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J onas was in ill temper when he returned downstairs and was immediately accosted by the four young ladies his mother had insisted on tossing at him. “Your Grace, what a charming little house you have here. So quaint,” Lady Viola cooed, pretending to like his abode when she clearly did not.

He noted the disappointment in her eyes and knew this young lady was a Londoner through and through.

Langford Hall was a pleasant home but would never be mistaken for a grand estate.

Not that he had any interest in acquiring a larger or more elegant residence when he was just by himself and this house set in the countryside near Broadmoor served him perfectly well.

Where he saw comfort and tranquility, she saw boredom and isolation.

Did she even know what a chicken looked like other than what was served on a dinner plate?

He cast her a forced smile. “Yes, I am quite happily settled here, Lady Viola. Wouldn’t ever leave my beloved sanctuary were it not for my duties in Parliament.”

“But surely you must enjoy Town life,” she replied with a faltering smile.

“Not in the least. Nor would I allow my wife and children to endure the noise and rank odors of the city. No, it is Broadmoor for me and my family.”

How much clearer did he need to be?

Lady Viola, miffed as could be, took it out on a passing footman who carried a tray of glasses filled with champagne, a strawberry in each. When he paused beside her to offer her a glass, she brushed the man brusquely aside, not caring that he almost spilled the entire tray onto the floor.

Paling, the poor footman struggled to right it, and then quickly moved on to offer a drink to the other guests.

Jonas was not surprised by the actions of this petulant princess, for he had escorted her around London several months earlier and found her to be just as insufferable then.

She was all smiles for him, and would likely continue tossing pretty smiles his way.

But was she so foolish as to believe he would not notice her behavior toward others?

Ready and eager to be relieved of having to converse with Lady Viola, he gave the nod to one of Edward’s friends, the always strapped-for-funds Lord Pomeroy, remarking on what a pleasure it was to see him again.

The man was quick to catch on and scurried toward him, taking the seat beside the petulant princess that Jonas had just vacated. “May I remark on how divine you look, Lady Viola,” Pomeroy said, his expression enraptured as he commenced fawning over her.

Jonas excused himself as the dutiful lord compared Lady Viola’s hair to the golden sands of Arabia and her lips to rubies.

Right, time to go.

He caught young Pomeroy’s wink at him and knew his broad smile was because of the wager placed in that infernal betting book contrived by Bromleigh, Lynton, and Camborne, the friends Jonas intended to throttle with his bare hands once he saw them again.

Jonas did not experience an ounce of guilt for the subterfuge. Lady Viola was an heiress and Lord Pomeroy was an earl’s son in desperate need of money. Was there ever a more perfect match created? Plus, Pomeroy would also have the winnings of that ill-conceived bet if Jonas failed to marry.

A winning situation all around.

The other three ladies, all beautiful and elegant, were now flicking their fans at him flirtatiously and laughing with a witty air when he asked, as any dutiful host would, whether they lacked any comforts for their stay.

It was just small talk, for he knew Mrs. Fitch was a wonder and would see they all had everything they needed supplied to their rooms.

But Hope Tenney gave it more meaning than intended and openly propositioned him, suggesting he might provide her comfort tonight. “I shall leave my door unlocked for you, Your Grace.”

The other two ladies were not at all appalled and merely giggled.

Lady Willa smacked her fan against his shoulder. “I shall give you the better sport, Your Grace. Come to me first.”

Egads.

He politely declined both offers. But he could see these young ladies would not be so easily thwarted.

He would have to make up some excuse, a matter of his lumbago flaring, should the need arise.

He was old enough that these little geese would believe he suffered from that ailment.

Didn’t all old men suffer from inflammations of one sort or another?

Or so these young ladies would be quick to believe.

As the minutes droned on, Jonas wondered what was taking Grimes so long to come and collect him.

Fortunately, Edward and his other friend, Lord Whitcomb, had swooped in to rescue him from the amorous advances of Lady Willa and Lady Hope.

By this time, Faith Tenney had moved away to peer at the underside of the vases and decorative plates in the drawing room, no doubt attempting to determine whether they were made by an artist of any importance.

