Page 12 of Only Earl in the World (Taming of the Dukes)

“ Fuck me .”

They were the only words that could escape Jasper’s lips as he stood at the top of the grand staircase of the Royal Opera House in conversation with the Marquess and Marchioness of Marsden while waiting for his new accomplice to arrive.

And arrive she had in an entrance that would not soon be forgotten.

The wind blew in around her, lifting the voluptuous waterfall of the long bronze spirals spilling over her exposed golden-brown shoulders like aged cognac.

His mouth dried, lungs squeezing as the organ in his chest started a thunderous throb.

Chatter in the foyer sputtered out.

Briar Fairview was indisputably a beautiful woman, but this wasn’t just a beautiful woman.

This was a fucking queen in crimson, and like everyone else, all he could do was gasp and stare.

He drank her in like a man stuck in the desert dying of thirst. She hadn’t come to make anyone jealous; she’d come here to make them kneel.

In a sea of pastels and whites, the red was an audacious, undeniably powerful choice, one designed to command every eye in the room.

The square bodice clung to her décolletage, the cascade of a hundred silk-petaled, blood-red moiré roses tumbling over the layers that fell from her cinched waist. But the gown, as stunning as it was in scarlet silk faille that ran like liquid flame over those voluptuous curves, paled in comparison to the woman who wore it.

It was simply an accessory like the rubies glittering at her ears and throat.

He could feel the caress of that bright emerald gaze when it finally found him, and their eyes crashed and held. Blood rushed between his ears as something decidedly elemental sizzled in the air like a kiss of lightning. He felt electrified. Thunderstruck.

It was her …she was the storm.

Time stopped, his breath hissing past his teeth in an endless exhale when she smiled with the confidence of a goddess who knew the world was hers for the taking. Jasper wanted to drop to his knees like a willing supplicant…and beg for her favor. Beg for anything .

“Goodness, is that Briar?” Lady Marsden said, breaking the strange spell that had come over him. “She’s a vision!”

Without answering, Jasper bolted down the stairs two at a time like an unrefined lout, forcing a smirk to his lips instead of the awe that kept them slack when he stood in front of her. “I said make them jealous, Prickles, not slay everyone in the immediate vicinity.”

Pleasure sparked in her eyes before she canted her head. “Good evening, my lord,” she said, those full lips quirking upward and conspiring to make him brainless. Again . “I gather there’s a compliment buried in there somewhere. ”

“You’re fucking stunning and you know it,” he said, and her green eyes glowed. Her laugh was a husky sound that should never be allowed outside of a bedchamber. Jasper fought the urge to adjust his already crowded trousers.

“Thank you, my lord. You clean up well yourself.”

Jasper knew he cut a decent figure in his raven-black formalwear that was tailored to his frame, but he basked in the appreciative look in her gaze as it swung languidly from his hat to the tips of his gleaming shoes. He offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

He felt the avid interest of every single stare in the room from men and women alike—covetous, jealous, admiring, curious—as they ascended the staircase to where he’d left their friends so abruptly.

“Apologies for being an utter troglodyte,” he said, patting the gloved forearm that curled around his. “I needed to stake my claim before anyone else did.”

His companion blushed, the tinge of pink a direct contrast to the boldness of the gown she wore. Entranced, Jasper watched that mesmerizing flush distill over her collarbones until a discreet cough interrupted him.

“Lady Briar,” the marquess greeted. “Always a pleasure to see you.”

“And you, my lord,” she replied before turning to her friend. “You look lovely, Laila.”

“As do you,” the marchioness said as they embraced.

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight. Lushing intimated that he had invited someone to accompany him, but I did not expect you.

We could have offered you a ride in our coach.

” She glanced at Jasper. “Speaking of that, why didn’t she come with you? ”

Jasper arched a brow, lips curling upward.

“Then my fiancée’s entrance would not have been so spectacular, would it?

” The declaration had left his lips before he could stop it.

Ignoring the sharp inhales of both women as well as his own fucking conscience, he continued, “As though a certain gauche announcement in the newssheets was of no consequence whatsoever.”

“I gather congratulations are in order then,” Marsden said slowly, oblivious to his wife’s concern. Briar stared at him in stupefaction but didn’t contradict him.

