Page 2 of How to Enchant a Viscount (Lady Be Seductive #2)

One

B rooks Davis, Viscount Pemberton leaned back against the carriage and sighed. He still could not believe he was traveling to the Duke of Thornridge’s estate. Not for a nice visit with one of his closest friends. That would be far preferable than his true reason for traveling from the temptations London offered. No, he was not going merely for a visit. He was traveling there for his other friend’s wedding. The Earl of Kendal was tying himself to some chit he had foolishly fallen in love with.

Love. He rolled his eyes at the thought of that ridiculous emotion. Brooks had no faith in the power of love. It had never done anything for him and he suspected that would not change. Love was for fools and the one thing Brooks prided himself on was that he was no fool. But he would go to Kendal’s wedding. Not because he believed in love, but because he did believe in loyalty. Kendal had always been there for him and he would not fail his friend in any way. If Kendal believed that this marriage was the right thing for him, well then, so did Brooks. It was the least he could do.

The carriage rolled to a stop and Brooks glanced out the window. Apparently he had finally arrived at Thornridge’s estate. The large manor house had tall slash windows symmetrically placed to allow sunlight to stream into the rooms. Ornate cornices, stone quoins, and classical columns enhances its regal appearance.

Brooks glanced back and the long gravel drive that was flanked by ancient oaks that led to the imposing front entrance. He turned is attention back to the double doors with its polished brass knockers. It was an impressive entryway and befitting of a duke.

It made him think of his own estate. He hadn’t been back to his ancestral home in years. Not since his father’s death five years earlier. When he had come into the title… His mother was still there and she often begged him to return. But he couldn’t. Something his mother fully understood, and yet she still constantly wrote to him asking him to do the one thing she knew he would never do. It would be like reliving his father’s death all over again. He did not want to ever return there. Even if the starkness of the cliffs overlooking the sea called to him. There were too many bad memories there.

He sighed. This was not the time to go down memory lane. Especially one that was filled with so much pain. He pushed those thoughts away and stepped out of the carriage. He had a wedding to attend and a couple friends to visit with. That was what mattered in this moment.

Thornridge stepped out of the entrance to his ducal estate and frowned. “You’re late,” he said.

“I like to think I am right on time.” Brooks grinned. “Kendal hasn’t gone and gotten married yet has he?”

The duke shook his head. “No, but we need to leave immediately to go to the Earl of Harwood’s estate. The wedding should start soon and I would hate for us to disappoint Kendal.”

“Then why are you even still here?” Brooks quirked a brow. “You could have departed without me.”

Thornridge sighed. “Because I know you.” He met Brooks’s gaze. “You would not miss Kendal’s wedding, but because you are you, well, that also meant you would arrive at the last possible second.”

He grinned. “I do like to make an entrance.”

“That you do,” he agreed, then grinned.

Thornridge shook his head, motioning toward the waiting carriage. “Come, we must leave now, or we truly will be late.”

Brooks climbed back into the carriage with a resigned sigh, stretching his legs as the door closed behind them. “Tell me, Thornridge, how is it that I have found myself on this absurd journey? A wedding? A man willfully walking into the shackles of marriage? I never thought I would see the day.”

The duke smirked, settling opposite him. “And yet, here we are. Kendal is in love, and we are his loyal friends. I assume you do not object to standing at his side?”

Brooks scoffed. “Of course not. I would not dream of abandoning him on such an important day. But do not expect me to revel in this spectacle.” He stared out the window as they traveled down the road. He had not truly paid much attention to the time or he would have just gone to the earl’s estate. But of course the duke had expected that of him. Was he so predictable then? He glanced at his friend and held back the sigh burrowing inside of him. He hated that they could depend on him for being well, undependable.

Thornridge gave him a knowing look. “You jest now, but I wager one day you will find yourself similarly ensnared.”

Brooks let out a bark of laughter. “Not bloody likely. I have managed to avoid such folly for this long, and I do not intend to falter now.” He would not marry. He had no desire to be shackled to one woman for the rest of his life. He loved being untethered to any real responsibility.

The duke merely shrugged, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Fate has a way of upending the plans of even the most stubborn men.”

The carriage rolled forward, the sound of wheels crunching over gravel filling the space between them. Brooks leaned back against the plush interior, gazing out the window at the sprawling countryside. The estates of England were something to admire—vast, enduring, filled with tradition and responsibility. A life he had walked away from, one he had no desire to reclaim. “And what of you?” He turned back to the duke. “Are you going to find yourself a wife.”

The duke glanced away then. They both knew there was a time he had considered it. That he had thought himself in love. But he had decided that marriage, on the advice of someone Thornridge trusted, to that woman would be a detriment. Sometimes he thought the duke regretted that decision. “I do not believe marriage is in my future,” he replied quietly.

“That’s what I thought,” Brooks replied. Thornridge did not say another word. None needed to be spoke really. They were both of like minds in that one regard.

As they neared Harwood’s estate, Brooks allowed himself one final thought on the matter. Marriage was for other men, men like Kendal who believed in love, in devotion, in a life shared. But for him? It was an impossibility—and that was all he would consider on such a foolish notion.

The wedding had been beautiful. So romantic it made her heart weep with joy. Maeve was so happy for her sister. Everyone should be loved the way Roman adored Athena. It still amazed her that her sister was now the Countess of Kendal and would be leaving to live at a different home. She would not be able to walk down the hall and knock on her sister’s door if she just needed to talk.

She would still have Isla, but her twin would not be so easily accessible. She was happy for her. She truly was, but Maeve almost felt as if she had lost something as Athena said her vows. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She would have to remain pleasant and happy for as long as possible. Athena could never know that she felt even a small amount of sadness on her wedding day.

