Page 3 of Only Earl in the World (Taming of the Dukes)

Jasper sank his palms into his pockets, though he longed to drag the gallingly provocative woman back to the safety of Mayfair.

God, she was the most infuriating bit of muslin on the planet, and if she wasn’t careful, one of these nights, she wouldn’t be so fortunate, and she was going to get herself in trouble or killed.

Lady Briar might be the most dauntless lady he’d ever met who could acquit herself with any weapon as well as a man, but she wasn’t invincible.

Even now, dressed as she was in tight, form-fitting black from head to toe with armaments galore and hair wild and unruly about her shoulders, she embodied a warrior goddess from some ancient culture.

But the capricious chit was not immortal—she was made of flesh and blood.

And mortals could die.

So, yes, he was quite serious about not yielding to her commands.

If she wanted to gallivant across the risky parts of London, he would never be far behind.

Covertly, of course. It wasn’t his duty, Jasper knew, but the thought of any harm coming to her was not something he wanted to entertain.

She was one of his sister’s best friends, and someone had to look out for her!

Vesper would be inconsolable if Briar were hurt.

Not that the rebellious hellion couldn’t handle herself.

Briar had four older stepbrothers from her mama’s first marriage before her own parents had been wed.

Theirs had been a surprising love match, and one so late in life between a widow and a widower that everyone in high society had been astounded.

In their world, marriages were alliances to shore up fortunes and titles.

Marrying for love was rare. Marrying for love in the sunset of one’s life, even rarer.

But Jasper supposed that was love: fickle to a fault.

His entire set all seemed to have succumbed to Cupid’s crooked arrow, however.

First Montcroix, then Greydon, and more recently, the Duke of Vale.

None of his mates had been safe from love’s impulsive capers, nor from the women who had snared them.

They were all besotted! Even his own sister Vesper had beguiled their childhood friend and neighbor into a proposal. Jasper snorted.

Good thing he wasn’t looking for an affair of the heart. That was simply too much work, and Jasper liked his life simple .

Besides, keeping up with his nemesis’s intrigues was a full-time job, which left little time or space for any other strong-willed women. He shook his head. One day, he should just leave the willful harpy to her own devices. Jasper sighed, a dull throb taking up between his temples.

As if he could ever .

After seeing her in action, he’d be the first to concede that the lady was formidable.

The youngest of her brothers was an inspector with the Metropolitan Police who had taught her self-defense and how to shoot.

That didn’t mean she couldn’t be hurt, however, as he constantly reminded himself.

And if she didn’t want to listen to reason, then he would be both shadow and shield.

Unwanted or not. God help him if any of his set found out how he spent some, if not most, of his evenings, chasing a reckless brat all over creation.

Another heavy sigh left him. He was the last thing from a hero, but when it came to Briar, his instincts ran disturbingly hot.

Even tonight, it had been harrowing to watch those scapegraces corner her like an animal without wanting to burn them to ash.

He supposed the protective impulse was strong because she was as dear as a sibling to him. Like Vesper.

Liar. She’s nothing like a sister …

Ignoring his know-it-all inner voice, he kept pace with his quarry, letting her heady floral scent fill his nostrils.

She smelled like a night-blooming jasmine—sweet and primal in equal measure.

It was an earthy yet sensual fragrance, aromatic with a hint of bite, just like her.

Even if he did not think of Briar as a sister, nothing could transpire between them.

Vesper, his actual sibling, would murder him first, especially if he broke her heart.

And Jasper was quite adept at that skill.

It wasn’t his fault that women seemed to love him. Well, except for one. He sniffed. Most women, then. Briar Fairview was categorically impossible to charm, not that Jasper hadn’t tried. The chit was immune to cajolery .

He almost crashed into her, so intent he was on his musings.

“Bloody hell, are you trying to smother me, Lord Lushing?” Briar asked whirling around, those silky bronze spirals tumbling willy-nilly about her face. His fingers itched to delve within them, but he mumbled an apology when she resumed walking, and kept his hands firmly buried in his pockets.