“Thank you,” Jasper said, casting a discreet glance to where people were looking at them and whispering. “Everyone should know that the indomitable Lady Briar Fairview wasted no time on a dunghill like Viscount Sackley and is now betrothed to me , the most eligible bachelor in London.”

Briar shot him a quelling look when several more spectators around them swiveled in their direction.

He was laying it on rather thickly. But wasn’t that the whole point of the charade?

In for a penny, in for a pound then. Jasper lifted her hand to his mouth and bussed his lips over her knuckles before tucking her possessively into his side.

Dead silence ensued.

“Fiancée,” Laila repeated, her gaze flying to her friend. To Briar’s credit, she quickly nodded, though Jasper knew she was mystified by his turnabout. He’d said no to an engagement as part of the ruse, not thinking it necessary, but now, the distinction seemed vital.

Something in him calmed when she gave an easy shrug. “It’s not announced,” she explained to the marchioness. “We wanted the news to be between us for a bit. ”

Lady Marsden’s eyes swung between them, her eyebrows climbing into her hairline. “Wait, you’re serious?—?”

“It’s new,” Briar said. “Actually, it was something Vesper said at the ball that we all attended. After the engagement announcement came out with the viscount and Lady Penelope, naturally, I was devastated, but I suppose it was a blessing in disguise because Lord Lushing and I realized that we might be better suited.” She waved a casual hand, sending him a shy smile that was so unlike her that he almost frowned.

“You know how capricious these things can be.”

“Capricious,” her friend echoed, elegant brows crashing.

Briar slid her arm into the crook of his, her scent curling into his nostrils as she squeezed lightly. “Yes, exactly. The heart wants what the heart wants.”

“But you don’t like him,” she whispered to Briar. “In fact, your heart categorically abhors him. You’ve declared it often enough, especially when Vesper suggests that there’s anything between the two of you.” Her voice lowered. “And now you’re engaged ?”

Briar gave a rueful but authentic smile. “We don’t call her Cupidella for nothing. She’s brilliant at matchmaking. Perhaps un grand amour, as Nève calls it, was in front of us all along and we were both too pigheaded to see it.”

“Un grand amour?” Lady Marsden repeated as though it were a curse.

“Be happy for me, Laila,” Briar said with a gentle laugh.

The marchioness immediately looked contrite. “I am .”

Briar was so convincing that Jasper wanted to applaud her performance.

She was just the right amount of sweet bashfulness with a healthy dash of the sass she was known for.

But if Lady Marsden could manage to look any more incredulous, her jaw might unhinge and fall to the floor.

Surely an engagement between the two of them wasn’t so preposterous, but the marquess’s expression was just as confounded as his wife’s.

Fortunately, men didn’t opine on these things.

Wooing a lady was usually a matter of business.

Well, except for Marsden, whose wife had shoved him into the Serpentine.

And Montcroix, who had paid his ballerina to be his fake fiancée but discovered she was the love of his life.

Also, Greydon, who had convinced Vesper to matchmake his ward, only to realize his own infatuation.

Not to mention Vale, who had made an absurd wager to trick Effie into going to London and ended up falling tail-over-top for her.

Jasper sighed. Not always a matter of business, then.

Well, bully for them. He and Briar would be the exception. No buffoonery. No falling in lakes, wagers, or paid arrangements, just an agreement between friends. Once their goal was accomplished, they would go their separate ways and back to their temperamental partnership.

As she savored the sound of the beautiful soprano soaring to the rafters, Briar smoothed the silky fabric of her dress.

Her racing heart hadn’t settled one bit.

Trust Lushing to take things a step— several steps —too far.

Now, they were affianced. She should be irate at the sudden change in plans, but she didn’t feel too upset about it.

In fact, she didn’t want to dwell on the curious swell of pleasure in her chest.

The dratted engagement wasn’t real .

He’d obviously wanted to sell the performance for a good reason.

Had the gown been too much? Briar frowned.

She could still feel the attention from other onlookers staring into the Earl of Lushing’s private box from behind their fans and fingers.

She’d wanted to make a statement that she was undaunted by the actions of her former fiancé, and she had.

Conclusively.