Chapter 3

Great Aunt Prudence's eightieth birthday celebrations at Newstead Park—the Montgomery mansion adjacent to the monstrous Davies Welsh castle, Trellech Court—provided Lenore with the perfect opportunity to put her plan to capture Rhys Davies's heart into action.

He might have done his best to avoid her for almost an entire social season, but he would definitely be attending the week-long party. Almost all of his Davies relatives would be there, and Lenore had decided enough was enough.

Something had to be done.

She'd spent months trying to get the stupid man to notice her, but even her most unsubtle attempts had met with failure. She'd been sure that once he saw how many other men desired her—including a duke!—that the well-documented competitive nature of the Davies male would kick in, and he'd start trying to win her affections, just to prove to everyone that he could.

He hadn't even asked her to dance.

She'd dressed in the most heart-stoppingly gorgeous gowns she could find, ones made by the infamous French seamstress Madame LeFèvre on Bond Street, known for her skill in creating dresses that brought men to their knees.

All Rhys had done was glare at her from across the room, as if she was being deliberately provoking.

Which she was. So why didn't he do something about it?

He clearly desired her. His brown eyes darkened to almost black whenever they met hers, and a thrilling jolt of excitement flashed over her skin. She'd smiled at him, but instead of shoving every man in his path aside, stomping across the room, and dragging her out into the gardens for a thoroughly welcome ravishing, he'd merely clenched his jaw and turned away as if the sight of her was more than he could bear.

Lenore was reaching the limits of her patience. Her stupid heart was fixed on Rhys, despite how little he'd done to deserve it, but she had her pride. If, after a week in her company at the party, he still showed no signs of returning her affections, then she would abandon her pursuit of him.

Every sense urged that he was the perfect man for her, but perhaps she was being blinded by a healthy dose of infatuation. He was, after all, the most physically attractive man she'd ever met, so maybe she was just suffering from a case of unrequited lust, and not love?

She almost hoped that was the case. If Rhys rejected her, she'd be heartbroken, but at least she'd know she'd have to settle for one of her many other suitors, or remain a lifelong spinster, like her great aunts Constance and Pru.

This party was her last chance to either capture his attention, or assure herself of his indifference.

Luckily, Aunts Constance and Prudence were some of England's finest meddlers. They loved nothing more than poking their noses into other people's business, especially if that business included a Davies, and they both nodded with gleeful enthusiasm when Lenore told them of her predicament.

"Well of course we'll help you, darling," Prudence had smiled. "Although are you sure he's the one? He's outrageously handsome, I'll give you that, but the man must be blind not to have noticed how wonderful you are."

Lenore wrinkled her nose. "Oh, he's noticed me. He just does an excellent job of pretending not to whenever we're in the same room. And when he does deign to look my way, he acts as though my looks are an annoyance, not an attraction."

"That's still an excellent start." Constance grinned up from her knitting. "At least you're arousing a primitive reaction. Anger is still passion, after all. If he were indifferent, that would be far worse."

"I suppose," Lenore shrugged. "But I need to show him there's more to me than just a pretty face. I am funny and clever and resourceful."

"You just have to spend some time with him, alone," Pru said. "If he deserves you, then he'll come to appreciate your excellent qualities. And he'll show you his own."

"There will be plenty of opportunities to be alone with him this week." Constance nodded. "Especially if we make them happen."

Lenore smiled. "What are you thinking?"

"Well, you and Rhys are the only ones who aren't married, which means the others will naturally form their own couples whenever it comes to playing games. And you know how much we all love a little friendly Davies-Montgomery rivalry."

Pru grinned. "Connie and I had the marvelous idea of doing a treasure hunt of some sort. It's going to take place here, in the Newstead grounds, and on Davies land, around Trellech Court. That way there can be no claims of an unfair advantage for either side."

"We'll put everyone in teams of two, of course," Constance chuckled. "One Davies and one Montgomery."

Lenore chuckled. "Genius."

"We have at least four Davies-Montgomery couples already. Gryff and Maddie, Carys and Tristan, Morgan and Harriet, and you and Rhys."

"What about Caro and Lucy? Neither of them succumbed to the dreaded Davies curse."

"Their husbands will be honorary Davies. Just for this week."

"I love it," Lenore laughed.

Prudence gave a satisfied nod. "Knowing how ridiculously competitive you all are, I predict all manner of amusing skullduggery. I can't wait."

"And with you teamed up with Rhys, we'll make sure to send you all to the most remote locations to find clues." Constance gave a wicked wink, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Nothing like having to work together through adversity to really find out what the other person's made of."

Prudence nodded. "You might find him completely obnoxious and unbearable."

"It might be a blessing," Lenore said wryly. "At least I'd be cured of this ridiculous infatuation."

"Or you might discover he's been harboring exactly the same infatuation," Constance snorted. "And he's been too stubborn to do anything about it. I think that's far more likely. Either way, you'll have your answer by the end of the week. You'll either love him, or be free of him."

Lenore nodded. "Let the games begin."