Four

 “Jesus, man, I didn’t realize decorum in the military had sunk so low as to slight women.”

John Breckenridge leaned against the dark fireplace mantel and crossed his arms, glaring across the private room at his austere elder brother. “The answer is no,” he said, ignoring Colton’s jibe and cutting straight to the point. “I am not going to court some woman you carried on with and then cast aside just because you have a guilty conscience.”

“Come now, John, I’m not asking you to marry the girl. Just call on her a time or two, and bring her a few trinkets. Make her feel liked and special for a couple of weeks.”

“You’re an ass.”

Colton flashed a self-deprecating smile and ambled across the room with the assured confidence of a man who always got his way. “So I’ve been told.” A moment of silence reigned before he met John’s glare. “It wouldn’t hurt for you to get back on the horse, Johnny. It’s been five years.”

John gritted his teeth and shoved away from the mantel. “I don’t need to be reminded.” An iron poker rested beside the cold fireplace. He wrapped his fingers around the handle and lifted it, contemplating the dulled tip. “Is all this some elaborate means of shoving a woman down my gullet?”

“No. Though I think you could use one.” Colton paused, dropping a pointed gaze to John’s trousers. “Wouldn’t want your cock to fall off from lack of use.”

“Shut up, Colt.” John dropped the poker before the cold hearth. “Not all of us feel the need to crow every time he takes a woman to bed. Do you need a following of unsuspecting young misses to feel like a man?”

A dangerous gleam lit Colton’s eyes. “At least I know what to do with a willing woman. You’re so cynical a common whore wouldn’t bed you.”

John scoffed and strode toward the door. He had no desire to swap insults with the spoiled duke. As one of the most powerful Peers in Britain few told Colton no.

“Wait.” Colton reached out, the gesture all but begging John to stay. “I can make it worth your while.”

“Money won’t fix all of your problems, Colt.”

“If you pay court to Lady Penelope I will give you the Egyptian urn.”

John ground to an immediate halt, whipping back to face his brother. “You jest.” The smooth black urn with gold inlay outlining intricate hieroglyphics flashed through John’s mind.

“I am deadly serious. If you do this for me I will give you the urn.” A hint of desperation marked Colton’s typically unfettered appearance, piquing John’s interest.

John folded his arms over his chest. “What the hell did you do?”

Colton raised a hand as though waving off John’s concerns. “It’s not what you think. I’ve done nothing untoward, but…”

“But?”

“It’s all rather complicated and I’d rather not discuss it.” Colton raked a hand through his perfectly combed hair, mussing the dark locks, and released a beleaguered sigh. He sank into a cushioned chair and draped his arms over the wooden sides. The young duke looked, for lack of a better word, tired—rumpled and tired—which surprised John. Up until this very moment he hadn’t believed a serious bone existed in his carefree brother’s body. “You of all people should understand that.”

John drew a long, slow breath, contemplating the situation. Something was amiss. The Egyptian urn was a prized possession in the Breckenridge family dating back generations. For Colton to relinquish the piece…

“Fine,” John said abruptly.

“You’ll do it? You’ll court Lady Penelope?”

“For the urn.”

Obvious relief washed over his brother’s perfect features. “Excellent.”

Interest regarding Colton’s predicament and odd behavior piqued, John dropped into the chair across from his brother. “Who is this Lady Penelope? I’ll need to know a thing or two about her if I’m to play the love struck swain.” Dear God… the thought alone was enough to make him sick.

“You just met her in the ballroom,” Colton replied.

“Did I?” John had little patience for parties and rarely paid attention to the simpering misses in attendance. “You mean the green skirt?”

Colton rolled his eyes. “She was wearing a green gown, yes. Is that truly all you noticed?”

John grunted. “I wasn’t paying attention.” He’d been too vexed by his brother’s summons. Furrowing his brow, he thought back to the ballroom. For the life of him he could not remember what the girl conversing with Colton looked like.

“You have no appreciation for the fairer sex,” Colt muttered. “We’ll have to remedy that.”

*        *        *

Sunlight streamed through the bay windows of the Landon parlor, illuminating what was undoubtedly the largest bouquet of flowers Penelope had ever seen. White roses bound with brilliant red ribbon spilled from a pretty woven basket, while little pink and blue buds splashed color throughout the arrangement.

One… two… three…

“There must be two dozen roses in that bunch,” Penelope murmured, more than a little overwhelmed by the display. The delicate array must have cost a small fortune. She fingered the calling card still concealed in the cream colored envelope.

Wide-eyed Marie reached out and brushed the enticing, buttery ribbon. “Who sent them?”

Penelope gulped, unsure whether or not she even wanted to open the card. What if Colton's unpleasant brother, Lord John, had sent this massive arrangement? Or what of Colonel Holbrook? He’d made no secret of his interest in her. Or… and here was the truly dangerous notion… what if Colton sent the flowers? Her heart pattered a beat faster.

Steeling her courage, Penelope flipped open the tiny envelope and slipped out the card. Her gaze settled on the name and she did not know whether to feel elated or devastated.

“Colonel Holbrook,” she read aloud. At least Lord John hadn’t sent them. She shook her head. How foolish to suspect that he might offer gifts simply because he drank the Gypsy brew.

“It seems the Colonel intends to court you in earnest,” Marie murmured, casting Penelope a questioning glance.

“Indeed.” Penelope chewed at her bottom lip trying to convince herself that if she could not have Colton then this is what she wanted—for a comfortable man to court her. The thought sat hollow and unconvincing in her breast.

“Pity the colonel did not call in person,” Aunt Laura said, a calculating gleam in her eye.

Penelope glanced back down at the elegant message scrawled across the card. “The note says he was unavoidably detained but will call later in the week.”

“We shall invite him to my dinner party tomorrow night.” Laura tapped her finger against an end table. “I’ll see to it you and the Colonel are paired for cards. With any luck he’ll offer for you by the month’s end.”

Engaged by March? Penelope’s spirits sank. It all seemed so fast. She straightened a bit. No. To be courted by an earnest gentleman was exactly what she needed to get her mind off Colton. After their uncomfortable encounter last night, it was painfully obvious the duke had moved on. The time had come for Penelope to do so as well.

“It may be a good thing Colonel Holbrook didn’t call in person after all.” Marie spun from the window, green eyes sparkling. “I suspect Penelope has another caller.”

The imposing figure of Lord John flashed through her head. “No,” Penelope blurted.

Marie grinned like a cat served warm cream—she loved nothing more than to be right. “Yes.”

Impossible. Penelope swiftly closed the distance to the large window and Peered through the glass. Oh, dear heavens. Striding down the sidewalk, garbed to the very last stitch in black, was Lord John Breckenridge.