THE LOVE MATCH











THE
LOVE MATCH

Rexanne
Becnel

 

For the new girls, Dominique, Savannah,
and Simone

 

Chapter One

 

BENCHLEY HOUSE, HAMPSHIRE, ENGLAND MAY 1824

Jinx Benchley spoke before her
housekeeper could. "Whoever it is, say that I am indisposed."
"But Miss Jinx, he said"

"I don't care what he said. I cannot
possibly see him, or anyone else, this morning."

Although Jinx's voice was firm, her hand
shookas did the single sheet of parchment she grasped. She didn't look at Mrs.
Honeywell when she spoke to her, a behavior considered perfectly acceptable
among the gentry when dealing with the help. But Jinx had always considered it
inexcusably rude to treat anyone so carelessly, be they royalty or humble
farmer. Today, however, she could hardly think straight, let alone behave as
normal. Disaster had struck, and she did not know how to undo it.

She stared at the letter her younger
brother had left on her desk. What had he been thinking?

She pushed away from her desk and the
myriad papers so haphazardly stacked upon it, and stared up at the portrait of
her parents. How would they handle this situation, if they were still living?
It was clear she must do something, but what? Perhaps she should send for the

solicitor in Fiddle Crossing. "Send
one of the stable lads to me," she told Mrs. Honeywell. "I need
someone to deliver a message right away."

"Yes, miss. But about the gentleman
in the parlor. I don't think you can ignore him, you see"

"A gentleman should know better than
to call this early in the morning."

"But we've always been early risers
here"

"He can leave his card. Just. . .
just tell him whatever you must!" she exclaimed with an agitated wave of
her hand.

"Is everything all right, Miss
Jinx?" the housekeeper asked, a frown increasing the lines on her brow.
"You're not acting at all yourself."

Jinx heaved a great sigh, then slowly
turned to face Mrs. Honeywell. The stout little housekeeper had been with the
Benchleys for over twenty years. She'd proven her loyalty through the fat years
and lean, through good times and bad. In truth, there was no reason not to tell
her what Colin had done. Perhaps she might have some idea where to begin.

Jinx held the crumpled letter out to her.
"Colin has done something so stupid, so outrageous, that it defies the
extremes of every Benchley eccentricity to date. And as you well know, that's
saying quite a lot."

Mrs. Honeywell took the letter and,
squinting to see, pored over the words. "He's in love. What's so terrible
about that for a lad of three and twenty? Oh." She grimaced. "He's
run off to Gretna Green. Still and all, though you mayn't have wanted that for
him, Jinx girl, I wouldn't call that the most outrageous thing a Bench-ley's
ever done. Have you forgotten that your grandfather married his second wife on
board a ship bound for India? And your father"

"No, I haven't forgotten," Jinx
interrupted. "But finish the letter. Finish it. See whom he's run off
with? This Lady Alice. Oh!" She grasped her head with both hands.
"How could he?"

Mrs. Honeywell frowned. "I don't
believe I know a Lady Alice."

Jinx began to pace. "Of course you
don't know her. I don't know her either and it's because her family is not the
sort to stoop so low as to hobnob with families such as ours."

"The Benchleys are a fine family,
gentlemen and ladies all, and as good as anybody," the housekeeper stated.
"Besides, your uncle's a viscount and your father was a great
scholar."

"Thank you, Mrs. Honeywell. Your
loyalty is commendable. Unfortunately, Lady Alice's brother is not likely to be
impressed with any young gentleman whose uncle is a mere viscount. He'll never
countenance an untitled and penniless gentleman farmer for a brother-in-law.
Here. Look." She rustled around on her desk, toppling a stack of articles
about water rights in her agitation. When she found the two-month-old edition
of the Sunday Times, she stabbed a finger at an item on the front page.
"She's practically the most eligible young lady who came out last year.
Why would she choose to run off with our Colin?"

But Jinx knew the answer to that. So did
Mrs. Honeywell. "Because he's the most charming lad in the world,"
the older woman said, beaming with so much pride you'd think the rapscallion
was her own flesh and blood. "Handsome, good-hearted, and with the most
winning ways. Any sensible girl would want our Colin for a husband."

Jinx rolled her eyes and threw the
outdated paper down. "Well, it won't do her a bit of good to marry him.
For when her brother learns of this, he'll kill Colin. Mark my words, he will kill
him."

"Now, Miss Jinx. Don't carry on so.
It'll turn out all right. You know, you might take a lesson from your

brother and reconsider that offer Mr.
Tonkton made for you"

"I am not interested in marrying
Herbert Tonkton and that is not the point. The situation with Colin and this
Lady Alice will not turn out all right. Her brother is not the type to let it
turn out all right. You forget, I had two seasons in town, and while I never
met him, I saw him several times. He was the one who fought three duels and was
banished from court for as many years."

That got the housekeepers attention.
"The one who fought the three duels? Oh, my. I do remember. Oh, my!"
she repeated. "That's why his name sounded so familiar." She
pressed a knotted handkerchief to her lips. "Oh, my. Whatever are we to
do, miss?"

Jinx plopped down onto the only clear
space on a settee stacked with books opened to various pages. "I don't
know. That's why I thought I might consult with our solicitor. He may have some
idea of how to proceed."

"Oh, but there isn't time for
that!"

"You may be right. Perhaps I should
start after Colin right away." She jumped to her feet again. "I could
take the curricle. It's old, but it's fast."

"No, no, miss. You don't understand.
There's no time for that!"

"Well, what else am I to do?"
Jinx exclaimed, exasperated by the fix Colin had put them in. "He's
certainly not going to come back on his own."

For some reason, Mrs. Honeywell was
pointing at the door, and her eyes were round as saucers. "Your gentleman
caller."

"I told you, I don't have time for visitors
today. I should think that perfectly obvious by now."

"But it's him."

"Him? Him who?" Then a terrible
thought occurred to Jinx. A frightening thought, so awful she dared not believe
it possible. "Him who?" she asked again, though this time in a whisper.

Mrs. Honeywell thrust a card at her. Jinx
took it with trepidation. An exquisite example of the stationer's art. A
simple, elegantly printed script. Harrison Stirling, Marquis of Hartley.

"Bees knees!" Jinx exclaimed,
then sat down hard. Harrison Stirling. The murderous marquis, he was called,
and hot-blooded Harry. The man was already searching for his sisterand for
Colin. And he was in her front parlor! Everything she'd ever heard about
the man flashed through her head. A terrible temper. A vengeful nature. He had
money and power enough to buy his way back into Prinny's favor, it seemed. Six
years ago he'd been considered quite the catch, though most of the young ladies
had been in awe of him. Still, money and a title were a heady lure. Added to that,
he was also devastatingly handsome. He'd never lacked for female companionship.
But so far as she knew, he hadn't yet married. If he was that particular for
himself, how much more so must he be for his only sister?

Jinx swallowed hard and tried to curb her
runaway emotions. She must think! If Colin were to survive this dreadful
incident, Lord Hartley must be put off the trail. The fact that he knew enough
to come to Benchley House was not a good sign, but Jinx could not let that
deter her.

She pushed to her feet and nervously
smoothed her old kersey skirt. She must send Lord Hartley off in the wrong
direction, then immediately go after Colin herself.

And once she found her charming fool of a
brother and had him safe, she would wring his handsome neck that is, unless
Lord Hartley beat her to the task.

Heads would roll, Harrison vowed as he
waited impatiently at the parlor window. If his information was right and Colin
Benchley had run off with his sister . . . His hands tightened into fists.
There would be hell to pay.

By rights he should have been exhausted.
He'd spent the entire night grilling anyone who might have some inkling of Alice's whereabouts. Her maid had kept mum, weeping incessantly as he alternately cajoled
her, then threatened her. That had been the first clue: Alice had sworn the
misguided maid to secrecy. But the girl's father had proven more forthcoming.
Three gold sovereigns in the man's hand, and he'd convinced the daughter
swiftly enough to talk.

Still, all he'd gotten was a name. Colin
Benchley. A few more inquiries at his various clubs, and he'd learned that the
cad was one of the Hampshire Benchleys. The eccentric ones, not the titled
ones.

He'd have strangled the man, had he been
anywhere to be found in town. But Benchley was not in London, and at four in
the morning Harrison had set off for Hampshire, his valet in close pursuit. A
shepherd boy had directed him to Benchley House; a milkmaid in the courtyard
had informed him that Master Colin was not presently in residence, but that Miss
Jinx was.

Miss Jinx. What .sort of name was that?
he fumed. And where in hell was she?

The door creaked and he turned, and for a
moment just one, very brief momenthe forgot what had brought him racing
through the night to such an out-of-the-way place. For that one fraction of a
second, he just stood there, transfixed by the woman who glided into the room.

She was not what he'd expected.

Not that she didn't live up to her odd
name. But he'd expected someone older, someone frivolous and flustered because
a marquis had come to call. By contrast, Jinx Benchley was young and slender,
and possessed of the most outrageous mane of auburn hair he'd ever laid eyes
on. She was dressed all in lavender, with splashes of yellow and green. A
gypsyish scarf was draped over her shoulders. A bright ribbon fought to hold
back the masses of her long, thick curls.

He caught the fragrance of her perfume, a
blend of flowers and exotic spices. And with every step she made, tiny bells
tinkled.

Then she spoke, and he blinked and came
back to reality.

"I hope you've come to advise me
where my brother is," she stated in a calm, well-modulated voice, tinged
with irritation.

Harrison frowned at the
woman's abrupt remark. No introduction. He gave her a curt bow. "I regret
to impose upon you so early in the day, but you plainly know my mission. I am
Harrison Stirling, Marquis of Hartley."

"Yes, yes. And I am Jillian
Benchley, sister of Colin. Dp you bring me word of him?"

"I was advised to speak with a Miss
Jinx Benchley."

She waved one hand. The bells trilled
again. Where did she wear them? "I am Jinx. 'Tis a pet name given me by my
father. But tell me, what word have you of Colin?"

Jinx waited breathlessly for the
marquis's response. It had taken but one glance for her to know he deserved
every bit of his reputation. Tall, well built, and furious. His eyes were black
with suppressed rage. His hands flexed and tightened into fists, as if he
imagined them wrapped around Colin's throat.

Poor Colin, she fretted, worrying her
lower lip. What had he been thinking to antagonize a man like the Marquis of
Hartley? But it was too late to regret Colin's folly. Now she must somehow work
to ameliorate it.

She willed herself to be calm. She must
do whatever necessary to divert the man, and that meant preventing Lord Hartley
from setting off for Gretna Green in pursuit of the wayward couple.

She crossed the room toward him, beating
back the absurd impression that she was entering a lion's den. This was her
house, not his. No harm could befall her at Benchley House. "I should like
to find them as soon as possible and bury any word of this unfortunate incident
before it gets out," she said breezily. "As, I'm certain, do
you."

He crossed his arms, presenting a truly
threatening image. "I'd like to bury something, all right."

"There's no cause for such talk as
that," she snapped at him. "We are dealing with two foolish young
people who, no doubt, think they are in love."

"In love with her money," he
scoffed.

Jinx smiled, a deliberately smug,
superior smile. "You do not know my brother very well if you think that.
Money does not count with him."

"Really? Then he's the only young
man in England to feel that way."

She meant to control her temper.
Truly she did. But rudeness toward her darling Colin, and in her own home, was
too much for anyone to bear. She tilted her chin up. "Pray tell, is that
why you remain unwed? You've not yet found a woman rich enough to please
you?"

His eyes narrowed and for a moment Jinx
thought he might loose his famous temper upon her. But what could he do, she
thought, bolstering her courage. Strike her? He would not dare. Threaten to
ruin her family? The Benchleys were so far removed from the Hartleys' rank in
society that she was surprised he'd managed even to find Benchley House.

That left only insults and verbal
sparring, and in that venue Jinx trusted herself to hold her own.

To his credit, he did not resort to any
of those. Still, the frost in his voice was enough to chill her to the bone.
"It is not my motives which are in question, Miss Bench-ley, but your
brother's. Do you perchance know where he is?"

"No." Not specifically.

"But you knew that he was gone and
that I had reason to be searching for him. Did he inform you of his plans to
run away with my sister?"

With a great show of frustration, Jinx
turned and walked to the window. In truth, however, she needed desperately to
break the hold of Lord Hartley's intense gaze. She feared he would see through
any small fib she made, and even though her motives were pureto save her brother's
foolish skinshe did not want to lie to this man. After all, his motives were
also commendable: to save his sister from a marriage few guardians would
approve. She could not find fault with him for that.

Perhaps she should take a different tack.
She turned to face him again. "I learned of this unfortunate situation
just minutes prior to your arrival." She sighed. "My first thought
was to go after him and stop him, but then you appeared. Tell me, what do you
plan to do when you find them?"

When his jaw began rhythmically to clench
and releaseclench and releaseshe went on. "I know your reputation, Lord
Hartley. Even here in the hinterlands we've heard tales of the murderous
marquis. You will understand, therefore, my extreme interest in your answer.
What do you intend to do?"

