Page 4 of Two Ruins Make a Right

Two

Vanity speeds you down ruin’s road.

N ell Leighton, the widowed Marchioness of Whitton, closed her eyes and willed away the vision of James Richardson looming in front of her.

Of all the wretched, unlucky circumstances. Why did her carriage have to break an axle outside the Duke and Duchess of Darnley’s country estate? Hell would have been more welcoming than this particular place.

If that wasn’t bad enough, the duke’s smug, not to mention surly, heir stood before her. His eyes narrowed as he regarded her.

Nell sucked in her stomach and clenched her jaw. She would make the best of the situation and leave before an unpleasant scene erupted.

The adorable little girl who held her hand looked up at her. “Do you know my papa?”

That was a difficult question to answer.

He had been her best friend, lover, and confidant in years past. She was to have been his wife.

Now, at best, he was a stranger. At worst, an enemy.

Nell delivered one of her sweetest smiles, hoping to disarm James, the little angel’s papa, before he attacked first. Unfortunately, Nell wasn’t fast enough.

“She does, sweetheart.” He glanced at his daughter, the love clearly showing in the twinkle in his eyes. He turned his attention to Nell, and his eyes darkened. “My lady, I should say welcome.” The dismissal in his tone contradicted his words. “However, I’m agog to discover you here.”

“Papa, let’s practice how we greet guests. Please introduce me. I must welcome her, too.” The little girl’s voice resonated with excitement as she bounced on her toes.

Instantly, Nell froze. Introduce and welcome her? She wanted to laugh at the paradox but somehow managed to keep a straight face. James would likely throw her out of Redmond Hall and lock the door behind her.

James sniffed as his nose lifted to an arrogant height. “May I introduce you to my daughter, Miss Valentina Richardson?”

Nell’s gaze naturally fell on the little one standing before her with luscious black curls highlighted by her white dress trimmed in royal blue ribbon.

For a moment, all the noise and the bustle surrounding them melted.

Valentina looked up at her father and delivered a smile that would melt a curmudgeon’s heart.

When James slipped his daughter’s hand into his.

Nell’s heart lurched in its beat at the sight of such affection.

A child of her own was the one thing that Nell had never received from her marriage to the Marquess of Whitton. Though he was nearly thirty years her senior, the marquess had been kind and generous. He’d given her almost everything she’d ever wanted, and then some.

But he never gave her one of the things she desired above all else—a child.

“My lady.” The beautiful little girl executed a perfect curtsey, then looked adoringly at Nell. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been waiting for you?—”

“Enough of the idle chit-chat, my darling. I’m sure Lady Whitton is anxious to be on her way.” James placed a protective arm around Valentina and pulled her close.

“Indeed,” Nell answered. “Our carriage broke down in front of Redmond Hall. I’m traveling with my sister Christa.”

One of James’s brows arched. “How convenient for you. As you can see, we’re entertaining guests. We shouldn’t tarry. I’ll leave you in Tipton’s capable hands.”

Valentina scowled at her father.

“As you can see, we’re entertaining guests,” James repeated.

“You already told her that.” Valentina turned her attention to Nell. “What my papa forgot to say is that you’re invited to join us.”

“Well, I...” Nell fumbled for a second.

Her sister scooted closer. “Good afternoon, Mr. Richardson.” Christa curtsied, then turned to Valentina. “I’m Christa.”

“I’m Valentina.” The little girl curtsied the same as Christa. “You’re welcome to attend the party as well,” she volunteered with a wide smile.

Christa eyes widened at the invitation. Without hesitating, she smiled.

“Thank you, Valentina.” She turned to Nell.

“What a coincidence. Harry...I mean, Mr. Knollwood has invited us to luncheon. I’m famished.

” She tilted her gaze to Mr. Knollwood and blushed prettily, then turned her attention back to Nell.

“Please? A rest would benefit the horses, the coachmen, and us.”

James slid his hardened gaze to his cousin. “Harry, how thoughtful. Two more...for luncheon.”

Harry scoffed lightly. “Miss Ellison is tired and hungry. I dare say that Lady Whitton is also. One of their carriage axles broke right outside the main entrance. Isn’t it fortuitous that they arrived here?”

“Indeed,” James drawled, then grunted softly in disapproval before he turned to Nell. “I’m practically giddy over that fact. My lady, perhaps it might be best if I might have a word with you...privately.”

