Page 22 of A Virgin for the Duke of Thorns

Colin nodded gravely. “I had just returned to London for the Season when I saw Lady Alice promenading in the Park. I confess I was utterly entranced at first sight as I had never been before.”

That was partly true—except that he had not seen her first at Hyde Park but in his own residence in the dead of the night. But, of course, her father did not need to know about the specifics of their first meeting.

“She… was not as impressed with me, however,” he added with a rueful smile.

The Marquess smiled at that, undoubtedly proud of his daughter. “She is rather hard to impress, is she not?”

“Lady Alice is… sensible.”

“I do not think sensible is the right term to describe my daughter, Your Grace,” Lord Brandon scoffed. “She is a great many things, to be certain, but sensible? Not all the time, I’m afraid. She is, however, extremely finicky. One would say that she is trying to avoid the subject of matrimony altogether.”

“I understand.”

If he did not know better, Colin would think that the Marquess was actually dissuading him from pursuing Alice.

“However,” the older man continued in a more wistful note, “if—and only if—Alice wants you as much as you profess to want her, then I shall agree to the betrothal. I will not throw her at the first Duke who shows her particular attention.”

The last sentence was issued as a stern warning from a father who truly loved his daughter. All fathers wanted to see their daughters find suitable matches so that their futures might be secured, but the Marquess was truly the rare kind of father who desired not only his daughter’s financial stability but also her happiness.

It was commendable, although a touch whimsical.

It also managed to have the surprising effect of actually stabbing at Colin’s conscience.

A funny thing. I thought I had lost that a long time ago.

“Now that I have voiced my thoughts on this matter,” Lord Brandon said calmly, “what do you think of this, young man?”

The Marquess of Brandon had casually thrown the gauntlet at him. It was up to Colin whether he wanted to pick it up or not.

“I sincerely hope,” he said carefully, “that Lady Alice would consider my suit.”

Lord Brandon’s smile was one of satisfaction. Colin could swear that the older man was even snickering when he said, “Then I wish you well on your suit, Your Grace. I must warn you, however, my daughter is not so easy to please.”

But Colin was not one to back down either. “I have always relished a good challenge, My Lord. Winning Lady Alice’s heart will be my greatest honor.”

* * *

When the two men returned to the parlor, a beautiful melody filled the air, punctuated by bursts of laughter. Colin heard his friend narrating yet another of his stories—albeit a watered-down version so as not to shock the ladies—followed by another burst of feminine laughter.

“Oh my! The way you have us dissolving into these fits should be prohibited, Your Grace!” Colin heard Lady Brandon chortle. “It is rather impolite to be laughing this loud. Our neighbors might think that we have lost all sense of propriety!”

In the sunlit parlor, the youngest Barkley daughter was seated at the pianoforte, coaxing a far more appealing tune from the instrument than her sister did earlier. Ethan was seated on a chair, opposite a sofa that was shared by both Lady Brandon and Alice, his handsome face animated as he regaled the ladies of the house with yet another of his stories.

From Colin’s point of view, the sunlight shone softly on Alice until she was bathed in a halo of golden light, turning her dark hair a burnished gold. Her green eyes were bright with merriment, her luscious lips stretched into a smile over pearly white teeth. When she laughed at yet another of his friend’s punchlines, he felt the sound shoot straight to his groin, heating his blood with very little effort.

He glared at Ethan, who seemed thoroughly unaware that Colin was now harboring rather resentful emotions towards him.

Only I should be making her laugh like that. Or moan. Or make any other sound.

His furious train of thought was halted when he felt a hand on his shoulder. The Marquess of Brandon leaned in and whispered, “Good luck,” before he ambled over to his wife and daughter. Alice looked up at her father, her face a mix of unreadable emotions.

Colin, however, turned towards Ethan with a curt nod, a signal that they should leave. A moment longer and he would have been unable to keep himself from thinking, doing things that were so out of character for him.

Thirty days, he reminded himself, taking in a deep breath. Thirty days and I shall be rid of this insanity.

Just as Ethan was about to excuse himself, Alice stood up and stared at Colin intently, her vivid green gaze holding him rooted to the spot.

“Your Grace,” she said suddenly, “might I have a word?”

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