Their eyes locked. Jinx fancied she saw
the workings of his mind. He weighed her value to his search against his need
to vow his vengeance. She saw clearly the moment he dismissed her impact on his
plans.

"I intend to challenge him to a
duel," he stated calmly. Coldly. "I intend to do my level best to rid
me and my sister of him forever."

Fury banished .every other emotion Jinx
felt. She drew herself up, jerking her shawl closer around her shoulders.
"I'll thank you to get out of my house. This very minute," she
ordered.

"Not until I see the letter he left
you. The one you apparently discovered this morning."

"I didn't say he left a letter. For
all you know, he told me himself."

In a moment he was across the room, mere
inches from her. He was so much taller, so much more threatening up close. She
would have stepped back, but he caught her by the shoulders. "Is he here?
Is Alice here?"

"How dare you lay hands upon me,
sir! Release me at once!"

"The truth, Miss Benchley. Where are
they? What do you know about this affair?"

"Enough to know I will not cooperate
with the likes of you! Enough to understand why your poor sister would flee
your protection for Colin's!"

He let go of her with an oath. "Alice is not fleeing me, though you may console yourself with thinking so. She no doubt
fancies herself in lovean honest error for an innocent such as she. But I've
learned enough about your brother to know he is not so innocent. You Benchleys
have a reputation for being outlandish. Eccentrics. You do not fit in with the
rest of proper society."

Jinx rubbed her hands over the places
he'd held her. Though he'd not hurt her, the press of his fingers yet left
their mark. "If we are eccentric, it is only because the rules of your
society are so stifling as to kill any hope of creativity and happiness. Your
rules are for small minds, and we Benchleys do not have small minds. Go
on," she ordered. "Leave here. Chase after your sister. She has
obviously made a love match with my brother and I have no doubt that she and
Colin are supremely happy together, else they would not have risked your anger.
But what have they to fear?" she added bitingly. " 'Tis clear Alice is possessed of a much broader intelligence than her narrow-minded brother. I should
think she and Colin will have no trouble at all outwitting you. Good day, sir.
I have nothing further to say to you."

 

Chapter Two

 

Jinx watched from the parlor window as
Harrison Stirling stalked across the gravel front court, toward the stables. A
little shiver snaked through her, and she rubbed her arms distractedly. The
Marquis of Hartley would make a dire enemy. Did Colin have any inkling of the
danger he'd put himself in?

Bits and pieces of old gossip filtered up
from her memory. Lord Hartley had been quite as terrible a rake as society had
ever seen. Drinking. Gambling. Whoring. Not to mention the dueling. And he had
the gall to think Colin unsuitable! Then again, she'd heard reformed rakes made
the strictest fathersor guardians, in this case.

Except that Harrison Stirling hardly
appeared to be reformed. The man was all temper and muscle and ruthless
determination. Up close she'd been too involved in their confrontation to
notice details of his appearance. But from the safety of her parlor window she
could now be more detached.

In truth, Lord Hartley cut a most
impressive figure not unusual for a rake of the sporting set. The long,
muscular legs of a horseman. The broad shoulders of a fencer. The powerful arms
of a boxing enthusiast.

Colin did those things, too, she reminded
herself. But

Harrison Stirling was half a head taller
than her brother, and fairly two stone heavier, she'd wager.

If Lord Hartley caught up with him, Colin
was a dead duck.

But only if Hartley caught up with him.

Her eyes narrowed, following the arrogant
marquis until he disappeared beyond her prized topiary clipped in the shape of
dragons. He would assume Colin and Alice had set off for Gretna Green as,
according to fifer brother's letter, they had. But there were two main routes
headed north, and any number of lesser routes. Colin would not wish to be
caught. So which route would he take?

She bit her lip and fiddled with the lace
curtain, still staring at the leafy dragons that formed an arch with their
tails. She should have asked Lord Hartley where Lady Alice had disappeared
from, London or a country estate. Colin had last been at home on Friday. Then
he'd departed for town to meet their cousin Alfredor so he'd said. He'd known
she meant to spend a long weekend in Caulfield with her friend Virginia, who'd
recently had her third child. That's why the wretch had left the note on her
desk. He'd counted on her not finding it until Tuesday morning. It was pure
chance she'd cut her visit a little short. Still, he had three days' head start
on her.

"Lizard legs," she swore. She
was wasting time. She needed to get under way, but only after Harrison Stirling
was well away from Benchley House.

But he didn't leave and didn't leave, and
when Jinx could bear to wait no longer, she stormed out to the stables. She
found him in the carriage house, with the stable workers lined up, thoroughly
cowed by his relentless questioning.

". . . so no carriage is
missing?"

The three stablemen nodded their heads in
unison. Jinx wanted to scream. She would have asked them the very same thing,
had she been provided time enough to think of it. But if Lord Hartley thought
he could instigate a private inquisition on her property, he was very much
mistaken.

"Darren. Clifton. Rob. You are all
dismissed. Go about your work," she ordered in crisp tones. Grateful, they
bobbed their heads and practically sprinted from the shaded carriage house.
Then she turned on Lord Hartley and his man. She crossed her arms and gave him
her severest look. "I believe I asked you to leave."

He raised one dark brow in a maddening
display of arrogance. "So you did. And in so doing, you no doubt think to
delay my search. But I caution you, Miss Benchley. Do not think a relationship
to the Hartley name will benefit either you or your brother."

"Hah! I'm hardly so delusional as to
believe that. Though you may find this difficult to comprehend, not everyone
finds a connection to the upper nobility an asset. If the truth be told, I
cannot imagine a less welcome notion. You as my brother-in-law." She forced
a visible shudder.

Unfortunately, the insult she implied
just ricocheted off his superior attitude. "So you say. But the two
carriages you keep appear older than you." He gestured around them.
"There's a hole in the roof, judging by that spot of sunshine next to your
foot. And the entire' premises, both house and outbuildings, are in need of a
fresh coat of paint. You do not keep a butler. 'Tis obvious your finances are
not entirely in order. Added to that, the Benchley penchant for investing in
ridiculous inventions is well-known." He crossed his arms across his
chest, mirroring her pose. "Did I leave anything out?"

Jinx trembled with outrage. How dare he
reduce her family to the status of lowly money grubbers! She advanced on him,
fists knotted and eyes blazing. "How like an aristocrat to focus
purely on the physicaland the monetary. You have indeed left something out,
something which defines the Benchleys much more clearly than our financial
condition. We have a long history of making love matches. We Benchleys always
marry for love."

"For love?" he snorted.
"Perhaps. But love of what?"

Though it was clear she would have no
influence on his poor opinion of either her brother or her family, Jinx's
dander was up. She could not ignore his sarcasm. "I'll confess, I too find
it hard to imagine Colin falling in love with your sister. Given what I know of
you and your horrid reputation, I find myself hard-pressed to believe anything
good of your sister. Had Colin asked my opinion, I would have advised him to
avoid any connection with the Hartley line. But he did not ask my opinion, and
so I can only assume that he sees something in her worth loving. Despite all
the liabilities attached to her name, she must possess some redeeming grace for
them to have made a love match. At least I dearly hope so."

The words had tumbled out in a violent
rush, a sarcastic sermon that left her breathless. But as she came up for air,
she realized he was staring at her with a strange glitter in his eyesand that
she'd advanced far too near him.

"Were you a man," he said,
"I'd call you out for insulting my family in such a manner."

Jinx swallowed hard. "Were I a man,
I would already have called you out," she vowed. "If you will recall,
you insulted my family first"

"But you're not a man, are
you?" he observed in a voice that no longer sounded angry. It was no
longer loud, either. In fact, there was a disturbingly husky quality to it
which, when coupled with his intent gaze, seemed more seductive than anything
else.

And she could feel herself responding to
it.

Oh, help! a little voice cried from
somewhere inside

her. While she trusted herself to match
wits with the man, she'd not considered that he might try to seduce her.
Stupid, stupid girl. He was not considered a rake for nothing!

She took a hasty step backward. "I
think you should leave, Lord Hartley. Colin is not here and I cannot help
you."

"Cannot? Or will not?" His eyes
ran over her in a slow perusal that shot the most inappropriate prickles of
awareness through her. He was trying to disarm her with his famous charm. And
she'd almost let him.

But not anymore.

She wrapped her arms around her waist and
when his eyes locked once more with hers, she deliberately let her eyes go
crossed. It was an old childhood ploy, one she'd often used to distract Colin.
Now, though, she used it to distract herself. If she could not see Lord
Hartley's handsome face and slumberous gaze, they could not affect her.

"What are you doing?"

Jinx started at his sudden question,
again stepping backward. But her crossed eyes made her awkward. She lost her
balance and might even have fallen had not Lord Hartley caught her. By the time
her eyes were straight, he had her laid down on the dusty stable floor.

"Are you all right?" He knelt
over her, his face but inches from hers. "Can you hear me?" He patted
her cheek rather sharply. "Miss Benchley, can you hear me?"

"I can hear you!" She batted
his hand away.

He looked immeasurably relieved. "It
appears you may have fainted."

"I did not faint." She
struggled up on her elbows. "I never faint. Would you please move?"

"Are you subject to fits, then? Your
eyes went crossed." ,

"I know they did," she fumed,
feeling like an idiot.

"I see. Do they do that often?"

She glared at him. "It depends on
whether or not I want them to." She crossed her eyes for emphasis, then
uncrossed them.

His brow furrowed as he stared at her,
and all at once Jinx became acutely conscious of their odd position. She lay on
the carriage-house floor with a stranger kneeling over hera famous town rake,
no less. Pray God none of the servants were near enough to see. Of course, it
might be better if someone were nearby, for Harrison Stirling was again
studying her with that disturbingly intent gaze of his.

Then his eyes crossed and she couldn't
help it. She burst out laughing.

He started laughing, too, and for a
moment, at least, the two of them were in accord. But when he helped her
upright, their humor could not last. The dire circumstances of their meeting
precluded it. Slowly their laughter faded, and she took a careful step back
from him.

"We are agreed that a marriage
between Colin and Alice is unwise," she said, sober now. "Can we not
also agree on how to deal with their reckless behavior?"

His jaw became stern. "I cannot
allow them to wed, and I will do whatever I can to prevent it."

"And if you are too late to prevent
it?"

Their gazes locked, and the most
ludicrous thought leapt into Jinx's head: if only they'd met under different
circumstances. Then reason prevailed and she buried that insane notion. This
was Lord Hartley, notorious rake, deadly duelist. Holding her breath, she
repeated her question. "What if you are too late?"

After a long, tense moment he replied.
"I won't be."

She heard the threat in his voice and
chose to read the worst into his words. What else could she do? "I think
it's time you left."

He made no move to comply. "They
went to Gretna Green, I take it."

"I imagine so. Good day, Lord
Hartley." She turned to depart but he caught her by the arm.

"It would be better if you cooperate
with me, Miss Benchley. It would be in everyone's best interest if I found them
before he has the chance to completely ruin her."

"By society's standardsyour
societyshe is ruined already."

"I have the wherewithal to remedy
that."

"Oh, yes. Your famous riches. All
that money that you have and we Benchleys do not." She gave him a tight
smile. "I have no information that can help you. He did not take one of
our carriages, but that signifies nothing. Perhaps your innocent little sister
provided the equipage."

"She did not."

"Then they rented a hack. Or could
they have chosen to travel by horseback?" she added, hoping to gain some
snippet of information from him.

He frowned and thought for a moment.
"I do not think Alice so adept a rider as to attempt such a long journey
by horseback."

But she was, Jinx thought. On
horseback she could make much faster time than could a hired hack. But first
she must rid herself of Harrison Stirling.

"However they travel, you but waste
your time speaking with me, Lord Hartley."

"Perhaps so. Then again, perhaps
not. I caution you, Miss Benchley, not to aid the runaways. You may delude
yourself into believing it possible to marry purely for love, but the rest of
English society is far more practical."

"Indeed. Since you are so practical,
then, you must realize that you do but waste your time lingering here. Get on
with you, Lord Hartley. Rescue your sister before a man who loves her can make
her his wife. Then hurry back to London before all the wealthy heiresses are
sto-

len out from under your nose. Be
practical," she taunted him. "Time is wasting."

Harrison bided his time, but
not easily. The quicktempered Miss Jinx Benchley was right. Time was wasting.
He needed to be practical, he needed to be on his way. And yet something made
him linger.

He'd ridden out of the gravel courtyard
fronting the Benchleys' very odd manor home with its myriad turrets and steep
roof walk. He made his way furiously beyond reach of the towering yew dragons,
past the half-sized Dutch windmill, and the miniaturely proportioned replica of
the classic Greek Pantheon. But once beyond the strange house and the
collection of outlandish follies that dotted the otherwise serene landscape, he
doubled back through the hunting park, his jaw grimly set, his frown securely in
place. Now he waited, along with Rogers, his valet, to see what Miss
High-and-Mighty Benchley was up to.

Though he did not like to admit itand
would do so only to himselfthe feisty Miss Benchley had scored a direct hit
with her pronouncements regarding the state of society matrimonies. He doubted
her claim that everyone in her family had made love matches. Still, it raised
the question of whether it was possible these days for anyone to marry
for that nebulous reason.

