Chapter Two

"You are being a complete idiot, purposefully obtuse, and if you are not careful I will—"

"What, tell on us?" grinned Aylesbury with a laugh. "We're not at Eton anymore, Cothrom!"

The intermingling laughter made William Chance, Duke of Cothrom's head hurt.

"That isn't the point," he said testily, wishing to goodness he had chosen a more private place to have this conversation. "The point is—"

"There is no point, you just talk on and on," interrupted Lindow with a snort. "You've always been like this, Cothrom, so I won't ask you to change—but I will ask you to please desist!"

He nudged Aylesbury who was still laughing.

William's icy expression stiffened.

Well, he shouldn't have expected anything different. Hadn't he known, for years, that his brothers were going to be entirely unmanageable? And his fourth brother...

The less said about Pernrith, the better.

It was these two brothers that he was attempting to deal with at the moment, though he wasn't having a particularly easy time of it.

The trouble was, neither of them had any real incentive to listen to him. Oh, William was the eldest, and in most families, that would be enough. He was the head of the family. A duke, no less.

But John Chance, Marquess of Aylesbury, and George Chance, Earl of Lindow, just simply... didn't care.

It was exasperating.

William took a deep breath and tried again. If he could just get his brothers to under—

"It's not like it's your reputation that we're ruining by having fun," Aylesbury pointed out, his focus meandering as a pretty woman passed them. "It's... it's..."

William waited for a few moments while the second-born Chance brother's eyes lost all focus.

Damn it, man, but couldn't he concentrate for more than five minutes together?

"Ahem," William said, clearing his throat loudly.

Aylesbury blinked, then turned back to him with a grin. "What were you saying?"

"You were the one talking!" William said, attempting not to explode with anger. It was most difficult. Every inch of him was trembling with irritation, and the temper he knew was always bubbling under the surface threatened to overspill.

But he wouldn't let it. He was William Chance, Duke of Cothrom. He had a reputation to maintain, a place in Society to keep, a head to hold high.

Even if his brothers wanted to make it as difficult as possible for him.

"I was?" Aylesbury blinked. "Well, I suppose I was."

"I wouldn't worry about it, you weren't saying anything interesting," said Lindow with a snort.

William glared at Lindow, but the look did not appear to make much of a difference. If anything, it just encouraged him.

"I saw the lady too, and what a beauty," Lindow said in a low voice to Aylesbury. "In fact, she put me in mind of a woman I had the opportunity to... well... and she had the most exquisite hands..."

William's shoulders slumped as he let the nonsense of his two brothers wash over him.

It wasn't their fault. Not completely. The world rewarded young men who displayed idiocy and rakish behavior. No man ever lost his voucher at Almack's for a hint of scandal, nor was he refused entry to their club, the Dulverton, because a woman had been found slightly ruffled in the drawing room.

More's the pity.

Rules, that was what Society offered, what William had embraced. Rules for respectability, for how to speak to others, how to enter a room, eat with an oyster fork—rules for everything.

All one had to do was follow them. Was it truly so difficult?

"—and then I said, ‘My good sir, if you truly wished to win this round—'"

"You would also have cheated!" Lindow finished. He and Aylesbury guffawed, attracting more stares from others walking in Hyde Park.

And that was perhaps the final straw.

William did not consider himself a harsh man. He wished to hold his brothers to a high standard, true, but it was the precisely identical standard he held himself to. Each and every day, he did what was right. Why couldn't they?

"I suppose that is why the news of you cheating the Duke of Axwick made the newspapers," William said quietly through gritted teeth. "Honestly, Aylesbury, you could have chosen anyone to con out of their money, but you had to choose—"

"How was I supposed to know the old man was meant to stay away from the card table?" Aylesbury said, raising his eyebrows in the perfect image of innocence. "And besides, I only took a few pounds from him."

William sighed. "Enough to appear in the scandal sheets, so more than enough!"

He was being pushed right to the edge of his limit, and the worst of it was his brothers knew it.

Lindow grinned. "Oh, come on, Cothrom. We're not that bad, are we?"

"Don't you start," said William with a growl, trying his best to keep his voice low. "You may be interested to know that I have no fewer than four gentlemen each demanding that you marry their daughter. How do you intend to keep them all happy?"

His younger brother's eyes gleamed. "My word. A harem, do you think?"

