Page 11 of The Allure Of Lord Devlin
“She is coming. I’ve never seen you this anxious about any young lady. You really do like her.”
He looked at his sister. “I do.”
“Then tell her. Or better yet, show her how you feel.”
He scoffed. “And how do I do that? She has little reason to trust a man in my position.”
“You know how mixed up she is about marriage and love. She watched her stepmother, a woman she admires, live a sad and lonely life because she married a man who did not love her. Yet, she admired how her father’s love for her mother stopped him from being with Charlotte. She is a woman who knows what she wants from a marriage. Do you?”
He didn’t want to face that question. Did he even want to marry? Could he even bear the thought of bringing children into the world, considering how his family is treated? He wanted to dedicate his life to clearing his father’s name so his second eldest brother could provide an heir and live a better life.
But that could happen sooner than he thought.
He had brothers, so an heir was not imperative. Money was still an issue, and marrying a wealthy woman would help him greatly. If he cleared his father of treason, his brothers could marry well. He shook his head to clear his confusion. What the hell did he want? Or who did he want?
Too restless to stay seated, he left the box and joined the crowd in the corridor. It was quite the crush. The vestibule was full of well-dressed people milling around in their finery. How he was supposed to see her in this crush… He needn’t have worried. Like a hound smelling a fox, his body tightened. There she was. Clayton and his entourage, who included Hawthorne, were halfway up the stairs, but Devlin only saw one person. His gaze riveted on the beauty ascending the staircase. A gown of lavender velvet encased her perfect womanly curves. She had fair hair piled on her head and held in place with diamond-encrusted combs that glittered in the candlelight. However, every male eye focused on her bountiful decolletage prominently displayed.. He wanted to rush down and throw her coat about her shoulders. What the hell did she think she was wearing?
Devlin wanted to move, but his feet had other ideas. He could not remove his gaze from the ivory flesh that swelled above the material of her bodice, the entire upper curves exposed. He bit back a groan. She was sending him a message, and it was very clear. He would have to fight to win her hand in marriage, and he knew what the price of victory would be. She wanted his heart. And soul.
But he didn’t know if he could give her what she wanted. When rumors about his father's treason spread, his fiancé, Lady Marigold Sumner, ended their engagement, even though he loved her and thought she loved him back. And it wasn’t because of pressure from her father. Her father had been his father’s closest friend, and he’d stood by the late Lord Devlin, defending and denying the rumors. No, the woman who’d professed her love for him didn’t love him at all. At the first sign of scandal, she’d fled.
His heart had broken and his faith in love fled. Then it shattered at his father’s death. At not quite twenty-two years of age, he was left to pick up a family in ruins, both in reputation and financially. His mother’s grief was hard to bear, and he had no way of offering her comfort. As for Rosemary, her life changed overnight. Her friends deserted her, all except Dharma. Even being so young, his sister had understood what that meant to her dreams of marriage.
Over the years, he’d tried to find who had started the rumors and what proof they had, but he’d failed—and his family paid the price.
He couldn’t move on with his life, with his failure hanging over him and his family
Recently, a glimmer of hope had sprouted in his soul. He had the tin mine and if he married Dharma he’d have money, but most of all he’d have—her. A woman who challenged him on every level. A woman who excited him, and who made him think that love just might be possible.
But he was not a selfish person. Was it fair to pursue her, given he would continue to spend his life hunting for the person who framed and ultimately led to the death of his father? He would never stop his hunt.
Clayton greeted him. “Devlin, well met. There is quite the crush tonight. Will many others be joining us in the box?”
“Good evening, Lady Philippa. You look lovely tonight. And Lady Dharma, always a pleasure. Hawthorne, nice to have you join us.” He answered Clayton as they entered the box. “Few. My mother and Rosemary are in attendance. Sin and Charlotte.”
Clayton’s eyebrow raised. “It’s quite the coup to have society see Hawthorne in your box. It also shows the young man is not playing games.”
As Dharma made to move past him, he whispered for her ears alone, “I’m sure society will watch my box. My lady, I imagine society will pay more attention to your beauty this evening than to the stage. I know I will.”
“Attention is what you are seeking, is it not? You want to show society that my brother is comfortable with a match. Or is it Rosemary and Hawthorne?” With that, she brushed past him and took the seat next to Rosemary and immediately their heads came together in giggling whispers. He hated how Hawthorne seemed to be included in their chatter.
How could he be jealous of his sister? But he wished Dharma would relax in his presence instead of constantly trying to look at the meaning behind any gesture he made or words he uttered. She didn’t trust him, and he did not know how to earn her trust.
He wondered if he’d ever understand women. As the Opera started, he tried desperately to be drawn into the music. His gaze idly rested on the stage, where the soprano sung her heart out, but he was really only half listening. He sat watching Dharma rather than the stage. He worried that society could feel his discomfort. Although he knew in his bones Dharma was the right woman for him, the niggle of relief floating there at the thought of her dowry made a mockery of anything he might be feeling for her. Guilt suffocated. Guilt similar to that he felt on failing his father, and guilt that marriage to Dharma would save him, but not her.
Her fan waved in languid sweeps against the closeness of the room. Tendrils of silky, pale gold hair brushed her slender neck and her delicate face was flushed from the heat. She was one of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and he wondered why it had taken him until Charlotte’s house party to notice that. If only he’d pursued her prior to attending Charlotte’s silly house party. Perhaps then she’d be less suspicious.
Probably because you weren’t thinking of taking a wife other than for money and Charlotte was your goal.
And therein lay the problem. He’d pursued her stepmother like the other mercenary men looking for a rich wife. He prayed it had not ruined any chance he might have in winning Dharma’s hand in marriage.
He heard his sister say to Dharma, “The soprano is spectacular, isn’t she?” However, he didn't hear her response. Instead, he was captivated by her dark blue eyes framed by long lashes, which were still focused on the performance.
What he wanted to shout to all who’d listen was,you’re spectacular!What was breathtaking was the graceful curve of Dharma’s bared shoulders and the flawless perfection of her skin, not to mention the alluring pink pout of her mouth, the darker color of her brows a contrast to the luster of her fair hair…
God, he was in trouble.
He wanted her. But desire was not love. There’s the rub.