He stared beyond his sheltered bower and
across the damp meadows, just rousing to the bright sunlight burning through
the morning fog. But he did not see the sheep that dotted the lush green
landscape, nor the meandering stone walls that marked fields in use for a
thousand years and more. Instead he pictured his sister, Alice, and their last
conversation.

She'd been very upset, almost to the
point of tears. But she hadn't cried, even when he'd browbeaten her about Arlen
Forrester, Lord Meever. That had been eight days ago. He'd gone blithely on to Winchester afterward, sure in his conceit that she would come around to his way of
thinking. After all, Lord Meever was not too oldher objection to Lord Barton.
He was not a sother objection to Lord Tinsdale. Nor was he a womanizerher
objection to Lord Lamkin. Barton, Tinsdale, and Lamkin had each been well
connected, with solid family names and deep pockets. But Harrison recognized
now that none of them had truly been right for his sweet younger sister.

Arlen Forrester, however, had no such
flaws.

Alice had called the man dull as dirt, and
perhaps he was. But that was hardly a fatal flaw, and indeed, he might make a
better husband for it. He was a conscientious fellow who took his
responsibilities seriously.

Yet the thought of marrying Forrester had
sent Alice straight into the arms of a penniless opportunist who'd promptly
dragged her off to Gretna Green.

No doubt she believed herself in love
with the man, and for that Harrison was prepared to forgive her. Benchley,
however, would receive no such leniency. For Colin Benchley had taken advantage
of a green girl, and Harrison meant to punish him dearly for his audacity.

Unfortunately, Harrison could not escape
some portion of the blame himself. He'd left Alice alone too much. Then when
he'd decided she was ready for marriage, he'd tried to rush her into it.

He, of all people, should have known that
the selection of a mate could not be rushed. It had been three years since he'd
decided to select a wife and produce the heir he knew his position demanded.
Three years, three seasons, and not one eligible miss he'd go so far as to
actually commit a lifetime to. Whether silly or serious, titled or merely
wealthy, not one of the many young women he'd danced and flirted with had moved
him to propose marriage.

Not that he was waiting for love to
strike, as Jinx Benchley obviously was. She was already old enough to be
considered on the shelf. Before long she'd be a confirmed spinster. And all in
the name of love.

But that was not his problem. He was not
waiting for love.

The fact remained, however, that he'd not
found the right woman for himself. So why had he presumed he could find the
right man for Alice? That didn't mean he could allow Alice to choose her own
husband without some guidance from him. This disaster with Benchley was proof
that she was not capable of it. Still, Harrison knew he'd been a lackluster
guardian to his much younger sister. He'd not sufficiently considered her
feelings regarding marriage. He would have to do better in the future.

He waited silently in the woodland bower.
Above him a pair of mating squirrels tore around the trunk of a towering oak,
chasing one another in a dizzying upward spiral. His sleek mount stamped one
foot and nickered softly to Rogers's placid mare. Love was in the air. Then he
grimaced at such an idiotic notion. Not love, but lust.

He frowned and shifted uneasily in the
saddle. Squirrels. Horses. Young men. Did Alice feel lust for this Benchley?
Was that what she found missing in Lord Meever?

Harrison didn't like to think
of his sister that way, nor of any innocent young woman of good breeding.

You thought of Miss Jinx Benchley that
way, a
silent voice accused.

His fist tightened on the reins. The
horse tossed its head, restless from the wait. Maybe for a moment or two he'd
thought of Miss Benchley that way. But then, why shouldn't he? She was not,
after all, your typical gentleman's daughter. Her wild red hair, her eccentric
wardrobe. The intriguing fragrance that clung to her.

Those bells that tinkled when she moved.

Any right-thinking man could be forgiven
for harboring less-than-wholesome thoughts about such a vibrant creature. Even
her temper had sparked his interest, for she was no shy, mumbling child,
intimidated by either his anger or his physical presence.

And her voice, confident and yet musical

"Look, milord," Rogers called, interrupting Harrison's inappropriate musings. "Someone's leaving the
manor grounds."

Cursing himself for a fool, Harrison leaned forward, focusing at once on the distant rider. At first he was
disappointed. It was a man, for he rode astride. Then his eyes narrowed. The
rider's hat nearly fell off and a long knot of hair unfurled down his back. Her
back, Harrison realized when the sunlight struck sparks off the rich red
mass. Jinx Benchley, riding astride in some sort of combination of breeches and
skirt. He could hardly believe it! She thundered down the road, trailed by
another rider. One of the stable men, he would guess.

So, she was off to find her brother
herselfno doubt to warn the wretch that someone was hot on his trail. Harrison had been right to wait, and now he meant to follow her straight to the runaway
pair.

But as he turned his horse and picked his
way along the edge of the woods, following the direction Miss Jinx Benchley
took, he resolved to put aside the baser feelings the woman had roused in him.

Yes, she was attractive, but it was in an
exotic sort of way. Yes, she was quick-witted, but she was also a sharp-tongued
shrew, far too argumentative for his taste. And though she sat a horse
admirably, almost as if she'd been born astride, that was not a talent a proper
young lady need possess.

But for all her oddities, she was still a
gentlewoman. She was young and well bred, despite her odd manner, outspoken
ways, and outrageous behavior. Besides that, she was Colin Benchley's sister,
and the last woman he should get involved with. He meant to follow her, that
was all, and to use her to find Alice.

He leaned forward, urging his horse
forward. The chase was on and, like a hound sharp on the heels of a wily
red-haired vixen, he meant to pursue his quarry until he had her trappedand
with her, her brother and his foolish sister.

 

Chapter Three

 

Colin Benchley made his way down to the
stables, ostensibly to check on the horses. But in truth, he needed time alone
to debate his next move.

The first night he and Alice had stayed
at an inn outside of Oxford. Alice had slept in the bed; he'd shifted fitfully
all night on a chair that had long lost its padding. The second night they'd
rested at an out-of-the-way abbey, passing themselves off as brother and
sister. If the good brothers had suspected the truth, they'd kept it to
themselves. He'd slept but little on the lumpy pallet given him in the men's
quarters.

Two miserable nights. Two pitiful
accommodations. His exquisite Alice deserved so much better. That's why they'd
stopped earlier this evening, at a prosperous-looking coaching inn near
Ballycoat. He'd taken a suite of rooms more in keeping with what Alice deserved.

And yet, wasn't he deluding himself? He
could never provide for her as she deserved. And though he loved Benchley Manor
and it was his home, he knew it did not begin to compare even to the least of Alice's brother's holdings.

He had no right to deprive her of her
family wealth. How could he ever have been so selfish as to think he did?

He looked in on his team of weary horses,
then gave the stable boy tuppence for extra rations. But instead of returning
to Alice, he hesitated in the musty stable.

He wanted her so badly, he ached. But
he'd vowed not to dishonor her by taking her innocence outside the bounds of
matrimony. She was so beautiful, though. He wasn't sure he could bear another
night sharing a room with her and yet not sharing a bed.

God, but he was so confused! He loved her
and he wanted to marry her and take care of her and spend all the days of his
life with her. But he was going about it all wrong. He could see that now.
Despite her objections, he should have gone to her brother. It was the right
thing to do, and it was still not too late to do it.

Resolved, he turned and strode back
toward the inn. They would start back in the morning. He would have to make her
understand that no matter how her brother might react, they must return and ask
his approval.

She did not answer when he knocked. He
knocked harder; still no reply. Alarmed, Colin turned the latch and peered
inside. What he saw set his heart racing and blood rushing to his loins. For Alice stood in the window, backlit by a stupendous sunset which made her lounging gown all
but disappear.

He saw a tiny waist and sweetly rounded
hips outlined beneath the diaphanous fabric. He saw long, shapely legs. His
honorable intentions turned to mush in the face of her innocently silhouetted
femininity. The words he meant to say evaporated in the heat of the moment.
Then she spoke, an angel who was more tempting than even the devil, and he was
finally and irrevocably lost.

"Colin, I cannot wait any longer. I
cannot bear to delay until we travel all the way to Scotland, my love. Please,
Colin, make me your wife tonight. Now. Please . . ."

* * *

Jinx sat at the crossroads, staring first
down the road to Logan Fields, then down the one that led to Martinton. Her
horse blew and stamped, and she patted its neck. "Not much farther today,
Daffodil," she murmured to the tiring mare. "You'll have your dinner
and your rub-down soon enough. But where?" she added to herself.

She heard Rob approach on his slower
horse. "Miss Jinx, this ain't right, an' well you know it. You can't be
ridin' across the countryside this way. Why, if himself was here he'd be"

"If my father were still alive, he'd
be doing exactly as I am," she vowed. She fixed a fierce look upon the
aging servant. "I am grateful for your loyalty, Rob, but I will not have
you lecturing me all the way to Scotland."

"There you go again with Scotland. We can't go gal-livantin' all the way to Scotland. Don't you know them Scots is a
bunch of madmen, wear in' skirts, screamin' like banshees?"

"Mama was half Scots," Jinx
reminded the squat stable master.

He frowned, for he'd dearly loved Jinx's
mother. " 'Tis only the men as is mad," he grumbled.

"Be that as it may, I'm going there.
Colin must be prevented from marrying this girl."

"Ah, but miss, what if we get there
too late to stop him?"

She stared down the two roads again, one
wide and well traveled, the other a rough choice for a carriage. She could not
be too late. But if she was . . . "If we're too late to prevent Colin
making such an unwise marriage, then we'll probably be just in time to prevent
him being murdered by his new wife's brother."

On that grim note she turned onto the
wider road. Colin would not want his true love jounced about in the carriage.
He would want to provide for the easiest journey possible, wouldn't he?

"Bee's knees," she muttered,
then urged Daffodil on.

"We make for Logan Fields," she
called back to Rob. "Turn back if you like, or follow along. But do not
annoy me with advice I refuse to heed, else you will find yourself picking
berries for your supper and bedding down in the fields with the hares and field
mice.",

Not that she would follow through with
her threat; not that Rob believed a word of it. But it was a measure of her
determination to save her love-struck brother from a disastrous matchand a
fatal confrontation with Lord Hartleythat she would even vow such a thing.

As the sun lowered over the pastoral
lands of northern Oxfordshire, Jinx made for Logan Fields with Rob following
along behind her. She was hungry and thirsty and her bottom ached from long
hours in the saddle. She'd made very good time, but all she wanted now was a
hot bath and to never wear these chafing breeches again.

Unfortunately, tomorrow promised only
more of the same, and the next day as well. It would take all her energy to
reach Gretna Green before Colin did.

She fumed angrily as she rode. The list
of grievances against her brother mounted steadily. When she finally found the
wretch, he would have much to account for.

She only prayed he lived long enough to
do it.

Harrison stood before her
door. The hall was dim. The hour was late. Miss Benchley's servant had bedded
down in one of the crowded attic rooms. She had taken a moderately priced
single room on the third story. As for himself, he'd taken finer accommodations
on the second story, but he'd not been able to sleep. A coin here and there,
and he'd discovered all he need know: she'd taken supper in her room; she'd
paid extra for a bath. She did not know he trailed her and, on the whole, he
was satisfied with this day's work. But he was restless. A bottle of red wine
had not deadened his mind. Rather than start a second bottleand pay dearly for
it with a headache on the morrowhe'd stalked up the stairs and stood glaring
at her door.

He ought to pound the door until it
rattled on its hinges. He ought to startle her awake and make her tell him
where the runaway pair were, for he was certain she knew more than she'd
revealed. The fact that she'd undertaken this insane journey proved that.

He raised his fist to the door, then with
a shuddering sigh, spread his fingers and instead pressed his palm flat against
the wooden barrier. He was behaving like a madman. Too much wine, too little
sleep, and more frustration than he was accustomed to. These Benchleys were
even more outrageous than the gossips made them out to be. Brother and sister
alike, they were impulsive, shortsighted, and selfish.

He slid his hand back and forth, the
width of the wood panel, and his thoughts grew even more churlish. It was his
damnably poor luck that Jinx was so unexpectedly attractive. Not that she was
the sort that usually drew him. He preferred cool, elegant blondes, with an
occasional vibrant brunette thrown in for variation. Redheads, particularly
eccentric ones, had never been to his taste.

Unfortunately, he found this particular
redhead precisely to his taste. She was smart and loyal and not easily
intimidated, a combination not often found in a woman, especially in a young,
beautiful one. Added to that, she triggered the most primitive reaction in him.
He'd had the entire day to ponder that fact, and now .just the thought of her
made him hot. Standing outside her room, knowing she lay unclothed in her bed,
sent a river of fire coursing to his loins.

"Bloody hell!" he muttered,
yanking his hand back from the door. He was behaving like a fool, and all on
account of her. If her brother possessed even half the allure of his sister, it
was no wonder innocent Alice had run off with the man.

But his goal was to follow Jinx Benchley,
not seduce heror be seduced by her.

Knotting his hands, he thrust his fists
into his pockets and turned away. He needed more wine, and damn the
consequences!

