Not Another Nob (The Marriage Maker Book 32) Read online

Besides proximity, their unusual upbringings, like lifestyles and prospects, provided them both with more than a little in common.

  Although Claire had made several attempts to befriend debutantes near her age within the ton, she’d met with little success. Those who deigned to converse with Claire either had their sights set on Ethan or had possessed some other ulterior motive. Claire had little reason to trust in such overtures of friendship. So, she reserved all of her anecdotes, hopes and fears to share with Amy, who Claire considered to be her very best friend.

  “I didn’t give my brother a choice,” Claire boasted. “I had to come. He’s done nothing but present a long line of lords who are short on blunt. After being found wanting by Lord Pringle, I gave Ethan no choice but to allow me to leave.” While speaking, she couldn’t help thinking about Lord Jester and wondering when she’d get a chance to take a look at Amy’s copy of Debrett's.

  Any respectable miss kept herself quite familiar with the well-known directory.

  “Bully for you.” Amy’s soft brown eyes showed understanding sympathy. Her father wanted the same for her but seemed to have given up when she ran away rather than marry an elderly Viscount he’d landed for her.

  “Where is everyone?” Claire had expected the mansion at Elysium Fields to be bursting at the seams already. Mr. Fairchild had amassed a fortune most dukes drooled over.

  Amy squeezed her shoulders and led her toward the U-shaped staircase. “Guests have only just begun arriving today.” And then with an apologetic tone, “I feel it only fair to tell you now. Father invited the Peabodys, and the younger brother arrived earlier this afternoon. I know how Ethan feels about them. He’d have an apoplexy, I’m sure, if he knew father invited them.”

  Claire made a face. “How would Ethan discover something like that?”

  To which Amy raised her brows. “You know as well as I the speed at which gossip travels. Everyone knows your brother is arch enemies with the Peabodys. I imagine more than one set of eyes will be watching your reaction to him.”

  “Why would I have any sort of reaction to him? If he’s Ethan’s enemy, then he is mine, as well.”

  “Er, yes, well. I’ll admit to you that if he didn’t already treat me like a younger sister, I’d set my cap for him.”

  “Hm…” Claire stopped to study her friend carefully. “Good looking then?”

  Amy only ever liked the terribly good-looking ones. It was why she could never countenance any of the gentlemen her father brought around. Lorded gentlemen often lacked such admirable characteristics.

  “You’ll see for yourself this evening. Now come along and tell me all about what happened with Lord Pringle, the bounder.” Amy was just the person Claire needed. Except…

  “I met somebody today,” she began. “Our Coach broke down, as you know, and the most distracting gentleman came along. The Baron of Jester. Have you an acquaintance?”

  Amy scrunched her nose. “I’ve never heard of the title.” She slid her eyes sideways toward Claire. “How did you know he really was a baron? Do you think it possible he lied? I mean really, the Baron of Jester? Surely he jests.” She laughed at her own joke.

  Claire shook her head adamantly. “He could not have been lying, Amy. His dress, his bearing. Oh, but he was splendid. Blond hair. And his eyes… Oh, Amy. I absolutely lost myself in them. The color of blue flame. He… I…” Claire stumbled on her words. How could she describe the feelings she’d had for a man she’d only known for perhaps all of half an hour? “I’ll admit to falling a little in love with him.”

  “Oh, Claire!” Amy was smiling and laughing. A devilish smile danced on her lips. “Did he mention where his estate was?”

  Claire’s smile fell. “Up north somewhere. I’m afraid it’s unlikely I’ll meet him again. And I did not tell him my true name. I didn’t want him to see me as a plump dowry… You understand, I know… But it was just so…well… He was the sort of gentleman a girl dreams about.”

  Amy patted her arm and chuckled. “One never knows, my friend, perhaps dreams can come true.” She patted her again. “Sometimes in the most unexpected ways.”

  “Now who is being fanciful?” Claire did not want to keep such hopes alive so she changed the subject. “I need out of this gown, though. Dolores wiped most of the mud off, but I feel positively sticky all over!”