William shoved his brother's arm as Aylesbury snorted. "I'm being serious, Lindow!"

"So am I," countered the man. "Who wouldn't want a gaggle of ladies waiting for you every evening?"

"You know, that's not a bad idea," said Aylesbury conversationally, though William could see he was only speaking in such a way to vex him. "In fact, when I marry—"

"You'll never marry," scoffed William.

"You never know, I might be forced to one day," said Aylesbury with a wink. "And when I do—"

"No one will wish to marry you if we don't get your wild antics under control," said William, breathing slowly to regain his control. "It would help your reputation to no end if you did marry—I beg you, marry, settle down, and stop causing so much trouble!"

Planning a wedding, as much trouble and expense as it was, would be the least of their problems. And matrimony would have to come to them all, eventually.

Presuming they still held their place in Society, that was. And the way his brothers were going, it would not be long before the name of Chance would be completely obliterated from Almack's, the Dulverton Club, Lady Romeril's invitation list...

Well. That last would not be a complete disaster.

"You should marry," he repeated, seeing that he had been entirely ignored.

Lindow snorted. "You get married!"

"There's nothing I would like more, but you rascals need far too much oversight," William snapped. "Besides, finding the perfect woman, one who has never strayed from the expectations of Society—"

"Hark at you and your nonsense," grinned Aylesbury. "Just find a woman you like and marry her! How hard can it be?"

William sighed as his brothers' conversation grew louder, and a couple in a carriage passing them looked back curiously. They weren't the only ones. It appeared that every single person in Hyde Park was intrigued to see what the Chance brothers were arguing about.

Dear Lord, there was even a woman by that bench pretending to look for something in her reticule, all in the hope of overhearing them! Surely no one took that long to find a mirror, or a comb, or whatever it was women kept in such things.

"Look," William said curtly, desperate to bring this to a good resolution, "all I want to do is go... oh, I don't know, three days without seeing our name in the papers."

Lindow's eyes sparkled. "Not even for positive things?"

"If you can manage to be mentioned by The Times for a positive reason, I would be all for it," William said, a reluctant smile creasing his lips. "You think you can manage it?"

Lindow shrugged. "Does almost knocking out a man at the Almonry Den Boxing Ring count?"

William's jaw dropped.

"You didn't! You clever old thing, tell me all about it," said Aylesbury with a grin. "Who did you knock out? I heard Big Max has returned from his time on the Continent, did you see..."

William groaned.

Damn it all to hell, but he hadn't even known his younger brother had been so foolish as to enter the ring of in illegal boxing fight in the most notorious Almonry Den. What on earth was the man thinking?

Was he going to spend the rest of his life trying to keep these brothers of his in line?

"What I don't understand," he muttered, half to them, half to himself, "is how I have only three brothers, but an infinite number of problems."

It was only when silence struck that William looked up. There was an awkward look on Aylesbury's face, and thunder on Lindow's.

"You have two brothers," the latter said coldly. "There are three of us."

William's stomach lurched. This old argument again. "You know full well—"

"I know nothing of the sort," Lindow said darkly. "He's not our brother."

"He's a Chance," William said heavily. It was the same debate over and over again. "He bears our name, he's our father's son."

"You keep talking about how important it is to keep this family respectable, yet you would accept him into the family?" Lindow said, his cheeks now red.

"An argument for another day," Aylesbury said awkwardly, trying to laugh. "The point is, we promise to try to keep scandal at bay for—shall we say a week?" He gave Lindow a congenial nudge.

It was well done, even William had to admit that. At least, he would admit it in the privacy of his own mind. It was galling to be outdone by Aylesbury, of all people. He, William, was supposed to be the one keeping them in line. He was the eldest. He was supposed to be getting them to agree to keep the Chance name highly regarded.

"Oh, maybe a week," said Lindow, bad temper almost immediately forgotten. "Is that good enough, Cothrom?"

William glared. "Good enough. Go on, be off with you."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and started toward home.

Well, that could have been worse, he tried to console himself. It could also have been a great deal better, of course. You never knew with Aylesbury and Lindow. They were both determined, opinionated men who had no compunction in rebelling against all that Society demanded of them.

And Aylesbury was a marquess, for God's sake!

William's blood burned in his veins as he walked, and he forced himself to slow down. His pace, and his temper, started to subside.