The morning was dreadful. Jinx got an
early start. She'd not slept well. Though she had never displayed the same
predisposition for visions or predictions that her mother had, all night she'd
been bothered by a series of confusing dreams. Colin and a faceless bride. A
baby in her own arms. Lord Hartley laughing in a joyful manner. He'd looked so
much younger laughing. But what had he been laughing about? And whose baby had
she held, Colin and Alice's, or her own?

So she'd risen gladly from her restless
bed and before the sun had appeared above the Chiltern Hills she'd been on her
way, with Rob trailing unhappily behind her. There had been one bit of good
news, however. The stableman on duty remembered Colin and Alice. A tall
auburn-haired young gentleman and a china-doll beautiful young lady.

She'd picked the right road. That was
something, at least.

But then the rains had come, turning the
road to slop, and it had become hard to remain optimistic. She was wet and
hungry when they made Bicester, but she did not linger any longer than
necessary to eat, and to refresh the horses. Just beyond the village the
drizzle eased. But within an hour another mishap: Rob's mare came up lame.

"The ostler said Banbury was a
four-hour ride in good conditions. It makes more sense for you to return to
Bicester," Jinx told Rob.

"And what of you, miss? Surely you
cannot plan to go on with this chuckle-headed scheme. Not alone."

"I most certainly can. Here."
She dug into her hastily

packed portmanteau, tied behind her
saddle. "Here's coin enough to take care of both you and Dolly. If you
just follow the same path south, you should find your way home once her leg is
better."

" 'Tis not meself I'm worried
about!" the man cried. "You cannot mean to ride on alone, and all the
way to the Scots land."

The truth was, Jinx did not want to go on
alone. The farther north they rode, the less sure of herself she became. But
she refused to reveal as much to Rob. The fact was, she had no choice. If she
could not prevent Colin from acting on his foolish scheme, at least she could
stand beside him when he faced the dangerous Harrison Stirling.

She peeled a still-damp lock of hair from
her neck and thrust it behind her shoulder. "It's pointless to argue with
me, Rob, for you know I will do precisely as I please. Soon enough I will find
Colin, and then I will be perfectly safe."

Harrison watched the tableau
being played out in the curve of the road below him, and though he could not
hear them, he could imagine full well the drift of the conversation. The
stableman's horse was limping, and the poor fellow thought a practical argument
would sway his mistress into turning back. Hah! After only two conversations
with the woman, Harrison knew better. Miss Benchley meant to press on alone,
leaving the worried servant to tend the lame horse. Foolish girl! Had she any
idea the myriad disasters that might befall a woman traveling alone?

Except that she would not be alone, for
he was right behind her. He grinned and glanced over at his unhappy valet.
"Take heart, Rogers. From this point on I'll not require your company.
Provide Miss Benchley's servant with whatever assistance he requires. Meanwhile,
I will go on alone and tend to Miss Benchley's needs myself."

It was nowhere near sunset. Jinx tilted
her head up, gauging the bruised-looking sky. It was only the low-hanging
clouds that gave the impression of impending night. They were heavy with rain,
threatening at any moment to douse her once more.

How much farther to Banbury?

This part of Oxfordshire was not nearly
so well populated as the southern portion. She'd passed near a tiny village
some miles past, and had spied a pleasant farmhouse down one hill. If worse
came to worst, she could seek shelter in some respectable-looking rural
household.

Then again, what respectable household
would welcome a woman traveling alone?

For the hundredth time she regretted her
hasty decision to send Rob back to Bicester. If the weather would only
cooperate, her journey would not be so difficult. But the rain had made the
roads treacherous as well as dampened her enthusiasm for her task.

She tugged her scarf over her head. At
least she was not totally soaked. Yet.

The road turned and she urged Daffodil up
the incline. The game little mare was as tired as she, but she responded with
renewed effort. They had nearly surmounted the hill when the animal lost its
footing in a patch of slick gravel. Daffodil nearly went down, and if she had,
it might have been disastrous. But the horse managed to stay upright. It was
Jinx who could not keep her balance.

She grabbed wildly for the saddle horn,
but it was useless. With a shriek of frustration and a whoosh of skirts, she landed
hard in the middle of the sodden road. Added to that ignominy, the clouds chose
at that very moment to spill their unhappy bounty.

It was as if the storm mocked her, she
fumed, lying flat on her back, trying to catch her breath. First the clouds tittered,
then they chuckled. Finally they guffawed, buckets and buckets of drowning
laughter raining down upon her.

Jinx turned her face aside and covered
her eyes with one drenched arm. Nothing was broken. She'd scraped one palm and
her bottom would surely be bruised. But other than that she was unharmed. Yet
she continued to lie there, pelted by the storm, wallowing in a trough of
self-pity. How had she come to such a pathetic pass as this?

A streak of brilliant light and a violent
crack of thunder startled her out of her misery. Daffodil snorted and shied,
and before Jinx could grab for the reins, the mare was off, tail raised like a
flag as she skittered over the crest of the hill and vanished from sight.

"No. No!" Jinx scrambled for
footing, trying to give chase. But her soaked skirts were too heavy, even
without petticoats. She slipped and stumbled again, cursing the horse, the
weather, and most of all, her idiotic, love-struck brother.

She didn't hear the rider until he was
almost upon her, and when she whirled about, she lost her footing again. Down
she went, this time in a thicket of heath. At least it cushioned her fall, but
her most comfortable riding suit would never be the same. "Bee's
knees," she swore, wiping rain from her brow. Then sheltering her eyes
from the driving rain, she looked up from her humiliating positionand nearly
swooned!

Harrison Stirling! What was he doing
here? And why must he come along now, when she looked like a fool, a pathetic,
bedraggled fool? She let out an audible groan.

He dismounted, then bent over her.
"Are you all right?"

Though his face showed the appropriate
amount of concern, Jinx was not impressed. He wore a wide-brimmed hat and an
oil-cloth cape, and though he was somewhat damp, he was not drenched, nor
humiliated, as was she.

He crouched beside her and touched her
shoulder. "Are you hurt? Can you stand? Here, let me help you."

Gritting her teeth, she brushed his hand
aside. "If you will fetch my horse, I can manage the rest on my own."

By the time he returned with Daffodil,
Jinx was upright once more. But barely. The rain had ceased its initial rush
and had found a pace more to its liking. Had she been at home, she would have
stood in a window enjoying the pleasant drumming against the glass. She would
have listened for the gurgle of roof water angled with gutters and fanciful
spouts into a veritable fountain, a project of her grandfather Benchley.

But here, on this sodden hill, in
who-knew-where Oxfordshire, she took no pleasure at all from the rain. She was
cold and drenched to the bone. She could hardly move, her clothes weighed her
down so. Added to that, she was exhausted and mortifiedand the day was not yet
done!

If he laughed at her, or tried to
browbeat her, or so much as raised one of his arrogant brows askance . . .

To his credit, he did none of those.
"Are you able to ride?" he asked.

"Yes." But she could not quite
haul her sodden self up into the saddle. "I can manage," she
insisted, when he dismounted to help her. A second try and a third, however,
yielded no different results. But still, she refused to beg his assistance.

Then she heard a muffled oath. Something
about women and insanity, and she whirled to take umbrage with him.
Unfortunately he was already upon her, reaching for her waist to hoist her into
the saddle, she presumed. But once he clasped his hands on her waist, he didn't
lift her at all. Instead, for an endless, breathless moment, they stood
stock-still, facing one another much too close. Much too close.

The rain pelted them, cold and chuckling
once more. His hands were warm on her waist. Warmer than made any sense. She
felt the distinct outline of his wide palm and strong fingers. He stared down
at her and she up at him, and suddenly everything changed. It was no longer
about Colin and Alice. It was about him and her. He was impossibly handsome.
Ridiculously tall. A man, not a boy. And he was going to kiss her.

Had she been logical she would have
turned away, even though she was a Benchley and Benchleys were not above
kissing in the rain. She believed in love among the unlikeliest of people. Her
scholarly father had loved a butcher's widow. Her grandfather had wed a Gypsy.

But a marquis?

No Benchley of her lineage had ever been
so unwise as to fall for a man that far above her in station.

But she was falling, like one of Newton's apples, hard and fast and unable to stop. He was arrogant and determined, but he
could also be gentle and considerate. He was vengeful, but that was merely an
extension of his loyalty to his family, wasn't it? She gazed up at him,
blinking against the rain, mesmerized by the look in his dark eyes. Then he
bent nearer her. Their lips almost touched

And rain from the brim of his hat dumped
into her face, very nearly drowning her!

"Oh!" she sputtered, coughing
and wiping her face. She heard him cursean exceedingly foul string of words he
should not say in front of a ladyand she felt like echoing him. Then his grasp
tightened and in a trifling she found herself mounted on Daffodil and staring
down into his grim features.

"We'll find shelter somewhere ahead.
Then you and I will have a heart-to-heart talk, Miss Benchley."

"About why you are following
me?" she snapped back, determined that he never have the last word in an
argument with her.

"About why you lied to me," he
growled.

He mounted his horse and started forward,
still heading north, she noticed. Well, that was something. But if he thought
she would help him find Colin so that he could challenge him to a duel, he was
more than wrong. He was completely mad.

"I didn't lie to you!" she
shouted, urging Daffodil forward. Benchleys did not lie. They were too
honorable to do that. "I never lie!" she vowed.

But commit murder? She glared at his
unyielding back, so straight and arrogant-and dry beneath his cape. At least
one Benchley she knew was tempted to commit murder. Sorely tempted.

 

Chapter Four

 

They sought shelter at a farmhouse, a
substantial, though somewhat shabby, establishment. Jinx waited alongside the
pigsty while Harrison approached the main house.

She didn't want to stay anywhere with
him, yet the long hour's ride she'd just endured had taken its toll. Pride was
all very good, but practicality sometimes took precedence. Like now. She wanted
a bath, a meal, and a bed, in that order. Her only satisfaction was in knowing
that Lord Hartley was not happy to be taking such mean lodgings for the night.

But the farmer's wife was certainly
happy, Jinx surmised when the woman began to bow and curtsy, attempting both
actions at the same time.

"We're to have the best rooms in the
house," Harrison said when he returned.

"How much did you pay her for the
privilege of putting her out of her own home?" Jinx asked, annoyed with
him despite her eagerness to gain access to those very rooms.

"A sovereign, and I rather doubt she
considers it a hardship," he retorted.

"Of course she doesn't. The
sovereign you so carelessly toss about is worth a month's labor to folk such as
she."

"I'm well aware of that, Miss
Benchley. I'm also cognizant of the fact that she would have been grateful to
receive one shilling."

Jinx glared at him. She wanted to stay
angry with him but it .was hard, for to be honest, a sovereign was a very
generous sum, and she well knew it. Still, she was not about to heap praise on
him for it. "If you'll excuse me?" She urged Daffodil past him,
toward the open stable.

But he caught the mare's bridle.
"Not so fast, Miss Benchley. Her son will take the horses. You and I are
overdue for a chat." Then without so much as a by-your-leave, he hauled
her down from the saddle.

"I'll thank you to keep your hands
off my person!" She jerked back from him, tilting her chin up to a
fighting angle.

A boy edged up, curious but cautious.
"Rub them down well and give them each an extra portion of bran," Harrison told the lad. "And bring the bags up to our rooms."

"I'm quite capable of carrying my
own bag now." Jinx unfastened the portmanteau and started for the
farmhouse. "If you wish to speak with me," she called over her
shoulder to Harrison, "it will simply have to wait until I get out of these
wet clothes."

"Gladly," Harrison murmured,
watching her march like a bedraggled queen across the sloppy yard. Her skirts
dragged, a pitiful muddy blue train. Her wet hair clung like a bronze curtain
to her slender back. She was stubborn and haughtyand he'd give far more than
merely a sovereign to see her out of her wet clothes.

The very thought of the creamy skin that
lay beneath her muddy blue riding suit heated him like roofing pitch brought to
a boil. She disappeared into the farmhouse, with their hostess fluttering about
her as if she were visiting royalty.

What was it about Jinx Benchley that drew
people as disparate as a farmer's wife and a marquis? He could not deny that
the troublesome redhead had confounded him from the first moment he'd laid eyes
on her. She had an air of self-possession that befitted a well-heeled matron,
though she was neither well-heeled, nor a matron. She could not be above
five-and-twenty, and he knew the Benchleys had limited funds and only a
mediocre estate. Neither was her confidence dependent upon her appearancewhich
was a far cry from the accepted norms of beautynor on her position in
society;which was negligible.

That was not to say that she wasn't a
proper lady, for she was a gentleman's daughter. But she was an odd bird, and
from an odd family. He frowned in frustration and concentrated on the facts.
And the fact was, aside from her unwarranted ego, Miss Benchley possessed no
particular presence, save that attributable to any attractive female. Redheads
were said to have volatile tempersand volatile passions. He knew she possessed
the former. But did she possess the latter?

"Bloody hell," he muttered as
desire struck him with embarrassing results. Angry at his reaction to the
troublesome wench, he grabbed his leather valise and strode purposefully across
the drenched yard to the house. Chickens scattered out of his path.