  “You’ve brought some new fashions with you, I hope? We’re going to have a marvelous time.” And then she laughed. “Positively marvelous.”

  Chapter Four

  Surprise

  Benjamin could not change out of his dusty attire until Chumley arrived with his baggage carriage later that evening, so he settled on taking a washcloth to his person and clothing instead.

  All the while, a certain brown-haired, silver-eyed minx resided rather persistently in his thoughts. He ought to have told her the truth. Revealed his true identity to her.

  If she was the person he wanted to believe she was, then his status in society would not have mattered.

  When Ben wanted something, he usually got it. Why should this be any different?

  Why indeed? Because the one thing he had no control of was the origin of his birth, his background, his utter lack of gentility.

  Whatever type of title her father held, regardless, her parents would not be pleased to marry their daughter, a lady, off to a scoundrel such as himself.

  Unless they were in need of funds…

  Ben suppressed a desire to punch the brocaded wall. This was not his own home, after all, and he wasn’t an utter brute. Nonetheless, as he tied his own cravat, he made the decision to discover more about Miss Claire Dubois. Their meeting had sparked something inside of him, something he was unwilling to abandon without further investigation.

  Clem had sent Ben to the Fairchilds’ house party in order to renegotiate their current contract. Damned Ethan Dorrill had lowered prices again, and if Ben and Clem wished to remain competitive, they needed to increase efficiencies on their end.

  This was not Ben’s first visit to Elysium Fields. As prestigious and elegant as any member of the aristocracy’s, Fairchild’s country estate gleamed like a diamond among stones. It beckoned would-be guests with not only elaborate Georgian architectural features and fashionable furnishing, but modern luxuries such as hot and cold running water and flushable water closets.

  Fairchild’s penchant for business had served his family well. Of course, just as Ben and Clem experienced, they would always find themselves looked over for not being born into the gentry.

  Damned British tradition.

  Having visited often, Ben knew precisely where Fairchild kept his finest scotch, and so he made his way confidently toward the library.

  The scent of lemon oil and fresh flowers lingered pleasantly along the length of the hallway, reminding Ben that such details would make a nice touch for his own townhouse. He might have been born common, but he appreciated the finer things money could provide.

  Food. Drink.

  Would a bit of refinement be enough to get him past Miss Dubois’ family?

  He pushed away the thought. Nothing he could do about it while here, after all.

  Muffled voices increased in volume as he neared the library. Obviously, he was not the only person in search of entertainment and spirits.

  Ben recognized most of the guests mingling, holding glasses as they drifted past the shelves and heavy furniture—members of the nouveau riche. A few teetered on the brink of the demi-monde.

  As usual, some faces he did not recognize.

  Straightening his shoulders, Ben strode toward the liquor cabinet to fortify himself before jumping into the fray to converse pleasantly with people who might be useful to him and Clemson sometime in the future.

  A single shot? No, he tipped the decanter again and filled his snifter past the halfway mark. As he raised the glass of aromatic amber liquid to his lips, movement at the door caught his attention.

  He saw rich, mahogany-colored hair that had been swe
pt into a perfectly braided coronet once again. It could not be her. Could it?

  And then she turned, the elegant gold lace of her dress swirling as she did so.

  Good God, it was her.

  What in the hell was a lady of her ilk doing at such a house party?

  An elbow nudged Benjamin. “I’ll not think her brother knows you’re here.” Ben barely registered the speaker as one of the first investors he and Clemson had once relied upon.

  Her brother? What on Earth? “And who is the lovely lady’s brother?” Benjamin’s eyes drank her in. Miss Amy Fairchild accompanied her. The two clasped onto one another as though they shared a long friendship.

  Miss Fairchild’s eyes searched the room, but stilled when they landed upon Ben. And then she smiled like a cat who’d eaten a canary. She tapped Miss Dubois upon the arm. In that moment, conflicting instincts warred within him. Ought he to make himself scarce? God, no. He wanted to talk to her again.

  He would explain.

  She obviously wasn’t as opposed to new wealth as he’d thought. Not if she’d accepted an invitation to Elysium Fields.

