Page 3 of Two Ruins Make a Right

One

Pride Clears the Path to Ruin

E ight years later

Redmond Hall, the country estate of the Duke and Duchess of Darnley

James Richardson, nephew and heir presumptive to the Duke of Darnley, stood on the balcony above the ballroom of his uncle and aunt’s home, observing the gaggle of beautifully dressed women below.

Each woman sought to prove why she would make him the perfect wife.

He slowly exhaled, his breath drawn from a place of deep frustration.

He had little doubt that their true interests lay in the position marriage would offer.

Now that he was his uncle’s only heir, one of the women below would become the future Duchess of Darnley.

But bequeathing the title of future duchess to one of the eligible ladies below the balcony would happen if and only if she successfully garnered his favor.

The only way to achieve that feat? She had to impress the love of his life, the poppet standing beside him with a mop of black curls prettily arranged on her head—his six-year-old daughter, Valentina.

She was the only one who mattered in this mad, matchmaking house party. That’s why James had picked the ballroom for the initial meeting with the ladies. It was the perfect vantage point for Valentina to observe and evaluate the ladies as they met his aunt.

James crouched low next to Valentina, then whispered in her ear. “What do you think, darling? See anyone who catches your interest?”

Valentina peeked through two of the perfectly cylindrical balusters of the marble balcony with her gloved hands. “Oh, Papa, they’re all so beautiful.” Her emerald eyes flashed as she turned his way. “Do you think they’re all nice? They’re certainly pretty.”

“We shall wait and see.” James pressed a kiss to her flushed cheek.

With her brilliant green eyes and shiny black hair, Valentina was an adorable child.

Though he was partial, James predicted his daughter would grow up to be a stunning diamond of the first water.

Men from every corner of the country would one day vie for her attentions.

Which meant that only a woman of the highest moral fiber and tenderest of hearts would be worthy of becoming Valentina’s new mother. His late wife, Georgiana, had died shortly after giving birth. Though it wasn’t a love match, James had felt great affection for her. She’d given him Valentina.

Now, Valentina needed something from him—a new mother. After six years, his daughter had waited long enough for her father to remarry.

“ Papa. ” An excited whisper broke free.

“Look over there. I found her. She’s the one .

The only one. Look at her smile. It makes her eyes sparkle.

” Valentina’s gaze whipped to his. “Do you see her? She’s dressed in a red redingote with matching shoes.

” Valentina clasped her hands in front of her as a sweet giggle escaped. “She’s beautiful. I want to meet her.”

James stood and took his daughter’s hand in his. He studied the assembly of women below who surrounded his Aunt Evelyn, the Duchess of Darnley. Not a single woman wore a redingote, nor had anyone donned the garish color of red.

“Darling, I’m not seeing her,” he murmured as he scanned the crowd again.

“What are you two looking at?” James’s cousin from his mother’s side, Harry Knollwood, came near and stood on Valentina's other side. “All the potential brides for your father?” Harry gently pulled one of Valentina’s curls as his gaze swept across the entry.

“Cousin, she’s here. My new mum,” Valentina exclaimed as she smiled Harry’s way. Her grin revealed two perfectly matched dimples on her cheeks.

James gently squeezed her hand. “Now wait, darling, before you get your hopes up,” he gently cautioned.

“Where?” Harry asked completely ignoring James. “Where is she?”

“See her in the red redingote?” Valentina pointed across the ballroom. “ The red redingote ,” she repeated with another giggle.

Harry gasped a breath and then grinned. “I see the redingote.”

The wonder in Harry’s voice left James feeling a little left out. What in the deuce did these two see that he didn’t? An ocean of pastel silk and satin moved in waves below them. It was striking but an ordinary sight. It certainly wasn’t anything that would steal a person’s breath.

“You have the wrong color,” Harry murmured. “She’s in a yellow one.”

At the same time, Valentina announced, “She’s in a red one.”

His daughter pointed toward Tipton, the duke and duchess’s butler.

Through the open doorway of the ballroom, Tipton was assisting two ladies at the entrance.

From their appearance, they had just arrived from traveling, as they wore bonnets and redingotes.

One of them was dressed in red, and surprisingly, it didn’t seem ostentatious or even garish. Frankly, the woman wore the color well.

By her stance, she appeared confident, composed, but not at all arrogant. Tipton rocked back on his heels and wore a rare grin. The lady charmed him, making James interested in meeting her.Anyone who could make their normally stoic butler smile was definitely worth making her acquaintance.

Valentina pulled James’s hand, coaxing him to the stairs. “We must welcome her, Papa. She must have traveled a long way to come to us.”

“Oh-ho there, my fair Valentina,” Harry called out, then laughed. “She’s mine.”

Valentina stopped on the landing and turned Harry’s way.

The haughtiest look that James had ever seen appeared on his darling daughter’s face.

“Sir, need I remind you that you have a mum? I do not.” She tilted her button nose toward the ceiling.

“If Papa and I don’t like her, you may have her. But only then.”

James ran a hand down his face. “Valentina, these ladies are not puppies you decide to bring into your home. They deserve our utmost respect and best manners.”

He needed to marry quickly. A mother would instruct Valentina on the proper decorum when disagreeing with someone, particularly an adult.

A mother would know how to guide his daughter and model the appropriate behavior.

Unfortunately, James didn’t have the heart to severely discipline Valentina.

He had been utterly enchanted with her since he first held her in his arms.

“Yes, yes, Papa,” she agreed, pulling him down the marble steps toward the mystery woman.

Harry followed behind. “You’re going to have trouble with that little miss.”

James just grunted but turned on a requisite dazzling smile when he caught the duchess pointing him out with a slight tilt of her fan to someone. When they arrived at the bottom of the steps, his aunt flicked her fan, a motion for him to attend her, and the ladies who had gathered around her.

At the bottom of the steps, James turned in his aunt’s direction, but Valentina had her own plans. She let go of James’s hand, then did what any other little hoyden would have done under the circumstances.

She navigated through the crowd, deftly sidestepping one lady after another. Unbelievably, Harry followed her. Finally, she came to a halt beside Tipton. Without waiting for the butler to finish his conversation with the two ladies in redingotes, she tugged at the tails of his black morning jacket.

James nodded an apology to the duchess and turned to intercept his daughter before she could do any more damage. If she kept displaying this behavior, James feared the eager ladies might decline his offer of marriage.

By the time he made his way to the door where Harry, Valentina, and Tipton stood, the lady in the red redingote had bent down to discuss something with his daughter.

The ostrich feather in her bonnet curled around her cheek, obscuring her profile.

The woman’s stance showed a natural poise, and her voice was light and musical.

He couldn’t hear much of their conversation above the din of the noise, but Valentina’s laughter erupted as she held the woman’s hand.

“Let me introduce you to my papa,” Valentina said confidently.

“Please pardon my daughter,” James said, then elegantly bowed. “She’s excited to meet you.”

By then, the younger woman in the yellow redingote turned her attention to Harry. With her perfect features, golden hair, and blue eyes, she was the quintessential English rose, Harry’s ultimate weakness.

With a look of enchantment, Harry took the young woman’s hand and brought it to his lips. “You are the woman of my dreams.”

The young woman blushed and then turned to James. Her eyes widened like a deer caught in the sight of a hunter when she saw him. Her gaze whipped to the red redingote woman, who, in turn, finally straightened and faced his direction.

At first, he couldn’t believe what, or should he say, who was in front of him.

“You!” James practically hissed at the familiar visage as a sneer tugged at the corner of his mouth. “What are you doing here?”