Jinx Benchley's sexual appeal was not the
point, he told himself. The woman obviously thought she could protect her
brother from the consequences of his actions. Otherwise she would not be
galloping north to find him. While he admired her loyalty and found her
adventurous nature intriguing, that changed nothing. She knew where her brother
was. He was sure of it. He had only to be patient, to beat her at her own game.

How difficult could that be?

Removing her ruined traveling suit was a
lesson in frustration. The wet wool clung to the soaked linen beneath it, which
clung to her shivering skin below that. She removed her grandmother's anklet
with its tiny Gypsy bells. Her stockings peeled reluctantly from her legs, like
a second layer of ice-cold skin, leaving her flesh prickling from the chill.
Jinx wrapped up in a blanket as she awaited hot water and a tub, and only then
did she examine her surroundings. The room she'd been given was spacious,
albeit with a low, sloping ceiling. The rain leaked in over the window; a pot
caught the drips with wet, rhythmic plunks.

This was not the owner's bedchamber, she
decided. No doubt the high-and-mighty Lord Hartley claimed that. Holding the
blanket secure with one hand, she pushed her clothes into one sodden heap. She
needed a bucket for them, otherwise they would leave water marks on the old
wooden floor.

The housewife came and, aided by a
dairymaid, dragged in a huge tub. At the sight of it Jinx finally found
something to smile about. It was almost as large as the porcelain tub her
mother had installed in a special upstairs bathing chamber at home.

"Water's heating, miss," the
woman said. "I'll have it ' up directly," she added, bobbing and
bowing. It took six hot buckets and six cold to fill the tub. The woman even
had a block of hard soap, and once Jinx slid into the steaming stew, she let
out a groan of utter contentment. If only she could sleep here, immersed in
warmth, cocooned from the cold and bitter realities of the world outside this
tub. No Harrison Stirling hounding her. No runaway brother foolishly enamored
of a woman he should not want.

She closed her eyes and began to lather
her hair. When this was over and she returned home, she wanted to investigate
the possibility of an upstairs stove with a large

water tank that could empty directly into
the bathing tub. The water could be supplied to the heating tank from the roof
gutters, she speculated. And perhaps she should consider a special drain to
carry the used bathwater directly outdoors. That way Mrs. Honeywell would be
saved the task of heating and fetching and carrying away. And that way Jinx
could bathe as often as she likeddaily would be absolutely wonderfuland feel
no guilt for the burdens it placed on their limited household staff.

She'd sunk down to her chin, and only her
knees showed, pink and warm, above the faintly soapy surface. Her mind filled
with details of plumbing and a system for hoisting firewood up to the second
floor, when a firm knock disrupted her reverie. She sat up with a correspondent
slosh of water. "Who is it?"

"Harrison. May I come in?"

"No!" She sank down again, down
until her chin and ears were halfway beneath the water. "No," she
squeaked. "I'm almost finished here and I'll be downstairs directly"

The door opened, she shrieked, and then
it closed with an ominous thud. For a moment, all was absolutely silent. But
though Jinx's back was to the door, she knew he was inside the room. He was
inside the room, and she was naked, and she had no idea what to do about it.

She did know, however, that to react
passively would only encourage him to bully her further. Though it took more
courage than she thought she possessed, she forced herself to sit up, just
enough so that her head was completely out of the water. Then she shifted to
one side, fixed him with her most lethal glare, and said with a completely
false calm, "Get out of this room. Now."

"Not until you and I have had a
little talk."

"If you wish to speak to me, you
will gain no satisfaction by behaving like a ruffian. I refuse to speak to you
under such unseemly circumstances."

The unconscionable wretch only deflected
her glare with a smug grin and advanced farther into the room. He dragged a
straight-backed chair into the middle of the floor, then, straddling it
backward, faced her across a mere three feet of distance.

It was such an arrogant male gesture, she
wanted to throw the soap at him. And yet that same arrogance, the very maleness
of his behavior, sent a shiver of both fear and awareness through her. She sank
deeper into the water, crossing her arms over her chest and cursing herself for
a full-fledged fool. Toad eggs! What was she to do now?

"I do not negotiate with ruffians,"
she muttered, averting her gaze.

"You have no choice but to negotiate
with me, Jinx."

"From one presumption to the next
you leap! I am Miss Benchley to you."

He chuckled. "I have difficulty with
such formalities when I'm in a lady's bedchamber, especially when she's"

"No woman who welcomes the likes of
you into her bedchamber could possibly be termed a lady."

"Some are. Some aren't." He
grinned. "Which are you?"

The water had begun to cool. Now,
however, it felt warm again. Hot. Positively steaming. He was enjoying himself
entirely too much!

Jinx weighed her options. She could hold
this conversation with him while sitting in the bathtub. She could refuse to
speak to him at all, so long as she was sitting in the bathtub.

Or . . . She could get out of the
bathtub.

He expected her to refuse, to speak with
him, and then eventually, to give in, and it galled her to let him best her
that way.

So she considered the alternative. Did
she dare exit the tub, allowing him to see her naked, even if only for a moment
or two? She was not an excessively modest person, and yet...

Ego won out over modesty. She sank
completely under the water, rinsing the last of the soap from her hairand
gathering her courage. Then, not giving herself time to reconsider, she surged
to her feet, stepped out of the tub, and snatched up the towel lying across the
bed. She was covered in a moment, at least her torso was. Her arms and legs
remained bare, but she could deal with that, she told herself. Finally, she
steeled herself and turned to face him.

"Now, what was it you wished so
urgently to discuss?"

Harrison closed his gaping
mouth with a snap. Had she just done what he thought she'd done? Jinx Benchley
sat on the bed. She was wrapped in a generous length of toweling, and as he
watched, she reached up and began to apply another towel to her dripping mane
of copper-colored hair.

She was the picture of composure, a lady
at her bath. But the image of her smooth pink skin, a narrow waist, and dimpled
derriere, were burned into his brain.

He'd bullied her, but she'd turned the
tables and bullied him right back. Quite a feat. But he was not calm enough yet
to fully admire her ability to outbluff him. He was too overwhelmed by the
desire to unwrap the towels that hid her luscious body. He wanted to see the
rest of her, the breasts he'd not really glimpsed, the softly rounded belly.
The feminine vee between her legs.

"Lord Hartley?"

Harrison blinked, only
belatedly coming back to awareness. As he watched, she stood and, still wrapped
in the towels, slipped her arms into her wrapper. Then turning her back to him,
she did a little jiggle, and from beneath her wrapper, the towel fell to her
feet. She tied the wrapper in place, then finally turned back to face him,
completely covered, neck to wrist to toes. But she was still naked beneath that
one layer of cloth.

She planted her fists on her hips.
"Now what was it that was so important I must waste a perfectly good tub
of water?"

Indeed, what had been so important? He
couldn't remember.

Maybe he'd only hoped to catch her at her
bath and see some portion of her unclothed. But never in the wildest of his
fantasies had he expected her to be so bold as to rise gloriously naked from
her bath, like some Venus on her shell of a bathtub.

Perhaps she was not the innocent maiden
he'd assumed her to be.

His eyes narrowed. "I confess, you
have taken me quite by surprise, Miss Benchley. Unfortunately, I was so stunned
I did not entirely appreciate your little display. Would you consider repeating
it?"

A faint blush rose in her cheeks. So, she
was not so blase in her behavior as she pretended. He found an immense
satisfaction in that knowledge. He went on. "You see, Miss Benchley, all I
truly wanted was to discuss the matter of our wayward siblings. But if you have
another sort of. . . discussion in mind, I'd be more than happy to join
you on the bed."

She popped up from that bed like a fox
who'd just stumbled into the hound. For all her bravado, Harrison was reassured
that she was still an innocent. She had a boldness to her, and courage of a
sort seldom seen in a woman. But that smooth pale skin had not yet known the
touch of a man. He would swear on it.

"I do not wish to talk to you at
all," she vowed. " Tis you who have forced your unwelcome presence on
me. Your implication is exceedingly coarse and completely unappreciated. Pray,
sir, say your piece, then leave."

Harrison thought of himself as
a practical man. Despite his reputation to the contrary, he took matters of
family and money deadly serious. That's why he needed a wife. That's why he
wanted Alice to wed a well-connected man.

But the three duels he'd foughtand
wonhad stained his reputation forever, even though they'd all been
unavoidable. The men had challenged him. Each one of the fools had been jilted
by spiteful women who'd then goaded their former lovers to fight their current
lover: himself. The women had done it for the pride of knowing men had shed
blood for them. The men had done it because male pride would not allow them to
back down. Foolish men fighting to regain frivolous women. And he'd been the
most foolish of all.

Still, he'd never ruined an innocent
woman. He'd never even contemplated doing soat least not since he'd reached
his majority. But this womanthis beautiful, headstrong redheaded woman whom
he'd known but two daysshe was driving him to distraction!

He wanted her. It was that simple and
that complicated. And now he was afraid to stand up, for the proof of his
desire would be painfully apparent. He'd often had this problem when he was
twenty. But he was thirty now, a jaded thirty, at that. No untried virgin
should affect him so.

But this one did. Perhaps it would be
best if he just said his piece and left.

He cleared his throat. " 'Tis
apparent from your curious behavior that you seek to alert your brother to my
pursuit. But it will do you no good, Miss Benchley. He cannot evade me
forever."

"I'm certain he does not expect
to."

"Then what do you hope to achieve
with this mad dash you've made to find him before I can?"

"To save his hide from the murderous
marquis!" she exclaimed. Her eyes flashed with anger, a clear aqua-green
anger. Her breasts heaved with emotion beneath the flimsy linen wrapper. She
was magnificent, he thought. She'd been magnificent in every incarnation: her
early-morning attire; her bedraggled riding outfit; and now, wet and unadorned,
fresh from her bath. How would she look draped in teal silk or cloth of gold,
with diamonds sparkling in her hair or a web of gold and pearls draped around
her throat? How he would like to find out.

"Well?" she demanded.
"Have you no reply to that? Do you admit you mean to murder my brother,
simply because he is so unwise as to love your sister?"

Harrison was not a man
particularly given to impulsive behavior, no matter what other people thought.
But when Jinx stared at him so belligerently, making accusations uncomfortably
close to the truth, he reacted impulsively. The chair crashed down when he rose
to his feet. Before she could do more than gasp with alarm, he pulled her into
his arms.

"WhatWhat are you doing?"

"You're a smart woman, Miss
Benchley. Jinx. Figure it out." Then he silenced the protests rising from
those pouty lips, from that petulant mouth. He kissed her and realized only
then how much he'd wanted to do just that. From his first sight of her, all
during the hard riding of the past two days, and culminating in her daring
removal from the tub, he'd wanted to kiss her. He wanted to do even more, but
kissing was a good start.

So he kissed her as if he and he alone
had the right to do so. His lips captured hers in a carnal quest, and after a
moment she began to kiss -him back. As if he'd thrown down a gauntlet, she rose
to the challenge he set.

She was not sure of herself, but she
learned very quickly. Her protests died unsaid and softened into little sighs
of acquiescence. She was damp and lithe, a soft, strong armful, and when he
pressed her fully to him, she arched nearer, intensifying their embrace. Her
arms circled his neck, her lips parted to grant him entrance, and he feared he
would embarrass himself then and there.

His hands roamed freely down her back,
circling her waist, learning the curve of her derriŁre. She gasped against his
mouth, and he groaned. "Feels good, doesn't it?" '

"Yes," she breathed.
"Better than ever I would have guessed."

Harrison deepened the kiss,
for he was heady with desire, and drunk with the passion her honest words
roused in him. He devoured her mouth, sliding his tongue in and out, trying to
rouse her as she roused him. He knew he was going too fast, and he didn't want
to frighten her off. But he couldn't stop. His hands explored her sweet body
while his mouth demanded she submit.

When she mimicked his caresses with
caresses of her own, he nearly came undone. She was sweet and honest, and long
overdue for her first sexual encounter

Her first sexual encounter.

Was he insane?

With a groan he broke their kiss. With a
curse he broke their embrace and thrust her away from him. But he did not let
her go. He just stood there, holding her shoulders in a stiff-armed stance, his
breathing harsh and ragged.

"What are you trying to do?" He
glared at her, appalled at what had just occurred between them. What had almost
occurred between them. "What in bloody hell are you trying to
do?"

For a second she looked stunned. Her
mouth gaped open. Her lipsher sweet, rosy, kissable lipsactually trembled.
Then the moment passed, her jaw snapped shut, and the passionate sheen in her
eyes turned to venom.

"What am J trying to do? Me?"
She jerked free of his hold and backed as far away from him as she could.

"The better question is what are you
trying to do? First you intrude on my privacy. You interrupt my bath. Then
you proceed to kiss me" She broke off. But though her face colored in a
heated blush, her fury did not abate. "You do all that, then you have the
gall to accuse me of trying to do something to you\"

She was right on every count. She knew it
and so did Harrison. And yet he could not explain the idiocy of his behavior
with any amount of logic. So he chose to blame her.