She nodded curtly and then took his offered arm.

It was best to get their confrontation over with swiftly so she could be on her way.

The sooner she left Redmond Hall, the better for all of them.

Why had she even thought they might rekindle their friendship?

He could barely stand to be civil toward her.

James escorted her to a small sitting room off the entry in silence. As soon as they entered, he slammed the door harder than necessary and turned to face her with his hands on his trim waist. Since Nell hadn’t stepped far into the room, they ended up colliding chest-to-chest.

Taken off guard, she took an awkward step backward.

“Pardon me,” he said, taking her elbow to steady her. His eyes flashed with concern.

Heat, the kind that told too much, bludgeoned her cheeks.

When he realized she wouldn’t fall, his earlier hostility returned. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, but if it’s to throw your hat in the ring, you’re too late. You already had your chance.”

“What are you talking about?” He still wore the same fragrance, a spicy sandalwood mixed with bergamot. It always made her take notice of him and his handsome allure. She wrinkled her nose. If fate were kind, his so-called handsome allure hopefully had diminished over the years.

“My aunt’s guests.”

Nell tilted her head and furrowed her brow.

“Potential matrimonial prospects for me.” He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t know?”

She shook her head. “Enlighten me.”

“I’m ready to remarry...my daughter needs....” He ran a hand through the short black locks of hair on his head.

Nell had always loved to run her fingers through his hair, especially after they kissed. The thick, silky strands appeared as soft as when she had last touched him.

Nell shook her head, desperate to control her unruly emotions, which threatened to riot. It was best to leave the memories in the past, along with extended apologies.

“It’s just...rather ironic that the day the house party starts, you magically arrive.” His gaze traveled down her body to her feet and then back up. He was assessing her, and the mulish look on his face indicated that he found her lacking.

Nell straightened her shoulders and clasped her hands in front of her in a show of serene composure. “I had no idea that my carriage would break down today.”

Mocking her, he lifted one eyebrow.

“Nor did I plan for this to happen in front of Redmond Hall.” Her anger rose like a loaf of bread, slow and steady, but just as hot.

His demeanor would test the most pious and patient saint.

“You”—she pointed right at the middle of his chest where his inarguably hardened heart probably lay in a shrunken, shriveled pile—“and only you would believe that this was planned as some great conspiracy.”

He grabbed her finger, and they both hissed simultaneously.

The heat of his hand clenching hers made every particle of her being sit straight up at attention. With traitorous ease, her body leaned closer like a flower deprived of its much-needed sun.

Bloody hell!

It was wrong of her to even think of such a curse, but why did he still have to be so attractive?

With his hair as black as midnight, blue eyes brighter than a kingfisher’s feathers, and those perfect patrician features, he was hard to ignore.

Nor was it easy to forget that he was a viral, potent specimen of a man—all six feet, one inch of him.

He could have been the model for Michelangelo’s David.

The high cheekbones and wide, soft lips didn’t help matters. A frustrated groan escaped her lips.

“Nell,” he said in a velvet voice. He always spoke like that when he had seduction on his mind.

She closed her eyes, and suddenly it was eight years earlier when they’d attended a picnic at this very same house.

“Nell, I want you,” he said softly. Hidden behind a majestic oak, far from the others, he pressed his lips against hers. “Marry me.” With the lightest of touches, his tongue traced her bottom lip, begging for more.

God help her, she could never resist him or his kisses.

He deepened the kiss, then drew back. “Marry me,” he pleaded.

“Yes. James. Yes.”

“Nell.”

Her name on his lips still possessed the power to make her breath quicken.

“I don’t want to argue or make things awkward between us.”

Surely, she wasn’t imagining his smile that bespoke a possible truce.

Ack, she shouldn’t trust it. She should ignore such na?ve optimism.

Instead, she should recognize a great piece of acting when it was played in front of her.

Yet, it wasn’t in her nature to be so cynical.

She continued to stare at his mouth. It should be a royal edict that no man alive could possess such sinfully full lips, ones perfectly designed for nibbling, licking, sucking, and not to mention, kissing.

She shook her head to knock away her daydream. “Be we are. Awkward, I mean.” She took another step away, then turned to gaze out the window, where it was safer.

“Why are you traveling this way?” he asked.