Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

I t was an impossible task.

Marrying off all seven of his sisters?

Sisters who, while all intriguing in their own way, were not exactly what most men of the ton would consider marriage material?

It would take a miracle.

Fitz watched them as they danced together in one corner of the ballroom. Well, five of them. Two of them were not yet old enough to attend such events.

Thank goodness.

He could barely handle the first five.

"Having a good time?"

Fitz turned at the voice, his smile breaking free when he recognized his long-time friend, Baxter Munroe. The man had very few flaws but for an inescapable one – his sister.

Some might argue that his generous mustache was also suspect, but Fitz appreciated the way it flourished and how Munroe wore it without shame.

"I will have a much better time once my mother takes my sisters home," Fitz said, running a hand through his hair, unable to help the self-deprecating laugh that escaped. The duty of his sisters should cause him a great deal of consternation, but he couldn't allow his thoughts about it to deepen, or he would never be able to focus on anything else.

"They're a lively lot," Munroe said, taking a sip of his drink as he watched the girls. They should be standing demurely on the side of the dance floor, waiting to be asked for a dance or a turn about the room. But no. Not Fitz's sisters. Instead, they were moving back and forth in time to the music, dancing with one another, unable to quietly wait – except for Sloane, who looked about ready to fall asleep.

"They're not unlike you," Munroe commented, viewing Fitz from the corner of his eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Fitz asked, although he was already chuckling, knowing exactly what it meant. He was also not one to wait around idly.

Munroe only shook his head. "Thank goodness I've only one sister to marry off – and my father is still around to worry about her."

That shortened Fitz's laugh. He didn't want to think about Baxter's sister. She caused him more consternation than his own.

"Why is your mother in such a hurry suddenly?" Munroe asked. "What has changed?"

"Dot is four and twenty. Far older than young women should be to be married, at least according to my mother. All Dot wants to do, unfortunately, is become a midwife. Can you believe such a thing? My mother is beside herself and refuses to allow her to do such common work. Of course, Dot has a mind of her own, and you can hardly barricade a woman her age in her bedchamber, so my mother has tasked me with finding someone for her – and the others who are old enough."

"You have quite the job ahead of you."

"Don't I know it? I've practically begged half of the men here to dance with them, but I've heard every excuse there is as to why they cannot. Lost all humility I ever had to begin with."

Munroe laughed long and loud as Fitz finally sighed, shaking his head. "My parents really should have ensured that my sisters attended all of their dance lessons instead of the other pursuits they busied themselves with. Now they cannot find a dance partner due to all of these men who fear having their toes stepped on."

"Well, lucky for you, Fitz, I am a brave man."

Fitz looked up at Munroe with more hope than he should have dared felt. "You'll dance with them?"

"One of them," Munroe said, holding up an index finger as a slight look of horror flashed over his face. "Do not get too excited."

"One is wonderful," Fitz said, effusively taking Munroe's drink out of his hand and setting it down before he could change his mind. He led Munroe to where Dot, Henrietta, Sloane, Georgina, and Sarah waited. "Start with Dot."

"Start? I just said?—"

"Here we are. Dot, Lord Anderson here has a question for you."

Baxter shot him a quick look that was part disdain, part amusement before reaching out and taking Dot's hand, bowing low.

"Lady Dot, would you permit me a dance?"

Dot, with her usual matter-of-fact expression affixed to her, looked at first Munroe and then Fitz with skepticism before nodding her head. "Very well. It will appease Mother."

Munroe appeared flummoxed, unable to articulate a response as he led her out onto the dance floor, where couples were gathering for the next set. He leaned in as he passed Fitz. "Favor for a favor, Fitz. Find my sister."

Fitz closed his eyes for a moment, wondering if he could pretend that he didn't hear Munroe's request. But the man had a point. If he didn't return the favor, how could he ever ask Munroe for anything again?

He reluctantly turned around to look for her.

Only to find her standing behind him, her arms crossed and a jaunty smile on her face as though she was expecting him and knew exactly what he was thinking.

A terrifying thought, indeed.

"Lady Eliza." Fitz drew a visible intake of breath before forcing a smile for her.

Of all the men in all of London, it had to be him. Here. Now. If she'd had time once she realized it was him standing in front of her, she would have backed away before he had noticed her. She had allowed her intrigue in the interaction between her brother and Dot to distract her. "Lovely to see you."

"Oh, Fitz." She rolled her eyes, knowing he would never have noticed her had she not been standing so close. He had made his disinterest abundantly clear years ago. "Don't do that. Not to me."

"I am sure that I do not know what you are talking about," he said smartly, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"Drop the act, Fitz."

He eyed her momentarily before his lips curled up into his signature smile and his heels dropped onto the ground. "Very well. Lady Eliza, it has not been long enough since we last saw one another. I am sorry that we are meeting again."

"There, was that so hard?" She practically beamed, even though her feet were telling her to run as fast as she could away from this man. Other parts of her were saying something else, which was precisely the problem, and why she had no business being anywhere near him.