"If you think to lure me into some
sort of compromising position and thereby gain a better bargaining position for
yourself, it will not work."

"Are you accusing me of trying to
gain a husband by such nefarious means? Is that what you are trying to
imply?"

"No. That's not what I meant!" Harrison thrust his hands angrily through his hair. It was either that or grab her and
silence her in the one way he now knew worked. Except that kissing her again
would not be a good idea. "I didn't mean that you wanted to put me in a
compromising position then force me into marriage. Not exactly," he added
less forcefully.

"Then what exactly did you
mean?" she demanded, glaring at him, her fists once more knotted on her
hips.

Damn, but he was handling this badly! He
didn't want to make it worse now by insulting her, or hurting her any more than
he already had. But he didn't trust himself to keep his hands off her, no
matter how stupid an idea it was.

Then again, if .he angered her
sufficiently, she would be the one to avoid him.

He didn't like*the idea, yet given the
messy circumstances of their acquaintance, it seemed to be the best option open
to him.

So he answered her question though he no
longer believed his own words. "When it comes to protecting your idiot brother,
you have already shown yourself to be bolder and more daring than any woman
I've ever met. It can be no wonder, then, that I assume you would be willing to
buy your brother's safety with the use of your body."

She slapped him.

He deserved it. But though he wanted to
apologize to her, he did not. This attraction between them must be killed. It
had begun too abruptly. It would have to end in the same manner. So he stepped
back from her and gave an abbreviated bow. "I'll leave you now."

When he reached the door, however, she
called out. "I'm not turning back, Lord Hartley. You can't scare me off so
easily as 3JI
that."

He did not think he had. But Harrison kept his own counsel. He did not look back at her or respond in any way. He left
and sought his own room where he and a bottle of whisky proceeded to spend a
long, restless night together.

How was he to get rid of the difficult
Jinx Benchley? He'd kissed her, a stupid move, given who she was and the
circumstances of their relationship. He'd seen her naked and run his hands over
her delectable body, compounding his stupidity tenfold. Still, he'd not totally
compromised her. Somehow he'd managed not to do anything he could not undo.

He stared up at the ceiling, disgusted
with himself. He wanted her even though he knew she was not the sort of woman a
man could seduce with impunity. But logic fell short when it came to his
reaction to Jinx. Though he should put her out of his mind, he could not. He
wanted her still.

He heaved a great sigh and lifted the
whisky glass once more to his lips. The only solution was to get rid of the
difficult and delicious Miss Benchley before he gave in and did something that
he could not undo.

 



 

She should have slept the sleep of the
dead; she'd been that exhausted. But Jinx was too upset to sleep. Too agitated
and bewildered and furious.

By midnight she was seething. How dare he
burst into her private chamber?

By two A.M. she was ready to commit murder. How dare
he kiss her, then turn around and accuse her of trying to distract him!

By four o'clock, she was sick with shame.
How could she have risen, wet and naked from the tub, with him right there? How
could she have kissed him so passionately? And why should he not question the
purposes of any woman who behaved so?

When the downstairs clock chimed half
past four, she decided she must do something, else she would tear her hair out
in utter frustration. So she dressed in her wrinkled, barely dried riding
costume, pulled on dry hose and wet boots, then wound her hair into a
serviceable knot and tied on her hat. She would not subject herself to Harrison
Stirling's distracting presence one moment longer. Nor him to hers. She would
go on alone. According to their hostess, Scotland was another two-day
rideassuming the weather cooperated. With the slower carriage, Colin could not
be too much ahead of her.

The hove Match

Perhaps she might even catch up with him
today.

She paused at the door. Lord Hartley
would be furious and he would be after her with the same vengeance he felt for
Colin. He was not a man accustomed to being thwarted. But that only intensified
her resolve. He deserved to be thwarted. He deserved to have his sister wed
someone he refused to approve.

Jinx's brow creased in a frown. In a way
it was ironic, for in theory, her goals and Lord Hartley's were the same:
prevent the union in marriage of their respective siblings. But her primary
reason for wanting to prevent it was to avoid Lord Hartley's revenge upon
Colin. If his nature were not so vengeful, she would not be so opposed to Colin
marrying his sister.

But why should she help the arrogant Lord
Hartley achieve his aim? Why should she seek to prevent Colin and Alice
marrying? They were adult enough to make their own decisions, and if they were
in love, who was she to gainsay them? Rather than join with Lord Hartley in
thwarting them, it behooved her to rush to their aid and thereby thwart Lord
Hartley.

Her hand tightened on the ceramic
doorknob. She would find the wayward pair before he could, she vowed. And if
necessary, she would hire Bow Street runners to protect them. And she would
laugh in Harrison Stirling's face and bring his sister home to Benchley Manor
and all its charming follies.

Feeling much better than she had in
hours, Jinx shoved the door openand promptly sent a tower of pots clattering
onto the floor.

"Lizard legs!" she swore as one
of the metal vessels careened down the hall. So much for making a silent
getaway.

When the last lid stilled its wobbling
spin, she heard the creak of a door and the thud of footfalls on the bare wood
floor. But Jinx did not want to hear the triumph in Lord Hartley's voice, or
see the gloating look in his eyes. She slammed her door, then leaned back
against it, breathing hard. Blast the man for foiling her escape. And blast him
for being the most difficult, frustrating, stubborn oaf she'd ever had the
misfortune to meet!

"Good try." His voice came
through the door, and she jumped like a startled cat. "Good try, but you
can't escape me that easily," he continued.

If it weren't that his voice was so
unnervingly husky, Jinx would have snapped some sharp retort at him. She would!
The trouble was, his voice was unnervingly husky. It was dark and warm
and as luscious as velvet pouring over her naked skin.

"Bee's knees," she breathed,
afraid for her own sanity. She lurched away from the door, one hand at her
throat, the other holding on to her valise with a death grip. This was insane.
Insane! She could not be having such an improbable reaction to this man. Such a
primitive and visceral reaction.

But she was. There was no denying it. And
that, more than anything else, kept her somber and silent in her room the long
remainder of the night.

The farmer's wife came at dawn with a
tray. Jinx ate because she knew she must. The stable lad brought the horses
around to the front door, but still she sat in the room. Only when Lord Hartley
knocked at her door did she rouse. "Go along without me. I'm not
accompanying you any further."

He came straightaway into the room, as
she should have known he would. "Are you ill?" he demanded to know.

"Yes. Ill," she responded,
refusing to look at him. She was afraid to.

At once he pressed his hand to her brow.
Jinx leapt back, a difficult feat, considering she was sitting on the bed. She
glared at him. "Who taught you manners? This is not your room, nor am I
your concern. Go." She waved her hand. "Go on about your fool's
errand. As for me, I am returning home."

"To Hampshire? To Benchley
Manor?" he asked, fixing her with a suspicious gaze.

She nodded. Now that she was looking at
him, it seemed she could not look away. He was so tall, and so beautiful, she
conceded, in a harsh, masculine sort of way. Why must he be the one man to move
her?

By rights he should be the very last man
to attract her. Other than his manly appearance, he had nothing to commend him.
He was too arrogant, too high-handed, and too rich, and she had no inkling
whether he possessed either intellect or common sense, both of which she
admired in a person.

But he is a loyal brother, the small
voice of reason reminded her. Rightly or wrongly, he took his sister's welfare
most seriously.

Too seriously, she decided when he
crossed his arms and stared down at her. "I am not fool enough to leave
you here alone, Jinx, neither for my sake nor your own."

"Don't call me that. And I hardly
believe you have any concern for my welfare."

"I am not leaving you here and that
is final. For one thing, you cannot travel all the way back to Hampshire
unescorted. Not that I trust you to go home. By the same token, I cannot let
you travel on to Gretna Green alone, either."

"I told you. I've changed my mind.
I'm not going on to Gretna Green."

"Yes you are." So saying, he
caught her wrist in one hand and pulled her to her feet.

"Stop that! Who do you think you
are?" she sputtered. "No"

But Lord Hartley was stronger than she
and bent on ignoring her. He snatched up her portmanteau and, deaf to her
complaints, hauled her out of the room, down the narrow stairs, and out to the
waiting horses. He rudely put her on Daffodil and then mounted his own steed.
The farm wife thrust a bundle of bread and cheese into her hands, then they
were off, with the farmer, his wife, and their three workers waving them down
the road.

Jinx plotted revenge the whole day long.
Over every hill, through every valley. Beneath clouds and sun and the
occasional drizzle, she plotted revenge against the despotic Lord Hartley. They
rode swiftly, he goading her horse before him when she did not ride fast enough.
But to his every remark, she turned a cold shoulder.

"How did you get the name
Jinx?" he'd asked at one point.

When she did not reply he answered for
her. "Oh, I was a troublesome child, almost as troublesome as I am
now."

She stared straight ahead, vowing to
remain angry with him. Unfortunately, the ridiculous falsetto voice he'd
adopted made it hard.

"You, troublesome?" he said in
his own voice. "Oh, yes," he replied, mimicking her once more.
"Women who are hardheaded and unreasonable generally behaved the same way
during their childhood"

"I am not unreasonable," Jinx
stated in a haughty tone.

"So you admit that you're
hardheaded."

"You are hardheaded. I am merely
determined."

He had dropped back so that they now rode
side by side. "Most people would agree that a young woman sallying forth
alone to find her brother is more than merely determined."

She shot him a glare, her anger restored
by his patronizing tone. "I was not brought up to be a slave to what 'most
people' think. I do what I believe is right."

"As do I."

Frustrated, she urged Daffodil on. She
would not ride beside him, conversing as if they were on an afternoon's pleasure
ride. She would not exchange banter, nor even insults with him, for it did no
good.

But it did not sit well for her to be silent
in the face of frustration. She was more wont to lash out with her quick tongue
than suffer in silence. Unfortunately, her reactions to Harrison Stirling were
simply too irrational. She tried to stay angry, but he charmed her. She tried
to shock him and he kissed her. She still had not recovered from that!

Oh, but he was the most arrogant,
high-handed, egotistical ... She couldn't find words remotely adequate to
express her fury. He was the most egotistical man she'd ever had the misfortune
to know. So she rode and she fumed and she bided her time. She would have her
revenge, one way or another, she vowed. One way or another.

Late afternoon the rain resumed. They
were well into the north country now, a pretty land of mountains and lakes, but
few villages. They'd made good time, for the road was well maintained. But as
they descended into a shallow valley, her captor, as she'd begun to think of
him, turned off the road into a private park. Jinx had been riding rather
dispiritedly just a little behind him. Now she straightened and peered out from
beneath the drooping brim of her bedraggled bonnet.

"Where are you taking me now? Not
calling on some friend or another, I hope." The last thing she wanted was
for anyone to hear of this incident. Bad enough that everyone thought the
Benchleys odd. If it got out she'd spent all this time alone with Lord Hartley,
her reputation would be in a complete shambles.

Though her friend Virginia and the
housekeeper, Mrs. Honeywell, feared Jinx meant never to marry, that was not so.
It was only that-it was difficult to find the right man. But ruining her
reputation with Lord Hartley would make it utterly impossible to find a
husband.

That thought caused her to straighten
even further.

Harrison Stirling was obsessed with his
sister's reputation yet he did not mind playing fast and easy with hers.
Perhaps it was time that she present a threat to his reputation.

"Where are we going?" she
repeated. "This is not the way to Gretna Green. Why have we turned off the
main road?"

He shot her a damp, disgruntled look.
"So you're speaking to me again."

She tilted her chin to a lofty angle.
"I have my reputation to protect. The last thing I want is to be caught in
a compromising position with you. I should think you would feel the same."

A muscle began to twitch in his jaw.
"The last thing, you say? It didn't feel like the last thing on your mind
yesterday."

She fought the rise of color in her
cheeks. "If you were a true gentleman, you would not bring that up!"

"If you were a lady, you would not
be traipsing across the countryside alone!"

"But I'm not alone, am I? I'm stuck
with a vengeful brute who's bent on murdering my brothermy only brotherand
bent on ruining me as well!" She wheeled Daffodil around so abruptly the
little mare nearly sat down on her haunches. Then she was off, flying down the
gravel drive, back toward the main road.

He caught her, of course. His steed was
bigger and fasterand probably would not dare to disappoint his demanding
rider. He caught her and hauled her right out of the saddle as if she were a
sack of some useful victual or anotherpotatoes or radishes or leeks. Her
struggles ceased at once, for she did not want to fall beneath his mount's
heavy hooves. But though she clung to the arm wrapped so unrelentingly around
her, her verbal protests did not abate.

"You wretched, wretched man!"
she shrieked. "What do you think you're doing? Stop this very minute, you barbarian.
You brute! Let me down." She batted futilely at him. "Stop and let me
down!"

"Not until we reach the house,"
he muttered. He shifted her higher, so that she now sat across his lap.

"I'll not go riding up there carried
in your arms like this for the entire world to see," she swore. "I
won't. Do you want to start talk about us? Is that your aim?"

"This is my house. No one
will talk."

His house? That put a rather different
slant on things. Still, Jinx felt a jolt of alarm. Why was he bringing her to
his house?