  At Miss Fairchild’s urgings, Miss Dubois glanced in his direction, swept past him, and then swung back immediately to meet his gaze.

  That same awareness zinged between them. Her silver-blue eyes widened at first and then warmed along with her welcoming smile. Then, of course, the confusion.

  What was a Baron doing at one of the Fairchilds’ parties?

  They’d both know soon enough, for Miss Fairchild had taken hold of her friend’s arm and now led her in Ben’s direction.

  He swallowed hard.

  Time to face up to his falsehood.

  He didn’t care. He’d happily confess. For he hadn’t lost her, after all. She was here. By God, he’d get a second chance to kiss her. His gaze landed on cherry-colored lips as she approached the spot where he stood. He licked his own and ignored the twitch in his groin.

  Even more beautiful than he remembered. Even more enticing.

  “Benjamin!” This from Miss Fairchild. “Have you met Miss Claire Dorrill? And Claire, allow me the pleasure of introducing you to Mr. Benjamin Peabody of Peabody Enterprises. I’m certain the two of you have a great deal in common.”

  Miss what?

  Ben nearly sputtered as he processed Amy Fairchild’s words. A great deal in common? She could not be.

  And yet. He’d seen such silver-blue eyes on one other person.

  He nearly laughed at such glorious irony. Only fate would toss this in his lap. Twisted fate.

  Despite learning she’d lied about her name, he still wanted to taste those cherry lips.

  In fact, the urge had just grown stronger.

  When he’d thought her a lady of the ton, she’d been a distant possibility. But now…

  She was the sister of a man he and his brother despised—utterly off limits to him. He’d venture to guess he might even be risking his life by pursuing her.

  And he didn’t give a fig.

  Ethan Dorrill was nowhere to be seen, and this gel just batted her eyelashes at him for the second time that day.

  Ben bit his bottom lip and narrowed his eyes. Damn himself to hell, he’d kiss those lips before the end of tonight’s festivities. This was a house party, after all. If Ethan Dorrill didn’t want his sister exposed to the likes of him, he damn well oughtn’t to have sent her to Elysium Fields.

  “Miss Dorrill.” He bowed deeply over her outstretched hand. “’Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  ****

  It was him.

  All the turmoil of the attraction she’d felt for him earlier that day came rushing back as those blue eyes pinned her in his gaze.

  “Mr. Peabody?” She could hardly believe it. She ought to be giving him the cut direct. She ought to slap that smile off his face and exit the library with a flourish.

  This man.

  Her brothers hated him. The Peabodys had been a thorn in the Dorrills’ side for as long as Claire could remember.

  And now she stood before one of them, flustered and blushing as he raised her hand to his lips.

  Good heavens! She’d nearly allowed him to kiss her earlier today. If it hadn’t been for Elmer…

  Claire took a few deep breaths to prevent herself from fainting as Mr. Benjamin Peabody’s lips lingered on the silk of her glove. Was he swirling his tongue on the fabric? Moist heat penetrated the silk and sent a bolt of sharp need straight to her core.

  “We meet again.” He had yet to release her hand as he arose and stared boldly down at her.

  Claire raised her brow and forced a look of disdain. After all, she’d only misled him by using a different name. He’d claimed to be a blasted baron!

  “Have we met before then? For the life of me, I cannot remember ever meeting you before, Mister Peabody. Although, you do slightly resemble the Baron of Jester.” As she spoke the false name he’d given her, she could not believe she’d fallen for it. She’d been so overwhelmed by his looks and charm that she’d not paused to question the validity of such an absurd sounding title.

  The Baron of Jester, indeed!

  “Ah, I’ve been told there is a resemblance between me and the magnificent gentleman.”

  Blast and damn, he would joke with her about his blatant lie. And double blast and damn, she had to fight the urge to laugh along with him.

  Tilting her head to one side, she pretended to regard him stoically. “He’s quite the handsome fellow, you know. Now that I look closer, I must say, you pale in comparison.”

