Page 9 of The Marquess Match (Love’s a Game #3)

CHAPTER NINE

C lare sat perched on the edge of a velvet chaise, pretending to listen as Meredith prattled on about her brother’s utter failure to show any real interest in the carefully selected young ladies assembled under this roof.

Across the room, Meredith’s lady’s maid, Martha, fastened the last delicate pearl at the nape of the duchess’s neck. Meredith looked stunning, as always, in an emerald silk gown that set off her dark hair and clear gray eyes—eyes that looked like her brother’s, eyes that were currently narrowed in frustration.

“Honestly,” Meredith huffed, studying herself in the looking glass, “it would be just like Ash to ruin this.”

Clare blinked, dragging her thoughts—or attempting to—back to the present. “Ruin what, exactly?”

“This opportunity,” Meredith said, turning to face her, arms crossed. “Do you have any idea how carefully I selected these ladies? Each of them is perfectly suitable. Refined, accomplished, attractive, well-bred. Any one of them would make an excellent match, and yet my dear brother,”—she threw her hands in the air—“has shown interest in precisely none of them.”

Clare shifted in her seat, heart still pounding far too hard from what had transpired earlier.

What shall we do about it?

The words had followed her out of that drawing room, chased her all the way back to her chambers, and had not left her alone since.

Even now, she could feel the sensation of Ash’s breath against her skin, the heat in his gaze, the way he had looked at her as if she were the only thing in the world worth looking at.

She swallowed hard, fingers digging into the fabric of her skirts.

“I mean, really,” Meredith went on, oblivious to her friend’s inner turmoil, “he couldn’t have made this easier for me? No flirtations, no dances that linger just a bit too long? I swear, he’s ignoring them all on purpose. And though it was lovely of him to ask you to dance, I can’t help but think he did it just to provoke me.”

Clare frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I threatened him to pick someone, and he picked my dearest friend? Utterly aggravating.” Meredith shook her head.

“I would take offense at that, if I hadn’t just told you recently how uninterested I am in marriage,” Clare replied with a laugh.

She didn’t blame Meredith for the sentiment. After all, she would have no social life whatsoever if it weren’t for Meredith. Not to mention the fact that even after all these years, Clare had never told her best friend that she harbored a secret attraction to her older brother. Given her scandal, it would hardly be appropriate for Ash to court her, and Clare had never wanted to put Meredith in an awkward position.

Meredith turned in her seat to face her friend. “Oh, Clare, darling, I meant no offense, of course. I only mean that he has his pick of debutantes, and yet he spends his time with you and me and Gemma, all of whom he can see any time he likes. Meanwhile, he’s squandering his chance with the debutantes. Lady Julia Fairbanks is considered the diamond of the Season, for heaven’s sake.”

Clare shuddered, remembering how Lady Julia had given her a particularly condemning glare last night after she’d finished her dance with Ash. If looks could kill, Clare would have dropped dead on the spot. It was obvious Lady Julia had her sights set on him.

Clare forced herself to respond, though her voice felt far away. “Perhaps none of the debutantes are to his liking.”

Meredith scoffed. “Nonsense. I cast a wide net. There’s a type for everyone. Some men prefer delicate and demure, others clever and confident, others bold and vivacious—he has options.”

Clare swallowed against the sudden heat that coiled low in her belly. Bold and vivacious.

Hadn’t Ash told her that she wasn’t the sort of woman to suffer from megrims? That she was different? That she didn’t strike him as a woman who needed to be handled gently?

He was right.

Her breath hitched.

Meredith let out another exasperated sigh, adjusting the heavy diamond bracelet on her wrist. “I don’t suppose you have any insight into this mystery?”

Clare blinked. “What?”

“My brother.” Meredith turned to look at her. “If none of these ladies are catching his eye, who do you think he should pick?”

Clare’s mouth went dry.

Ash pinning her against the desk in the study, his fingers clutching her elbows.

Ash breathing against her ear, whispering, Do you want me to kiss you, or do you want to kiss me?

Ash’s lips on hers, burning away every trace of the past, every bitter memory of Marsden, replacing them with something hot and consuming and utterly unforgettable.

Clare shook her head. This was madness. She was not going to have an affair with Ashford Drake. That was unacceptable. Unbelievable. Untenable. No. In addition to being wrong, it could cause her to ruin her carefully laid plans. She was so close now. Another scandal would ruin everything. And of all the men to court scandal with, Ash was the most egregious. It would not only risk her friendship with Meredith, it would also risk Clare’s very existence.

But even knowing all of that, she couldn’t help the fact that her pulse raced at the memory of Ash’s touch. She already knew…if he tried to kiss her again, she would participate. Eagerly. The room still felt stiflingly warm.

Meredith raised a brow. “Clare?”

Clare forced a slow inhale, praying her voice wouldn’t betray her. Something sharp and sinful twisted inside her as she met her friend’s gaze, the words slipping from her lips before she could stop them. “I wouldn’t worry about Ash,” she murmured, her voice just a little too smooth. “Something tells me your brother knows precisely what he’s doing.”

Meredith groaned, rubbing a hand atop her belly. “Well, I wish he would get on with it then.”

Clare only just managed to hold back her smile.