"To obtain a chaperone," he
answered when she questioned him. "For both you and my sister."

"Oh." Though she hated to give
him credit for anything, the idea of a chaperone was a very good one. So Jinx
sat in silence, with no further struggles as they made their way up the drive.
Lord Hartley's horse nickered and Daffodil responded, then turned and ambled
along behind them. The park was pretty, with ancient hornbeam and mature oaks
and an all�e of lime trees. Then they made a turn past a small lake and she saw
the house, a handsome three-story country house with chimneys and eyebrow
windows aplenty, but no turrets or fanciful downspouts. Still, it was a
singularly lovely place and beautifully sited.

They were met in the forecourt by two
grooms, while a third ran to alert the housekeeper.

"Miss Benchley is hurt," Harrison blithely fibbed when the two men stared in astonishment at Jinx riding before him.
He slid off his, horse, still holding her as if she were an invalid. "A
twisted ankle from a fall," he said, embellishing his tale. "Ask Mrs.
Downy to prepare the room off the terrace for her. And you," he muttered
in Jinx's ear. "You'd best be still if you value your reputation so highly
as you profess."

What a fuss! Unfortunately, he made a
good point. So Jinx ordered herself to relax in his arms. It was all for the
best, and he was trying to protect her reputation. Besides, their delay
here would afford Colin and Alice more time to achieve their aim.

But it was exceedingly difficult to relax
when Harrison Stirling had one muscular arm cradling her back and the other one
curved under her knees.

He carried her up the stairs and down a
hall, not waiting for the housekeeper to appear. It was a goodly distance, and
Jinx was by no means petite. Yet he seemed unfazed by her weight. She, however,
was hardly un-fazed. She should not have been. After all, his ability or
inabilityto lift her weight was hardly pertinent to the situation. Yet the
fact remained: she could feel the muscles in his arms bunch and shift; she
could feel the heavy thud of his heart. And with her every breath she caught
his scent, a confusion of horses and sweat, and soap and rain. It made her
slightly dizzy.

He made her dizzy.

By the time he kicked open a door and
deposited her on a settee draped in furniture cloths, her anger at him had
turned into aggravation at herself. When had she become so muddleheaded?

She looked up at him as he pulled away
from her. He was in the act of straightening up, but when their gazes met, he
froze. He cleared his throat. "Just pretend your ankle is injured,
Jinx."

She nodded.

"It's only to protect the reputation
you value so." * Again she nodded. Lizard legs, but his eyes were
beautiful. Dark as night, yet with a sparkling depth to them.

"Don't look at me like that,"
he muttered, his voice lower. Huskier.

But she couldn't not look at him
like that. He infuriated her and yet he also managed to rouse emotions in her
that no other man had ever touched upon. For whatever reason, he fanned to
roaring life some small, primitive flame that until now had lain happily
dormant.

It was dormant no more.

Their eyes held and he groaned, and she
knew he meant to kiss her. Then a knock sounded, he jerked away, and the
housekeeper scurried into the room.

" 'Tis sorry I am, sir, to keep you
waiting." She curtsied while her curious gaze flitted back and forth
between her master and his guest.

Jinx didn't know whether to laugh or cry,
the situation was that ludicrous. If only the woman had not come in at just
that moment. Jinx needed to find out what was happening between Harrison and
her. At the same time, though, she wanted nothing more than to flee and never
be tempted by him again. It seemed ridiculously ironic that she could do
neither.

So she sat there as he introduced Mrs.
Downy. Then he backed away while the housekeeper bustled about, directing two
maids to pull back the drapes, open the windows, and remove the furniture
cloths.

"I have not been to Grassymere in a
while." Harrison spoke into the awkward silence.

When had she begun to think of him as Harrison? "It must be pleasant to have so many estates," she murmured.

He frowned, then signaled to the
housekeeper. "You may go. We shall want supper in the dining room.
Something simple will suffice." When the woman and her maids left, he
faced Jinx from his place across the room from her. "Having so many
estates is more duty than pleasure," he said in a tone that sounded
awfully defensive.

"I wasn't being critical. I was
just. . . just trying to make polite conversation. You shouldn't be in here
alone with me," she added.

He stood stiffly with his hands clasped
behind his back, ignoring her last comment. "You weren't implying that my
sister need not marry for wealth?"

She stood up, suddenly weary of this
debate they waged. "My brother has an estate of his own, as you well know.
And while it may not be so grand as this or as any of your other estatesit is
comfortable enough for our needs, despite its peeling paint and ancient
carriages. It provides an adequate enough living for a man to bring a wife
home," she added, crossing her arms, daring him to disparage Benchley
House.

His gaze narrowed. "Two days ago you
seemed as determined as I to prevent a marriage between my sister and your
brother. Yet now I detect another mood. First you want to abandon the chase.
Now you tout your brother's ability to provide for Alice. You aren't reconsidering
your position regarding a union between them, are you? Are you?" he
repeated.

When she did not respond, but only pursed
her lips and looked away, he groaned. "If nothing else, consider this,
Jinx. Their union would make us in-laws. Is that what you want?"

"No." She looked back at him.
"No." She did not want to be related to him in that way. But the
thought occurred to her that unless the marriage went through, she was very
likely never to see Harrison again. The shocking truth was, she didn't want that,
either.

So what did she want?

He must have sensed her confusion, for he
crossed the room until they were less than an arm's length apart. She should
have stepped back, but she could not. Then he breached the failing space
between them and grasped her by the arms.

"What do you want, Jinx?"

She stared up at him and tried to be
honest. "I want none of this ever to have happened."

He grinned, a half-smile that was,
temporarily at least, free of all the strain between them. "Do you
really?"

"Don't you?"

Slowly he shook his head, and just as
slowly, his grin faded. "No, I don't think I do."

 



 

He should know better. He did know
better. But that did not alter Harrison's behavior one whit.

As he pulled Jinx nearer, he consoled
himself with the knowledge that he would stop if she protested. But she didn't
protest, as he'd known she would not. If she were waiting for him to stop this
mad, spiraling desire between them, her trust was sorely misplaced.

So he pulled her nearer, until their
breath mingled. Until her thighs brushed his, and the press of her breasts
burned his chest. Her eyes, so vividly blue, remained locked with his, as
innocent and sultry as a schoolgirl courtesan's. Worldly he might be, but he flung
himself headlong into the dangerously deep emotional waters of those eyes. He
lowered his head and captured her mouth, and vowed then and there not to give
her time to change her mind.

She tasted like no other woman, he dimly
realized as he pressed her boldly to him. Nor did she respond like other women,
for there was no coyness in her, not an iota. She was who she was, sweet and
feisty, strong and innocent. He kissed her, devouring her mouth, invading her
with his tongue, and drawing her tongue into his mouth for the heated dance of
lovemaking. He would have this woman now.

But what of later?

He hesitated and raised his head. She
began to kiss his chin, his neck, and his Adam's apple, however, and the last
shreds of logic fled his brain. With one swift motion he lifted her into his
arms, while she held his face with her hands and kissed him without ceasing. He
lowered her to the bed and lowered himself over her, and still the kiss went on
and on. Down the hall a clock began to chime. Up close he was enveloped in the
unique scent that perfumed her. Sweet, earthy. Fresh as rain, wild as the
forest. (

"I will not let you go," he
growled.

"You need not."

"You drive me mad with wanting
you."

" 'Tis I who must be mad," she
murmured, nibbling the words against his mouth, then nipping his lower lip for
emphasis.

He covered her breast with one hand and
swallowed her little gasp with a hungry kiss. After that there was little room
for speech. His clothing and hers were stripped away, sometimes a frantic
struggle, other times a torturous peeling away. He found the mysterious bells
around her ankle and, in the process, kissed every bit of skin she revealed,
every sweet, supple inch of her, from her pink toes, to her luscious mouth,
from the anklet of bells that made her every movement musical, to the masses of
fiery hair that drew him like a beacon.

Her little cries and artless moans urged
him on. Creamy thighs, sweet belly. He traced a circle around her navel with
his tongue, then slid farther up her lithe torso, anointing each rib. He lay
between her legs, braced on his elbows. Before him her breasts were exposed to
his gaze, lovely pale flesh crested with taut, rosy buds that attested to her
arousal. Her breaths came short and shallow. Her eyes were glazed with passion.

She was his now. His.

His own breathing was ragged.
"Unloose your hair," he said. "It's so beautiful. Unloose it for
me, Jinx."

One of her hands cupped his face; the
other rested on his bare shoulder. He saw her uncertainty, so he dipped his
head and circled one nipple with his tongue. Then he kissed it, tugging it up
into his mouth. She arched up with a cry of acquiescence.

When he raised his head again she began
shakily to release her hair from its twists and coils. With her arms extended
above her head that way, she looked like a wanton creature, a pagan offering to
the gods of earthly delights. He actually hurt with his need to possess her. He
captured her raised wrists with one hand, and with the other drew her
flame-colored tresses down across her shoulders and chest and breasts. The ends
curled near her waist, showing only tantalizing glimpses of her delicious skin
between the tendrils.

If his violent desire frightened her, her
fear was overcome with passion, for she groaned when once more he teased her
nipples with his tongue and lips and teeth.

"Harrison." She breathed his
name, and he nearly embarrassed himself, so profoundly did that single sound
affect him.

"I cannot go slow," he
muttered, half in warning, half in apology. "Then don't."

It was the last straw. He slid up her,
letting her feel the strength he meant to release upon her, giving her one last
chance to stop this insanity they'd plunged into. But she only gazed up at him,
wide-eyed and accepting. Eager. So he drew her legs up and then, capturing her
mouth with his, he pressed into her.

Her welcome was sweet and oh, so hot. He
slid inside her and she began to writhe. He grew bolder, met with resistance,
then thrust past it. She shuddered. He felt it in their kiss. But he worked to
rouse her further, sliding his tongue in and out until she melted once more.
Then he began the same rhythm with his hips.

Such a fire. Such a raging inferno. His
passion was a mad beast, possessing him. Possessing her. But as he plunged,
deeper and deeper, faster and faster, she met his passion with an equal passion
of her own. Her legs wrapped round his hips. Her hands slipped over the damp
skin of his back and arms and shoulders. She roused him as he roused her. But
still he struggled to restrain himself.

Then he felt it, in every part of his
being: she was near. He could bring her there, this innocent wanton he'd
discovered in the unlikeliest of circumstances.

Her cries became more helpless. Her body
tensed. Then she arched in that exquisite culmination, and he could hold back
no longer. He plunged even deeper than before and exploded into her with as
much pride as desire, and with as much satisfaction for her as for himself.

Afterward he held her as she eased down
from the euphoria she'd foundthat they'd found together. He wrapped his arms
around her and held her against him, reveling in the warmth of her damp flesh
against his, breathing deeply of the fragrance of man and woman joined at last.
He would have to make this right, he told himself as she fitted herself more
comfortably in his embrace.

Her breathing slowed; she'd fallen
asleep. Harrison pressed a kiss into the heavy tangle of her glorious hair. He
would have to make this right. It was one thing to carry on with your mistress,
or a widow, or even someone else's wife. But to ruin an innocent young woman?
No, a gentleman could not do that. He must make it right.

Yet instead of feeling trapped by that
knowledge, Harrison felt the oddest sense of relief. Of freedom. He ran his
hand down her arm and wove his fingers between hers. How many years had he
searched for a woman to wed?

Then he sighed and smiled, and drifted
into peaceful slumber.

Jinx awakened to absolute darkness and
complete disorientation. Her stomach growled. She was starving. She must have
missed supper. Where was she? What room was this? What bed What man?

There was only one man it could be, and
in a tumble, everything came back to her. She and Harrison had

"Bee's knees. Toad eggs. Lizard
legs! What have I done?" she muttered into the night. She tried to think
and to avoid the panic that theatened to overwhelm her. But she couldn't think
while lying so intimately in his arms. First she must get out of the bed.

But when she tried to slide away from
him, Harrison sighed and shifted with her. She was nestled up to him, her naked
backside against his naked front side. For a moment she hesitated. Had it truly
been as wonderful as she remembered? A spiral of lingering passion answered
yes, it had been that wonderful. That stupendous. That unbelievable.

But that did not mean it had been right.

She groaned and, for one minute only,
succumbed to utter despair. What must he think of her now? And what in heaven's
name was she to do?

She was saved pondering that ghastly
thought by the sound of footfalls in the hall and the worried voice of a woman.

". . . but it might be better if I
fetch her, sir."

"Which room?" a man's voice
demanded. An angry man's voice. A familiar man's voice.

"Please don't be hasty, dear,"
another woman pleaded.

"I'll handle this, Alice."

Alice?

Colin?

Jinx leapt upright. Colin was here? Now?

Her heart sank even as hex body sprang to
life. She must stop him! She must avert this disaster.

"Not so fast," Harrison mumbled, catching her around the waist and pulling her down on top of him. He was
warm and strong and her body reacted most perversely to him. "You're not
ever to try to escape me again," he murmured, nuzzling her neck.

