Page 2 of Gentlemen Prefer Heiresses
But then he thought of them all fondly, always ended things on good terms. Well, almost always. There was one exception that he tried very hard not to remember.
Gina Hammersley was different. Different from the others. Different from anyone he’d ever known. He couldn’t quite figure out why. Perhaps because she was forbidden, untouchable, the sort of woman with whom a man didn’t dally. Sterling reputation, scandal free, destined for the altar. A lass who would cling to her virginity until her wedding night. Not the kind he was at all interested in getting to know.
Still, he surreptitiously slid his gaze over to her. She was an elfin thing, petite, delicate. She watched the couple exchanging vows as though she’d never seen or heard anything so wonderful in her entire life. He had an insane urge to show her something far more marvelous: the world from atop a mountain, a slow journey down the Nile, pyramids, the Taj Majal, Paris, Rome. A kiss. A touch. Pleasure. The possibilities began spinning through his mind, as he imagined her looking up at him with the adoration she now bestowed upon his brother and his bride.
But he knew the truth of her: she was for only fantasies and dreams. She desired rank and title. He was merely the spare. While she might intrigue him, she was a challenge he could not accept.
A somewhat quiet yet intense throat clearing jerked him from his reverie, and he found himself gazing into eyes very similar to his, issuing a rebuke, revealing a bit of impatience. Right. The ring. He dug it out of his waistcoat pocket and dropped it into his brother’s waiting palm. As Rex turned away, Andrew was left with the distinct impression the marquess was aware of the direction his thoughts had wandered, in which case he’d no doubt receive a lecture following the breakfast celebration. Not that he’d pay it much heed.
He shifted his attention back to Miss Hammersley. Tears were welling in her eyes. Why the deuce did women weep at moments such as this, when a man was being shackled for life? It should be the man crying, because all the joy was going to be drained from his life.
Chapter 2
“You’re to stay away from Gina.”
Standing in a far corner of the terrace, sipping scotch as darkness descended, Andrew didn’t even bother to glance over at his brother. “Shouldn’t you be off bedding your wife by now?”
The day had been infernally long. The weddingbreakfast—he didn’t know why it was labeled as such when it had occurred in early afternoon—had gone on forever. Following that, a host of young ladies had demonstrated their mastery of the pianoforte. Although for some, mastery was a generous overstatement. And now a ball was underway, with no plans for it to come to an end until midnight. If he were to slip away for more entertaining endeavors would his absence be noted?
“Tillie is changing into her traveling attire as we speak. We’re going to Kingsbrook Park for a few days.” Rexton raised horses at his personal estate. Both he and his now-wife were mad about equines and racing. “While we’re away you’re to avoid Gina.”
“I don’t require a warning. I have no interest in the girl.”
“That’s untrue. I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at her all day.”
After tossing back what remained of his scotch, Andrew faced his brother. “What was I supposed to do when the entire day has been naught but shoving her into my path? Ignore her when I’m standing across from her at the church, sitting beside her during breakfast—”
“There was a hunger in your eyes.”
“I was bloody famished! We didn’t eat until early afternoon. Why call it a breakfast if it’s not served shortly upon awakening?”
Rexton released a long-suffering sigh. “Andrew, I’m deadly serious. Gina is an innocent, and you are far too worldly for her. It is my intention to help her find a suitable husband when we return.”
“Like Somerdale.” He scoffed. The man had been fawning over Gina every moment she wasn’t at Andrew’s side. When it was her turn at the pianoforte, he’d even gone up to turn the sheets of music for her like he was a besotted swain. The display of false devotion had very nearly caused Andrew to cast up his accounts. “She won’t be happy with him.”
“Her happiness is not your concern.”
“I disagree. She’s part of the family now.”
“Not. Your. Concern. Steer clear of her.”
He was in need of more scotch. “As I stated earlier, she doesn’t interest me in the least. And as you’ve stated, she is an innocent, which makes her unappealing. I suspect the girl has never even been kissed. What use would I have for her when I prefer my women to be knowledgeable in the ways of men? Trust me, Brother, any glances or attention I bestowed upon her today was done out of politeness only. In the future, keep her away from me, so I’m not put in the position of having to be graciously attentive. It’s bothersome. Especially as she is remarkably dull.”
Dull, was she?
Not wanting her presence known, Gina stepped back into the shadows. She’d been sent to find her brother-in-law to let him know his wife was ready to depart. As a result she’d overheard far more of that irritating conversation than she would have liked. And to think: she’d judged Lord Andrew Mabry charming. Instead he was a boor. An oaf. Totally unsuitable for her.
Not that she’d been considering him as a possible love interest. She knew he had no wish to marry, while she had no wish tonotmarry. They’d never suit. Lord Somerdale, however, was another matter entirely. She could be happy with him. Shewouldbe happy with him. If he ever asked for her hand. His attentiveness seemed to come and go as frequently as she changed frocks.
She fought back the doubts stirred by Lord Andrew’s words and Somerdale’s failure to commit. She’d long feared that her inability to attract an assortment of beaux after her coming out had nothing to do with Tillie’s scandal, but in fact was a result of her lacking in some regard. All of eleven when her mother uprooted her from New York and brought her to England so her older sister could snag herself a lord, Gina had spent a good part of the early years striving to fit in. Eventually she’d fallen in love with her adopted homeland and became enamored of the aristocratic life. But still she was haunted by comparisons of Tillie’s first Season to hers.
Tillie had been the belle of the balls, her favors sought by every bachelor in search of a wife—and even a few who weren’t—her dance card always filled, flowers and chocolates delivered every day. It had been wondrous to witness, and she’d assumed she’d have the same sort of Season. Instead she’d spent the first two months of her first Season floundering, a wallflower for the most part. She tried not to take it personally but it was a bit difficult to do when one was easily hurt by the uncaring of others.
Or when one overheard conversations one shouldn’t.
Hearing footsteps, she shrunk back against the shrubbery until she was certain she couldn’t be seen. Holding her breath, she watched as Rexton strolled by. She was delighted the marquess intended to honor his promise to assist her in finding the proper gentleman to marry. She was equally delighted that after tonight, she would be able to limit her association with Lord Andrew. The hastily arranged preparations and all of the day’s activities had kept them within close proximity. But no more. She had no wish to be in the company of a man who thought her dull.
On the other hand, perhaps she’d accept the challenge of proving him wrong.
