Captain Amberton's Inherited Bride

‘What?’

Arthur turned his back pointedly towards the doorway. ‘The whole thing’s bizarre, but Father and Harper have already drawn up papers. According to their agreement, I’m only to marry her after Harper dies. He married late, so who knows how old he is now. We’re engaged, but she’s not to be told anything until after the funeral. Then we get married, I get his fortune and she gets a title.’

‘Doesn’t she get a say in the matter?’

‘Apparently neither of us does.’

‘What if Harper lives another twenty years? He looks like he’ll go on for ever.’

‘There’s probably a clause to cover that, too. No doubt Father expects me to produce an heir and I don’t suppose he’ll be willing to wait that long.’

‘Then maybe there’s a way out after all.’ Lance lifted an eyebrow as Harper let go of her arm, passing her across to their father as if at some kind of prearranged signal. ‘You just have to keep the old ghoul alive.’

‘It’s still morbid.’

‘What else do you expect from those two?’

Arthur shook his head contemptuously. ‘You know Father’s only throwing this ball to impress him. He just assumes I’ll go along with their scheme. He treats me like a dog sometimes.’

‘Then bite back.’ Lance found his gaze drawn inexorably back towards her. ‘Do you really think he’s kept her locked up her whole life? There is a kind of fairy-tale quality about her. Just look at that hair...’

‘It’s white.’

‘It’s silver.’

‘If she’s old enough to be engaged, then she ought to be wearing it up.’

‘Maybe he won’t let her. In any case, here they come. Prepare to be charming.’

‘I don’t want to be—’

Arthur fell silent as their father appeared at his shoulder, Miss Harper’s elbow grasped firmly in one hand.

‘Father.’ Lance smiled innocently as Arthur made a stiff bow. ‘Won’t you introduce us to your charming companion?’

‘I was just about to.’ Their father regarded him suspiciously for a moment. ‘Miss Harper, these are my sons, the Honourable Arthur Amberton and...’ there was a brief, but noticeable pause ‘...Captain Lancelot Amberton.’

‘The not-quite-so-Honourable.’

Lance flashed his most charming smile and reached for her hand, brushing his lips along the delicate line of her knuckles. Up close, her eyes were an iridescent shade of blue, he noticed, lighter in the middle and darker towards the edges, surrounded by a thick black line that served to make them look even bigger.

‘Charmed to meet you, Miss Harper.’

‘Oh...thank you.’ She dropped into a wavering curtsy, darting a quick glance across the room to where her father stood watching.

‘Miss Harper...’ his own father shot him a warning look ‘...is here to accompany Arthur into supper.’

‘I am?’ She looked up quickly, her voice slightly breathless-sounding, as if she were surprised to find herself the subject of so much attention.

‘Yes, my dear. Your father’s given his permission.’

‘He has?’ This time she sounded positively shocked.

‘I’m afraid that’s impossible, sir.’ Arthur spoke up at last. ‘I’ve already promised to escort Miss Webster into supper. My apologies, Miss Harper.’

‘Then you must un-promise Miss Webster.’ A look of surprise crossed their father’s features. ‘I’ve agreed that you’ll escort Miss Harper.’

‘Then perhaps you ought to have informed me of your wishes earlier, Father. Or at least asked. I’ve no wish to be ungallant.’

‘This is ungallant!’

‘Perhaps I might escort Miss Harper into supper?’ Lance interrupted smoothly. ‘Keep her in the family, so to speak?’

‘You can stay out of it!’ Their father’s face was starting to take on a familiar puce colour.

‘As you wish. I was only trying to help.’

‘We all know very well how you help, sir!’

Their father gave a sudden jolt, as if he’d just realised what he’d said and who was listening, though he seemed unable to think of a way to remedy the situation, his jaw quivering with a combination of frustrated rage and embarrassment.

‘In any case, my offer stands, Miss Harper.’ Lance broke the ensuing awkward silence, regarding his father with amusement. ‘Though I might not be able to offer such scintillating conversation as my brother here. As you can tell, you’d be in danger of him talking your ear off.’

‘Arthur.’ Their father’s tone was threatening. ‘A word.’

Lance gave his brother a supportive look as the two men stepped to one side, leaving him alone with his distinctly embarrassed-looking companion. At least her cheeks had some colour now, he thought sardonically, having turned a vibrant shade of luminous pink, as if she were even more mortified by their situation than his father.

‘I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.’ Her voice was so quiet he found himself leaning forward to catch it.

‘And you haven’t.’ He took a step to one side, attempting to block her view of his father and brother arguing. ‘We aren’t happy in our family unless we’re butting heads.’

‘Your brother doesn’t look very happy.’ Her tiny brow wrinkled as she peered around him. ‘He looks very unhappy.’

Lance twisted his head with a frown. That was true. As much as he hated to admit it, Arthur did look unhappy. His shoulders were slumped forward as if he were wearing some kind of heavy garment that he couldn’t shrug off or put down. Not that there was anything that he could do about that—nothing except tell him to stand up to their father and he did that often enough—but Miss Harper was more observant than he’d expected. If he wasn’t careful, she’d force him to be serious.

‘If he’s made a promise to Miss Webster, then he ought to take her in to supper.’ She looked back at him, wide-eyed. ‘I don’t understand why your father’s being so insistent.’

He shrugged in what he hoped was a convincingly offhand manner. ‘Our fathers are old friends. I suppose they want the two of you to get to know each other.’

‘But not you?’

‘No.’ He couldn’t repress a smile. ‘I’m afraid my reputation precedes me.’

‘Reputation for what?’

He opened his mouth and then closed it again, fighting the impulse to laugh. He wasn’t often rendered speechless, but in this case he had no idea how to answer. Was she really so innocent that she didn’t know what he meant? He was tempted to tell her, even more so to show her, but he could already sense her father’s disapproving stare from the other side of the ballroom. It wouldn’t be long before the old man made his way round to interrupt them and he felt reluctant to let her go quite so soon.

‘Shall we have a dance before supper?’ He extended one arm with a flourish.