He turned around to avoid her and almost knocked over the sister, Hope, who had left Edward and Whitcomb to silently come up behind him. “Do forgive me,” he said, catching her before she fell.

She propositioned him again.

Blessed saints. Would he have to barricade his door tonight?

The Tenney sisters were firmly ruled out as marriage prospects.

Lady Willa was also ruled out, and not only because she had propositioned Jonas within ten minutes of greeting him. She was another debutante he had escorted around London earlier in the year. He knew her to be just as petulant and spoiled as Lady Viola.

Why had his mother brought them along when she must have known he would dismiss all of them as marriage prospects? Did she think so little of him as to believe he would discount love altogether?

It saddened him that she might think so, especially since his parents had enjoyed a love match. But it seemed this was not to be for him, and he now had to protect himself from these little schemers until the blessed day of their departure.

In the meanwhile, he had a bit of work to do in making clear to the parents and their spoiled offspring that marriage was out of the question for him even if he were ever caught in a compromising position with one of these diamonds.

No one was going to strong-arm him into doing the “honorable” thing.

Besides, how was it honorable for their daughters to steal into his bed and trap him into marriage?

No, their schemes were never going to work on him. Not to mention, where was the dishonor when none of these young ladies were virgins?

This made him ache for Ailis and the ridiculous fact that she was almost thirty and had never been kissed before him.

The soft, giving way she had responded to his kisses, that sincere sense of wonder in her lovely eyes when she had looked up at him after each kiss…

How could he not feel touched to the very core of his heart?

Lady Willa drew him out of his thoughts by calling him over.

“How may I be of help?” he asked, straining to maintain his polite facade.

“Lord Whitcomb is being quite beastly to me,” she said, pouting. “He insists on partnering me for cards tonight.”

Jonas arched an eyebrow. “And this is beastly how?”

“I was hoping to partner with you.” The girl batted her eyelashes at him, playing the coy dove. But he had seen Lady Willa stick her dainty foot out to purposely trip Lady Viola not two minutes earlier, a stupid ploy to make it appear as though Lady Viola was awkward.

How was he to survive the week?

And how could his own mother, usually an astute and discerning woman, not have noticed how impossibly wrong these ladies were for him? As his lack of interest became apparent, he hoped they would all take the hint and depart early.

He almost fell to his knees in relief when Grimes finally approached. “Your Grace, the church lady is here to see you,” he intoned with impeccable lack of expression.

“Church?” Lady Willa said, giggling with an air of dismissal.

“Ah, yes. The donations I had promised. Escort her into my study, Grimes. I’ll be along shortly.” He lingered a moment or two, hoping to appear indifferent to Ailis’s supposed arrival. “If you will excuse me,” he said as all four young ladies gathered around him again. “Duty calls.”

He walked out of the drawing room and strode into his study, eager to see Ailis once again, even though it had only been minutes since he had last set eyes upon her.

“Gad, where did they ever find that hat?” he said with a chuckle.

She was supposed to look hideous. But as she turned to him and looked up at him with her big eyes, he thought she was the prettiest thing he’d seen in an age.

Big things looked very good on her. His robe. Those red stockings that would have looked hideous on anyone else but made her look adorably elfin. Now this big hat that enhanced the sparkling beauty of her eyes.

“Hush,” she warned as he leaned against his desk to stare down at her so primly ensconced in her seat. “Just give me the donations and let me be on my way.”

“All right.” But he made no move to withdraw the drafts from his jacket pocket.

She studied his expression and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“They are all hideous, Ailis. Truly, altogether hopeless. Spoiled, scheming. How could my mother do this to me? And they’ll be here through Christmas. What are these exclusive girls’ schools teaching them?”

“Why, back in my day,” Ailis teased, putting on the voice of a grumpy old man, “young ladies knew how to behave.”

Jonas laughed. “I forbid you to mock me, Miss Temple.”

She smiled back at him.

Sighing, he withdrew the bank drafts. “Ah, Lord Tenney is watching us. He’s strolled by the doorway twice now.”

“But that is good. Now is the perfect time to see me out the door.”