  Mr. Peabody threw back his head and laughed heartily, drawing the attention of nearly every other person in the room.

  Claire ought to be irate. She ought to throw her sherry onto that pristine cravat of his. But how could she with jellied bones and a brain that had turned to pudding? This man. What could she do to resist him?

  The grin she’d been trying to contain escaped as she met his eyes.

  So handsome.

  Such fine looks ought to be against the law.

  The two of them just stood there. Smiling at one another like a couple of imbeciles.

  “I owe you an apology.” Both of them sobered at his words. He leaned in and spoke softly, “When I came upon you and your maid this afternoon, I did not intend to mislead you as to my identity. It was just that—”

  “I called you ‘my lord,’” Claire cut him off. “I just assumed—”

  “And I assumed you to be a lady,” he completed her thought. “How very lowering of me. I ought to have guessed you were not when you first ventured to speak intelligently.”

  “Ahem.” Amy cleared her throat in a subtle attempt to remind the two of them of her presence. “We’ll be going in for dinner soon.” Amy patted her on the arm and moved away toward the other guests.

  In that moment, Claire became aware that several sets of eyes watched them curiously.

  Lord Jester—no, she corrected herself—Benjamin Peabody was not a person she ought to smile and flirt with. He was one of the infamous Peabody brothers, and the Peabody brothers happened to be her brother’s most hated rivals.

  Claire forced herself to step back. She could not betray her brother. Not after all he’d done for her.

  Oh Lord, Ethan would be livid if he discovered a Peabody resided at Elysium Fields. He’d likely lambast Mr. Fairchild if he knew.

  Fixing her gaze upon her hands, which she now clutched together, she began some sort of explanation. “My brother—”

  “Ethan Dorrill,” he supplied.

  Claire could not help but return his regard. His eyes tugged at her. “Yes,” she confirmed. “He—”

  “Would not be pleased to know we were speaking.” The understanding in his voice made this even more difficult. And again, their gazes locked.

  The pull of their attraction—yes, this was attraction—was nearly too much for Claire to resist. His eyes drew her in. His shoulders beckoned protection.

  No man had ever aff
ected her so powerfully. What would it be like to kiss him? To feel his arms around her?

  “No, he would not.” She bit her bottom lip. “I’m sorry.” So very sorry.

  He searched her gaze carefully and then turned his head to stare at the wall of shelves filled with hundreds of books. “There is little chance of a truce,” his jaw tightened as he agreed with her assessment. “But…” he began.

  Claire’s heart lifted at that one word. For only a moment. Ethan would never countenance her mingling with any of the Peabodys. Even if one of them did happen to be tall and blond, with the most incredible eyes…

  “I’m sorry,” she spoke to her heart as much as she did to him. “I—” She glanced around in something of a panic. “We— Um…I ought not to be seen with you.” She forced her feet to take her a few steps farther away from him. And then, “Excuse me.”

  Chapter Five

  Just Friends

  Claire determined to avoid Benjamin Peabody. She would ignore the feeling he invoked in her. Ignore this aching desire…

  Lust…likely... She ought to admit it could only be lust.

  She knew the word. She’d simply never experienced the sensation so acutely. This overwhelming need to lose oneself in another person. A person she knew nothing about. In fact, what she did know about him ought to repel her.

  Unfortunately, when she sat down for the long, drawn out meal the Fairchilds never failed to provide, Mr. Benjamin Peabody sat down directly beside her.

  She couldn’t very well stand up and move to another end of the table, now could she?

  Why was he doing this to her? The moment he dropped into the chair beside her, the most inappropriate physical sensations engulfed her once again. She pressed her thighs together and tried to calm her breathing. “I thought we’d agreed to avoid one another,” she reminded him through gritted teeth.

  She would not turn to look at him.

  She would not.

  “I agreed to no such thing.”

  His voice sounded so matter of fact that she couldn’t help but turn to glare at him.

  She wanted to be angry with him. She wanted to be annoyed with him, but the teasing glint in those mesmerizing eyes would simply not allow it. It took all of her self-control to contain her own delight.