The shockingly aroused expression she’d worn for a heartbeat when he’d tugged on the soft, springy curl earlier had made his mind wander to darker, unsuitable places…places a lady like Briar didn’t belong.

Besides, she was an engaged woman, and he was about to present his own suit to Penelope’s father…

thanks in part to his own father, The Duke of Harwick, who was claiming to be on his last legs.

Jasper was convinced, however, that it was a sneaky ruse to see his son and heir finally off the marriage mart.

Supposedly, Jasper’s wedding was the duke’s most fervent last wish before he cocked up his toes.

Theatrics ran rampant in his family…

That said, a love match might not be in the cards, but wedding vows certainly were.

Tying the knot was all part and parcel of aristocratic duty.

He was the last remaining eligible bachelor of his set, after all.

Despite suspecting his father’s ploy, Jasper knew it was time that he made an honest man of himself, especially after Briar’s recent announcement.

Just as he was the last gentleman standing, she was the last lady in their close-knit circle who wasn’t wed.

Had he, somehow, been unconsciously waiting for her?

No, she hated him, as she had expressed many, many times.

She had wished him dead more than once and threatened to bury him in the backyard.

She’d compared him to an in-growing toenail!

She had also called him a brainless oaf and swollen-headed, though the innuendo for the last had made for some delightful teasing on his part. She’d loathed that.

In truth, Jasper didn’t know what a spitfire like Briar saw in the lackluster Viscount Sackley.

Rumor had it that the viscount had been on track to become a vicar in Italy before his elder brother died, and he’d been summoned back to England to succeed to the viscountcy.

And since a viscount typically required a suitable viscountess at his side, Briar had been his choice.

Jasper gritted his teeth.

The man was a fucking milksop. But perhaps that was the draw—she was angling for a husband who would not meddle or get in her path.

However, something about the viscount rubbed him the wrong way.

Sackley had always been an oddball with his taciturn nature, but of late, he’d become outspoken in Parliament on the rights and roles of women in a man’s world.

In other words, they should be seen and not heard, and their opinions should be the same as their husbands.

He had voted against several amendments supporting suffrage.

Considering Briar was an active suffragist with very loud and progressive opinions, his thorny little ivy was in for a rude awakening.

Sackley could not handle a woman like her.

A man with such stringent views on women certainly would not put up with her gallivanting all over London dressed in men’s clothing and equipped with a small armory of weapons or engaging in fisticuffs with local ruffians in back alleyways.

In truth, not many men of their acquaintance would, but Jasper had a strong hunch that the viscount would not condone such habits.

She would either run roughshod all over him or he would snuff the light and the laughter from her eyes.

Given what he knew about Sackley, Jasper would wager on the latter.

The thought galled him, though it was not his place to interfere or intervene.

One, Briar would have his hide, and two, she was a grown woman, capable of making her own choices even if he didn’t like them. He had no say.

“So, Viscount Sackley, is it?” he asked her as they marched back in the direction of the main square. “I read the engagement announcement in the paper.”

She glanced up, jade-green eyes glinting in the light of a nearby lamp, surprise in them. “Do you know him?”

“We’re acquainted, but I wouldn’t say I know him well.” Jasper folded his hands behind his back. “A bit of a hulver-head, isn’t he?”

“As opposed to being an obnoxious, self-aggrandizing, nosy braggart?” she shot back and then blew air through her teeth as if frustrated with herself for responding thus.

She cleared her throat. “He’s not dull, he’s quiet and benevolent with a perfectly good head on his shoulders and a perfectly solvent estate.

He’s a perfectly suitable match for anyone. ”

Jasper hid his grin. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself, Sweetbriar? That’s a lot of perfect in one sentence.”

She opened her mouth and closed it in outrage, a rosy blush spreading over her cheekbones that he could admire even in the guttering streetlight. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” she demanded rudely. “Instead of harassing me about subjects that aren’t any of your business?”

“I’m only making conversation.”

She huffed. “Well, make it with someone else. Don’t you know when you’re not wanted? Go soak your head, Lushing.”