Then the door burst open, a lantern cast
the room in wildly careening light, and Jinx shrieked and dove beneath the
covers.

"What in bloody hell!" Harrison roared, bolting upright.

"I'll see you in hell this very
night!" Colin roared back. "Get away from him, Jinx, so that I can
kill him!"

"She stays right here," Harrison vowed. "Who in the hell are you?" Then he spied his sister. "Alice?" Then in the next breath, "Benchley? You bastard!" he yelled,
leaping from the bed with only a pillow to cover his naked state. "I'll
have your head on a pike!"

"And I'll skewer you for ruining my
sister!"

Jinx peered out at the scene from beneath
the rumpled bed linens. Beside the bed, tousled from sleep and from their
lovemaking, Harrison, naked as the day he was born, stood tensed as if for
battle. Across the room, just inside the doorway, stood Colin, livid with
anger. A petite blonde clung with all her might to his arm, managing but barely
to stop him from attacking Harrison.

So this was Alice. No wonder Colin had
fallen in love with her. If she was even half so good-hearted as she was
lovely, he'd done very well, indeed. Still, Alice was not her immediate
concern.

Though it was the most humiliating moment
in her life, Jinx squared her shoulders, drew the sheet up to her chin, and
rose awkwardly to her knees on the mattress. "That will be quite enough
from you two."

Colin transferred his furious gaze from Harrison to her.. "Jinx"

"Not one word from you," she
snapped. "Not one word. How could you do it, running away like that?"

"Because we love one another,"
he snapped right back. "And she feared her brother would not approve of me.
What are you doing here anyway?"

"Searching for you!"

"In his bed?" Colin spat. He
surged forward again with knotted fists, but Alice planted herself firmly in
front of him. She was tiny, but she was determined.

"I will not have my husband and my
brother fighting," she swore. "I will not allow it."

"Your husband?" Harrison shouted.

"You're married?" Jinx cried.

"This morning. We're just back from
Gretna Green," Alice replied. "So you see, Harrison, it is too late
for you to interfere."

"Not if you haven't" Harrison broke off and his voice dropped. "You haven't, have you?"

Alice gave him a smug smile. "We
have," she replied. Colin wrapped an arm about her and looked down at his
pretty new bride with such pride and love shining in his eyes that Jinx wanted to
cry with happiness. Colin was such a dear. A hardheaded, opinionated dear, but
a dear just the same. He deserved every happiness and she had the warm feeling
he would find it with Alice.

But then Colin glowered at Harrison, and Jinx knew this mess was far from resolved.

"We are wed," Colin said.
"But I doubt you two can claim that. Not yet, anyway."

Harrison had wound a section
of sheeting around his hips. Unfortunately it was the end of the same sheet
that shielded Jinx from view. She tugged and he tugged back, and they had no
choice but to both edge nearer one another.

"This is not what it seems,"
Jinx began.

"Yes it is," Harrison said.

She glared at him. Whose side was he on?
"This is all Colin's fault. It would never have happened if he hadn't run
off with Alice."

Colin's eyes bulged with outrage.
"He did this to you for revenge? You out-and-out bounder"

"I didn't say it was revenge. And I
won't have such language!" Jinx shouted.

"Nor will I!" Alice concurred.

"I did not do . . . did not take . .
. did notBloody hell," Harrison swore. He glowered at Colin. "I
fully intend to marry your sister."

"I should hope so," Colin
muttered, but his tension did seem to abate somewhat.

Jinx's, however, did not. Marry her? Harrison would do that? She felt a surge of emotions: relief, joy. Then, swiftly, gloom.
She did not want him to marry her out of a sense of duty.

"I believe it takes two to
marry," she said. "And I'm not likely to agree'to such a union
between us."

"You agreed the moment you accepted
him into your bed," Colin stated, stalking right up to the footboard.
"It's too late for you to say no now."

"I will not allow you to arrange my
life for me, Colin. Not you, nor anyone else."

He threw his hands up in the air.
"You must marry him, Jinx, or else you will be ruined. Can't you see
that?"

"I must do no such thing!" she
retorted.

Then a hand caught her by the arm and her
argument was no longer with her brother. Harrison stared down at her, his face
serious. "Why won't you marry me?"

"Because . . . Because . . ."
She swallowed hard, searching for words. "For one thing, you haven't asked
me. You just announced that you would marry me, without ever consulting me
about it. You're far too highhanded to make a good husband"

"Will you marry me?"

That shut up her nervous babbling.

"I. . ." She shook her head and
frowned. "I don't think that would be at all wise. We don't get along very
well. You know that's so. We disagree about everything."

"The only thing we have disagreed on
was whether your brother and my sister should wed. And that has just become a
moot point."

"We hardly know one another,"
she said.

Colin let out a snort, while Harrison grinned at her. "We know each other well enough."

Her cheeks grew hotter still. He had her
there. "But . . . but I'm not rich enough for you," she said,
beginning to run out of excuses and afraid to point out the only real reason
she had to object: that he didn't love her.

Then again, did she love him?

As Jinx stared at him, at his bare chest
and broad shoulders and casually tousled hair, the oddest feeling settled over
her. He was smart and loyal, and honorable. He was a generous lover and had a
wry sense of humor, and he had the knack of surprising her. Plus, he set her
heart to racing and her stomach to churning in ways she couldn't begin to
understand.

Did she love him already?

She knew at once she did.

But instead of allowing her gracefully to
accede to his request, the fact that she loved him only strengthened her
resolve not to let him marry her out of a sense of duty. She shook her head
once more and fought back the sting of unexpected tears.

"I don't need a rich wife," he
said, scowling now.

"You don't need a wife at all,"
she whispered.

"Perhaps we should leave," Alice suggested.

"Are you mad?" Colin exclaimed.
"Look at them. They're naked."

"Yes. They are," she agreed,
taking hold of his arm and steering him toward the door. "Wait a minute, Alice"

"No, Colin. Trust me in this. They
must settle this between themselves, just as we made our decision absent of the
interference of others."

A nervous shiver snaked up Jinx's spine.
"I don't think you should go," she said.

But it was too late. Something had passed
between Alice and Colin, some shared look that lightened his mood considerably.
"Perhaps you're right after all, my dear." He glanced over at Harrison and actually smiled. "I hope you can convince her to marry you, Hartley, else
I'll be forced to issue you a challenge, come the dawn."

It was all too ludicrous, Jinx thought as
the couple departed, closing the door with a decisive click. All along she had
feared Harrison challenging Colin, but instead, her brother had issued Harrison a challenge albeit a friendly, grinning one.

Oh, but men were a perverse lot.

Still, this madness was not yet done, for
she must deal with Harrison and his dutiful, and therefore unacceptable,
proposal. She cleared her throat. "You needn't offer for me simply because
of what has happened here between us."

"That's not why I offered for
you."

He dropped the end of the sheet and sat
down beside her. She scooted to the opposite side of the bed, still hiding her
nakedness.

"While it's very nice of you to say
that, and I appreciate the gesture, we both know the truth."

"No, I don't believe we both
do."

She chanced a sidelong glance at him.
"What does that mean?"

"It means that you could not
possibly know why I want to marry you. I'm only just figuring it out for
myself."

Jinx clutched the sheet tighter around
her and tried not to notice how magnificent he looked in the altogether.
"If you mean sex, well, yes, it was very nice. Very nice," she
repeated. "But there should be more to marriage than merely
procreation."

At that he started to laugh. "What
we did in this bed was not 'merely procreation.' That was making love, Jinx.
Love."

Love? She couldn't help it. She stared at
him wide-eyed, knowing her emotions were bare to his examination, knowing that
with one glance he would be able to guess all her secrets.

"Yes, love," he said, answering
her silent question. "I know all about duty, Jinx. I know I must wed and
create an heir for the Hartley line, and I've searched diligently for a woman
to fill the role of my wife. But I was always looking for her with my head, not
with my heart. Only now do I see that."

He sat there staring at her so earnestly,
so sincerely, that Jinx was overcome. She was not a weeper; she never had been.
Yet tears welled in her eyes, then one by one spilled over.

He reached out and with his thumb gently
smoothed them away. "I love you, Jinx. I love you wet and bedraggled. And
angry and obstinate. And even cross-eyed. Your every incarnation managed to
trap me more and more securely in your web until now . . ." He lifted his
arms and let them fall in a gesture of helplessness. "I love you. I only
hope you can learn to love me, too."

"I do. I do love you," she
blurted out. Then not allowing herself time to think, she launched herself into
his arms. In a moment they were locked in an embrace, legs, arms, and sheets,
all tangled together.

"I love you, Harrison," she
murmured between sweet

kisses and hot kisses and seething,
writhing kisses. "I love you."

"And you'll marry me?"

She drew her face back from his. She lay
on top of him yet she knew she was as trapped by him as if he held her down by
force. Love had caught her in its snare. How lovely a thought that was.

"I'll marry you, but on one
condition."

He did not look in the least surprised.
"And what is the condition?"

"You'll approve of Colin and Alice's
marriage."

He laughed. "Oh, that. I conceded
that battle to you yesterday."

"You did?"

"When I decided I could not let you
go, I knew I would have to accept the rest of your family as well,"

"You decided that yesterday?"
When Harrison grinned and nodded, Jinx smiled at him, certain she'd never at
any moment of her entire life been happier than she was now. Without planning
to do so, she'd somehow fallen in love. And so had her soon-to-be husband.

A love match. Fancy that.

 



 

THE SUNDAY TIMES LONDON, MAY 30, 1824

These are shocking times, dear readers.
Shocking times, indeed.

On Wednesday past, Hartley Hall, that
grand manse on Grosvenor Square, was the scene of unanticipated excitement. The
Hartley mansion is renowned for its collection of classical bronzes and early
weaponry, and also, in years past, for the exquisite balls and receptions
hosted by the late Marquis and Marchioness of Hartley. The ceremony on the
evening in question, however, was of another sort entirely: the newest
Marchioness of Hartley made her unannounced entrance.

Yes, dear readers, your eyes do not
deceive you. Harrison Stirling, Marquis of Hartley, is wed, a fact many will
find even harder to credit, once advised of the scandalous circumstances of his
marriage. But be in no doubt. It is a fait accompli. The eligible Lord
Hartley is eligible no longer.

Your faithful correspondent has learned
that the new marchioness is the former Miss Jillian Benchley, eldest daughter
of the late Honourable Stanley Benchley and his late wife, the former Violetta
Greenleigh. While I will allow that the bride is rather striking, tall with a
graceful carriage and a crown of blazing tresses, she also has an odd air,
rather exotic and foreign. One would swear bells tinkle in her wake. If nothing
else, she will be a most entertaining addition to town society. No doubt
invitations to Hartley House will be greatly in demand for the remainder of
this season.

One wonders, of course, about such an
unseemly haste to wed. Responding to inquiries about why no announcements were
made prior to their union, Lord Hartley remarked only that his marriage is his
private concernhis and his wife's.

It is speculated that Lord Hartley
purchased a special license to wed in Derby, where he has a fine estate. But
others whisper that the wedding took place in Gretna Green. Shocking, if such
is true.

Compounding the scandal further, Lady
Alice, Lord Hartley's only sister, wed the new marchioness's brother, Mister
Colin Benchley. Rumors associated with the second couple had abounded in recent
weeks, but as in the case of Lord Hartley, no announcement was made prior to
the wedding.

This writer went so far in the search for
the truth as to question Clarence Benchley, Viscount Geffen, regarding the
sudden marriages of both his niece and nephew into the exalted Hartley line. There
was no mistaking Lord Geffen's shock to hear of it, nor his extreme pleasure at
the advantageous matches the younger Benchleys had made.

Advantageous, indeed! The Benchley
siblings come from a long line of eccentrics who seek out mates in unlikely quarters.
However, the current generation seems to have come to its senses. (Though
whispers of arriviste ate bound to be heard.)

As for the Hartley siblings, one must
ponder the reasons that led them to the altar. In Lord Hartley's case, he has
exercised the right of any well-fixed young lord to marry beneath him if he so
desires, assuming the lady is presentable in society. For that same lord to
allow his sister to make such a match, however, is far less comprehensible.

However, your faithful correspondent has
discovered the true reason for the hasty weddings. The handsome Benchley
siblings have apparently captured the hearts of Lord Hartley and his sister.
Lord Hartley did not respond directly to my queries, but as he escorted his
bride up the steps of her new home, he paused, and in plain view of neighbors,
journalists, and servants alike, kissed her.

A love match? Draw your own conclusions,
dear readers. But remember always that you have read it first in the Sunday Times.
Harrison Stirling, Marquis of Hartley, former rake and man-about-town, has
been landed by an eccentric country miss, with love as her only bait. A curious
situation, indeed. A veritable scandal.

It remains now to be seen whether this
year's crop of eligible misses will take a page from Lady Hartley's hook. While
the mamas angle for titles and the papas root out deep pockets, will the
daughters chase after love? This writer certainly hopes so. For the fact
remains that this season has, until now, been frightfully dull. Ah, la
barbel A trifle more love in the London air might liven matters up
considerably.

 








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