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Even though she’d yet to have a season, Natalie knew men found her appealing. Her mother claimed it was a combination of her features and her genteel nature. Natalie couldn’t say. She just knew that she didn’t particularly like conflict and so she often conceded to avoid it. Was that genteel?
In her mind, it was cowardly. Now, Natalie’s sister Emma, she knew how to cause a stir. Their mother had always claimed that the tendency would be Emma’s ruin, but as far as Natalie could see, her sister’s bolder nature had helped Emma find the perfect man to love and share her life with.
Her stomach rolled again, this time having nothing to do with the vomit staining her dress. Natalie wished for love, but she knew the likelihood she’d ever experience the emotion was so slim.… She trembled.
Her mother would have her trussed and tied to the highest-ranking lord before Natalie would even find the courage to squeak.
“Oh dear,” her mother mumbled, also covering her face. Her uncle tugged at the lapels of his coat and Natalie dared to peek up at the lord who’d managed to paint her in bodily fluid. He looked…bored.
The kerchief dropped a half inch. How did he manage it? Did he not have a shred of decency?
Or was he like Emma—always in a bit of trouble? The idea made her cock her head, interest making her forget to cover her nose.
“I would be honored to attend dinner,” the earl added, pushing back the hair that had wilted onto his forehead. “Tonight I will surely be dining with Lord and Lady Smith, but any night after that would be fine.”
She blinked. He was going to just pretend he hadn’t vomited all over her? How did he manage it? How did he not even appear sorry?
She dreamed of being so bold and brash. In fact, she’d written down a list of deeds she would commit if she were braver. She’d started her compilation of naughtiness at the age of thirteen and now, at eighteen, the list had grown quite long. They’d started small—steal a cooling pastry from the windowsill—but they’d grown ever more daring as she’d gotten older. Her imagination was far bolder then her actual person.
She’d like to swim in the river at night without her clothes, and dance in the rain, climb a tree, attend a masquerade ball. and…
“Tomorrow, then?” her uncle asked, giving her mother a sidelong glance. Her mother’s nose twitched in distaste. It was a tiny gesture that most would never notice, but Natalie knew her mother well, and that twitch meant that her mother did not like the earl despite his title.
Then again, her mother was desperate to see Natalie wed. Her uncle had grown tired of supporting them, and a good match for Natalie would mean a good dowager home for the countess.
This was surely the reason her mother answered, “Tomorrow sounds lovely.”
Natalie’s belly gave another roll of objection. They would not sincerely attempt to match her with a man who’d just heaved all over her…would they?
CHAPTER TWO
Ethan climbed back into his carriage, a wave of self-loathing crashing over him. He’d just tossed day-old liquor from his stomach onto a woman’s dress and hadn’t even bothered to apologize. Over the course of his adult life, he’d learned to fake anything he wished. But it was in these sorts of moments he wondered if his uncle wasn’t correct after all…perhaps Ethan was just as horrid as his father’s brother assumed.
He tugged at the lapels of his coat and assured himself that it did not matter. Even if he decided to use Red—he’d forgotten her actual name—in his plot to thwart his uncle, it shouldn’t matter that he’d just humiliated himself and disgusted her. She’d pretend he was dashing and wonderful even though she was likely repulsed. And he’d play the attentive beau for a bit while he needed her.
The plan took shape in his mind. He’d introduce her to his uncle, claim to wish to marry the girl. They’d court, and then, when he showed his rakish ways, allow her to end the charade. He’d not ruin her entire future. In fact, she’d be sought-after from his attention. They’d both leave the relationship in a better position.
But by then, his birthday would have passed, and he’d be on his way to building his own fortune, his father’s all spent.
If his uncle realized the state of the finances before that….He’d be liable to seize control all the assets.
Ethan shifted. The beauty of courting a woman so far from London was that he’d only need to see her occasionally, and at least she was lovely to look at while he needed to be here. Plan made, he sat back, content to rest for the remainder of the journey, which ended a few short minutes later when the carriage stopped again.
He groaned as he climbed out and Lord Rushton Smith stepped out his front door.
“Nice place you got here.” Ethan gave his business partner a grin as he stepped from the carriage. “How’s the new wife?”
Rush quirked a half smile as he trotted down the stairs, taking Ethan’s hand. “She’s a fair sight better than you. Somersworth, you look like shit and you smell worse.”
“Do I?” Was it the vomit or the alcohol likely seeping through his skin? He gave himself a sniff. Hard to say…
“What are you doing out here in the country? I pictured you as a city fellow.”
He was. Very much so. “Your brother sent me.”
“Which one?” Rush asked, frowning.
“Gris.” A gin maker—the man had just gotten married, and he’d asked Ethan to make this journey to check on Rush and his new bride. A common enemy had attacked Gris in London and the other Smith wanted to be certain that his brother was safe.