After everything he had done for them—the hours he had spent worrying about them, the debts he had paid off, the fathers he had convinced not to call them out over daughters William was absolutely sure had indeed been ruined...

Well. It was a miracle there wasn't a whole new generation of little Chances about the place.

Hyde Park was beginning to fill up. William could see ahead of him that the path ahead was almost blocked, there were so many carriages demanding to come through.

Better to take the Lancaster Gate.

Leaving the path and veering to the left, William promised himself a nice, relaxing afternoon reading in the library. Or going over the accounts. How much precisely had Aylesbury borrowed against his title? Again. Was it possible to go to the creditor, and—

William shook his head irritably as he entered the small woodland that lay between him and the Hyde Park gate. No, he mustn't think any more about his brothers' problems. He'd had enough of that today.

No, the rest of the day was about him. No one else. He could spend it mercifully alone, in the silence of—

A sudden jolt as something crashed into him left William winded, but his instincts took over. His hands reached out around the unexpected woman who was about to fall to the ground. His hands touched her arms. Skin on skin. Her hands splayed against his coat.

And all air left his lungs.

She was . . .

Beautiful. There was no other word. William was not sure sufficient words had been created for a woman such as this. Hair as white as a diamond, eyes gray, searching, panicked as she thought she was about to fall. Skin soft as silk. Her warmth crushed against him was enough to make him take a desperate breath, and William's eyes roved over her as he tried to gather his bearings.

It was impossible. A woman like this did not suddenly fall into one's lap. Where had she come from? Where was she going in such a hurry? Why was she here, unchaperoned?

"Dear God," said William, unable to say anything else.

Because desire was rushing through his veins just as forcefully as anger had only minutes before.

No one could blame him—a woman as elegant as this pressed up against a man... no one could resist.

Resist lowering his lips, slowly, claiming hers and tasting precisely how—

"Dear me!" said the woman in a loud voice. "Now you'll have to marry me!"

William blinked. "Wh-What?"

She couldn't be serious. Out of the question!

And then his mind, somehow lost in the confusion of desire and surprise, managed to make itself heard.

He, a gentleman, was standing with a woman in his arms. A woman he did not know. A woman who was panting wildly. And so, somehow, was he. And they were standing alone. No chaperone. In a woodland. Where anything could happen...

William shoved the woman away from himself so violently that she almost fell over.

It wasn't very gentlemanly, to be sure, but he was not about to lose his reputation.

It wasn't difficult—one's honor could be easily stained by one simple mistake. Why else did he guard against any hint of impropriety at every instant? Why else would he constantly have to argue with his brothers, trying to get them to be more careful, to take their appearances in Society seriously?

Because all it would take was one mistake, one slip, and all of a sudden, you've lost your reputation.

William swallowed. Though he was not going to marry a woman merely to avoid some scandal.

The very idea!

The woman, however, did not appear to be of the same mind. "You will have to marry me!" she said again.

"I most certainly will not," William said gruffly, placing his hands behind his back.

That was it. Demonstrate he had no intentions toward her beyond that of preventing her falling to the ground.

And kissing her.

The little voice that reminded him of that particular instinct was not welcome, but try as he might, William did not appear to be able to push it aside.

Damn it.

"You took me in your arms," the woman said, pointing most determinedly. "We are all alone here, you might have intended—"

"I intended nothing, woman," said William irritably.

Perhaps if he had not just had a debate with his brothers, he would not be feeling so prickly. As it was, he'd spent all morning concocting the perfect arguments, only to have them torn apart by Aylesbury and Lindow in less than ten minutes, and he was now most irritated.

Not that it was the fault of this woman, of course. Whoever she was.

"Everyone knows," the woman was saying, "if a gentleman and a lady find themselves in a compromised position—"

William glanced about them, pulse hammering. It slowed as he saw what he had hoped for.

No one was there.

No one had witnessed the sudden embrace he and this woman had shared. No one save she could have seen the way he'd looked at her, and he had to hope she had no idea he'd wanted to—

"I think you were almost about to kiss me," said the woman slowly. "And then you would most certainly have had to marry me."

She held her head high, as though her point were clear and irrefutable.

The trouble was, in almost any other situation, William would have agreed with her. If he had discovered one of his brothers in a similar clinch, he would have been marching that Chance brother down to buy a special license and make an honest woman of the poor dear who would be joining the family.

Not that he was about to admit to that particular piece of secret hypocrisy.

