burning without thinking of her fondly.