The wedding breakfast would be starting soon. After the festivities her sister would leave with her new husband. Roman had planned a wedding trip for them, and then they would take up residence at his country home. Athena would likely love it there. Not that any of them had visited Roman’s estate. But Athena was always happiest in the country where she could ride her brute of a horse, Hades.

She strolled along the garden path heading to where they were holding the wedding breakfast. The servants had been working tirelessly to ensure it was all perfect for Athena’s special day. The back lawn had chairs and tables set up along with tents to hold all the guests. It was going to be a grand meal with some light entertainment, and Maeve could not wait for it all to be over with. Even knowing at the end of it all her sister would leave their family home and start her new life with her husband.

“It’s supposed to be a blessed day,” a man drawled. “There was this romantic wedding and all the sappy nonsense that goes along with it. I thought all women loved weddings. Why do you look so miserable love?”

She let out an exasperated sigh. Who was this man who thought to interrupt her time alone before she had to pretend to feel nothing but happiness. Also…how had he seen through her carefully crafted facade? She would have to do better once she was in polite company. Maeve glanced up and inhaled sharply. This man… Good lord. He was beautiful. He had golden blond hair and green eyes so light they reminded her of newly formed leaves. Ones that were just starting to bud on an early spring day. Maeve did not think she had ever seen a man so gorgeous it almost hurt to look at him. “Who are you?” She should perhaps not have asked that so bluntly, but she did not much care if she sounded rude. He had been rude first.

He chuckled softly. “I see you are avoiding my question. But I will allow it. For now.” He bowed slightly. “I am Viscount Pemberton.”

She arched a brow. “Well, Lord Pemberton,” Maeve began. “To answer part of your statement earlier… Why would you believe all women love weddings.” She shook her head in disgust. “Some women think they are archaic and traps designed to cage a woman. Not all of us believe such an event is truly blessed.”

He chuckled softly. “As you are nearly identical to the bride,” he began. “Does your sister know how much you loathe weddings?”

Maeve had never told her sister that she did not believe marriage was for everyone. She wasn’t entirely against weddings. If she ever fell in love she liked to think that she would happily marry the man who held her heart. But she did not know for certain what she would or would not do. Instead of focusing on any of that she said instead, “Nearly identical?”

His grin widened. “Only the most discerning eye would notice the differences. There are not a multitude.” He leaned down and said in a husky tone. “I am a connoisseur of women. I notice these things.”

She rolled her eyes. “In other words,” she said in a droll tone. “You’re a rake.”

“Indeed,” he agreed, then winked. “Do you wish to know the differences I have noticed.”

“I don’t know if I care,” she told him. There was something about this man though… Maeve found him intriguing. That was perhaps what made him such an effective rake. He could easily lure women in with his easy charm and gorgeous face.

“Oh, you care,” he said. “Or you would not have commented upon it.”

Maeve crossed her arms over her chest, lifting her chin as she studied him. “And what, pray tell, do you believe you have noticed about me, my lord?” she asked, her voice carrying just the right amount of indifference.

Lord Pemberton’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile, one that Maeve suspected had made many a woman weak in the knees. He took a leisurely step closer, just enough for her to catch the faintest scent of bergamot and sandalwood. “For one, your eyes are a shade darker than your sister’s—more storm than sky,” he murmured. “And your mouth? Slightly fuller.” His gaze flicked downward before returning to hers, amusement gleaming in the depths of his green eyes. “Your twin also smiles more freely, whereas you—well, you seem to measure each expression, as if you do not wish to reveal too much.” He smiled. “Also, there is one difference that most would notice if they bothered to look.” He lifted his hand and brushed his thumb over her right cheek. “The dimple, of course, is on different sides.”

Maeve blinked. She should have pushed his hand away, but she was stunned speechless. How had he seen so much in such a short time? It was disconcerting, truly. Most people could hardly tell her apart from Athena, even those who had known them for years. Yet this man, this insufferable rake, had picked up on details that even her closest friends often overlooked.

She pursed her lips, feigning boredom. “Perhaps I am simply not given to idle frivolity.”

He chuckled. “No, I do not believe you are.” He tilted his head, studying her with unsettling intensity. “But you do not fool me, my lady.”

“Oh?” She arched a brow. “And what, precisely, do you think you see?”

His expression turned thoughtful, his playful smirk softening just a fraction. “A woman who does not enjoy being observed too closely,” he said after a moment. “Who hides behind sharp words and cool glances. A woman who loves deeply but does not trust easily.”

Maeve’s breath caught, her stomach tightening at his words. How had he unraveled so much of her in mere moments? It was as if he had reached inside and plucked the very thoughts she kept most private.

She forced herself to scoff. “You think a great deal of your own perception, my lord.”

He grinned again, but this time there was something different in it—something that made her insides flutter, much to her annoyance. “I have been accused of such before,” he admitted. “Though, if it is any consolation, I find you far more interesting than your sister. Not that I know her, or you, well. It is just a feeling I cannot ignore.”

She blinked at him. “That was hardly a compliment.”

He chuckled. “No, but it was the truth.”

Maeve opened her mouth to retort, but before she could, the sound of laughter and conversation drifted toward them. She turned her head, noting that the guests were already gathering for the wedding breakfast. She had tarried too long. With a sigh, she faced him once more. “I must go,” she said, though she was not entirely sure why she felt the need to tell him that.

Lord Pemberton inclined his head. “As must I.” Then, after a pause, he added, “I do hope we shall speak again. I find myself most intrigued.”

She hesitated only a moment before replying, “I doubt that will be necessary, my lord.”

His grin widened. “And yet, I think it will be.”

Maeve shook her head and turned away, making her way toward the celebration. Yet as she walked, she was acutely aware of his gaze following her, of the lingering amusement in his expression. Lord Pemberton was trouble and she had a feeling she had not seen the last of him.