"I was not about to kiss you," William lied stiffly.

It was one lie. He could be forgiven that.

"And if you had," the woman said quietly, taking a step toward him, "would you have married me?"

William opened his mouth to reply, then realized he had absolutely no idea.

Would he have?

She was beautiful. She attracted him, there was no doubt about that. The stirrings in his loins when she had been nestled in his arms could not be denied. He was a stickler for the rules of courtship, however, and the rules were quite clear.

A hint of desire managed to break free from his icy heart and melted him. The mere thought of kissing this woman, of having her pressed up against him once more—

Almost too late, William took a step back. The woman had crept closer, perhaps even hoping to kiss him, to lure him in.

"How dare you!" William said, trying to keep his voice stern and push aside all delightful images of the woman kissing him. "You—you are attempting to entrap me!"

"Nonsense," said the woman dismissively, taking another step toward him.

William backed away, hitting the trunk of a tree and wondering what on earth was happening.

Things like this simply did not occur! Elegant ladies in blue gowns and straw bonnets did not accost gentlemen in Hyde Park for kisses! Or at least, if they did, he hadn't ever been included before.

This was ridiculous!

"I am not going to marry you," William said, hardly able to believe those words were coming out of his mouth. "It is absolutely outlandish to suppose—"

"You wanted to kiss me, so why not do it?" the woman said, taking another step closer.

William swallowed. His escape routes were swiftly diminishing with every step she took. Pushing past her wasn't an option—she would merely claim he had once again touched her. And it would be true.

This was madness. He was about to be made to propose to—

No. No, he was the Duke of Cothrom. He was a Chance. He was not so foolish.

Stepping to the side and seeing the surprise in her wide eyes, William congratulated himself on an escape well made. Just a few more steps, and he would be out of the woodland. Out of danger.

"Sir, you must—"

"I must nothing," said William, almost falling over his own feet in his eagerness to get away.

If this had been any other situation, he would have laughed. Him, running away from a beautiful woman! Any man running away from this woman would need his head examined. She was intriguing, alluring, and most anxious to be kissed. An intoxicating combination.

And perhaps if William had been a different kind of man, he might have obliged her. Aylesbury or Lindow certainly would not have missed the opportunity to taste those lips.

William swallowed. No wonder they persisted in their disreputable behavior. If it were half as fun as this, he could well understand it. But just because he saw the attraction, that did not mean he was going to capitulate.

He was the Duke of Cothrom. He was a Chance.

He was, most of the time, the only thing holding the family back from ruin. And he was not going to start going around kissing young ladies just because they dared him to!

The woman appeared to be reading his thoughts. "You... you aren't going to marry me, are you?"

William hesitated, just for a moment.

They had moved out of the green leafy canopy of the woodland, and in the bright light of day, it was even clearer to him just what a beauty this woman was. There was an elegance, a refinement to her he had not expected a moment ago as she'd stepped toward him with the eagerness of a harlot. In any other scenario, he might have sought her out. Wished to know her better. Requested an introduction, met her father, and...

And things could have been very different.

William drew himself up. But things were not different. They were how they were, and he had no choice but to remind this woman, kindly but sternly, of her responsibilities to herself and to Society.

Really!

Perhaps she had heatstroke. Perhaps the sudden warmth of this spring day was playing havoc with her senses, William thought wildly.

But then, it had not been that warm a day when he had left to meet his brothers an hour ago. So why was he so overheated now?

"I am not going to marry you," he said stiffly. "And honestly, you are a fool for thinking that that sort of trick would work."

The woman examined him closely, a hint of a smile dancing across her lips. "And you aren't tempted?"

William swallowed.

Temptation was one thing. Giving in was another. And he was not about to permit himself that weakness, no matter how much he wanted to. He hadn't got this far in life, sacrificed so much, held himself to such a high standard for so long, merely to give it all up for the chance of a kiss with a... a woman he did not know!

"I am not tempted in the least," he said, lying for the second time that day, a personal worst. "And I'll have you know I am far too respectable—far too respectable, I repeat—to be taken in by such a ruse!" Even though he almost had been. "Good day to you!"

And without another word, William turned on his heel and marched away.

To his relief, the Lancaster Gate was close. It meant that stepping onto Bayswater Road prevented him from giving into the second temptation of the day which he had not expected.

The temptation to look back.