Part 1 (1/2)

Laurens, Stephanie.

An Unwilling Conquest.

CHAPTER ONE.

”Is Ix the devil we're running from, then?”

The question, uttered in the mildest of tones, made Harry Lester wince.

”Worse,” he threw over his shoulder at his groom and general henchman, Dawlish.

”The matchmaking mamas--in league with the dragons of the ton.” Harry edged back on the reins, feat bering a curve at speed. He saw no reason to ease the wicked pace. His match greys, sleek and powerful, were quite content to keep the bits between their teeth. His curricle rushed along in their wake; Newmarket lay ahead.

”And we're not running--it's called a strategic retreat.”

”Is that so? Well, can't say I blame you,” came in Dawlish's dour accents.

”Who'd ever have thought to see Master Jack landed--and without much of a fight, if Pinkerton's on the up. Right taken aback, is Pinkerton.”

When this information elicited no response, Dawlish added, ”Considering his position, he is.”

Harry snorted.

”Nothing will part Pinkerton from Jack--not even a wife. He'll swallow the pill when the time comes.”

”Aye--p'raps. Still, can't say I'd relish the prospect of answering to a missus--not after all these years.”

Harry's lips quirked. Realising that Dawlish, riding on the box behind him, couldn't see it, he gave into the urge to smile. Dawlish had been with him forever, having, as a fifteen-year-old groom, attached himself to the second son of the Lester household the instant said son had been put atop a pony.

Their old cook had maintained it was a clear case of like to like; Dawlish's life was horses--he had recognised a master in the making and had followed doggedly in his wake.

”You needn't worry, you old curmudgeon. I can a.s.sure you I've no intention, willingly or otherwise, of succ.u.mbing to any siren's lures.”

”All very well to say so,” Dawlish grumbled.

”But when these things happen, seems like there's no gainsaying them. Just look at Master Jack.”

”I'd rather not,” Harry curtly replied. Dwelling on his elder brother's rapid descent into matrimony was an exercise guaranteed to shake his confidence. With only two years separating them, he and Jack had led much the same lives. They'd come on the town together more than ten years ago.

Admittedly, Jack had less reason than he to question love's worth, nevertheless, his brother had been, as Dawlish had observed, a most willing conquest. The fact made him edgy.

”You planning on keeping from London for the rest of yore life?”

”I sincerely hope it won't come to that.” Harry checked the greys for a slight descent. The heath lay before them, a haven free of matchmakers and dragons alike.

”Doubtless my un interest will be duly noted. With any luck, if I lay low, they'll have forgotten me by next Season.”

”Wouldn't have thought, with all the energy you've put into raising a reputation like you have, that they'd be so keen.”

Harry's lip curled.

”Money, Dawlish, will serve to excuse any number of sins.”