"Eliza!" Henrietta gasped from beside her, but Hen didn't understand. She never had. She loved her brother, and rightly so. Eliza was sure that Fitz was a wonderful brother to his seven sisters, two of whom – twins, Henrietta and Sloane – were close friends of hers. But he wasn't Eliza's brother. Not by a long shot. And he wasn't so wonderful to her.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked, the question clearly painful for him to muster.

"No," she answered honestly. She had another goal in mind tonight. She was on the hunt. Not for a husband, but something else entirely. "But if I deny you with my mother and the rest of the ton looking on, then there is sure to be, at the very least, scandal, and far more likely and annoying, my mother will pester me to know why I would turn down a man who is such close friends with our family and who has been so supportive of us. I do hate to disappoint my mother after all she has done for me."

"You are such a wonderful daughter."

"Do not patronize me."

"Very well," he said, lifting his brows. "But you do realize that you could have been like every other woman who is asked to dance by a man she despises and simply said yes." ?

"Where is the fun in that? Besides, I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it for my brother. He needs to make it look as though he is doing his duty in trying to marry me off and he thinks by asking you to return his favor and dance with me, it will be good enough."

"Must you be so forthright?"

"I must."

"What has gotten into you two?" Henrietta asked, looking between Eliza and her brother. "Dance or not but please do not subject me to such tension."

"Very well. My apologies, Hen," Eliza said as she reached out and practically snatched Fitz's arm. He said nothing as he led her to the middle of the floor where the musicians had just struck up a waltz. Of course. It had to be a waltz. One of his arms came around her, the other took her hand in his.

"It's been a while since we danced," he murmured against her ear, his breath hot on her neck. Eliza hated herself for the involuntary shiver he evoked within her.It was the kind of shiver she was looking for, but not from Fitz.

"Not long enough," she countered as stoutly as she could, becoming even more annoyed when he ignored her.

"I do not believe I have seen you since we were both at Greystone with Siena and Levi. What a time that was."

"It most certainly was," she said, wondering if it was the first time they had agreed on something.

"I hope you noticed how well-behaved I was during our time there."

"What does it matter what I think?" She furrowed her brow and leaned away from him so she could see into his face. "Besides, I am sure it must have been difficult for you to go so long without a woman warming your bed."

A smirk began to play over his lips and Eliza knew him well enough to be aware that a joke had come to him, one that she would likely rather not hear.

Finally, he couldn't help himself.

"It must have been difficult for you to resist volunteering for the job."

"I would rather sleep in the barn."

Then he did something that surprised her more than she would like.

He threw back his head and laughed out loud.

His laugh was one of those that was so overwhelmingly contagious, loud and booming, that all of the couples nearby and even those close to the other side of the dance floor turned toward them in both shock and interest to see what had so enraptured the earl.

Eliza lifted her hand off of his shoulder ever so slightly and smacked him. "Stop that."

"Why? You made the joke!"

"Everyone is staring."

"Do you care?" he asked, lifting a brow, and not for the first time, Eliza cursed him for how handsome he was.

"I do not. But my mother will. And your mother will. And then there will be hell to pay after this."

"I am a grown man, two and thirty. An earl. It doesn't matter what my mother thinks."

"Does it not?" Eliza said, lifting a brow and taking a small step backward. "Perhaps, then, we should go find her to discuss your intentions on taking a bride. I am sure she has an opinion. In fact?—"

"You will do no such thing," he practically growled, pulling her so quickly and tightly against him that she gasped, feeling every hard muscle not otherwise cloaked in an abundance of fabric meld against her body. "My mother does not need to know of such things."

"Because you are scared of her," she teased.

"I am not."

"You are! Otherwise, you wouldn't pay her interest in marrying off your sisters any mind and you would let Dot do exactly what she wants to do."

"And be a midwife?"

"She loves it."

"Just as I love new adventures. But you are not going to find me traipsing around the countryside night and day to fulfill my dreams. I have a job to do, and I am not going to shirk it. Dot also needs to do what she must."

"Says who?"

"Says…" he blinked, and she knew she had him for a moment. He shook his head abruptly. "Society. My mother. My father."

"Your father is dead, so he doesn't care. Your mother will be fine, and in fact, it seems to me she rather likes having her daughters nearby. She just thinks it is proper to marry them off. And you only care about society because of your political ambitions."

"I am an earl. I have my seat regardless of what people think of me."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I know you. You want people to think that you have no cares in the world, but you want them to respect you so that they listen to what you say and put credence in your opinions."

He leaned in toward her, more eagerness in his stance than she had ever seen in him before. He was usually such a carefree, lackadaisical man. "I want to create change, Eliza. To do that, I need people to support me."

"What kind of change?" she asked, suddenly intrigued, even though the song was beginning to come to a close.

"What the hell?" he growled, causing Eliza to start.

"That is not exactly the language?—"

But he had dropped his arms and left her, already walking away without another word.

"What in the world?" she muttered, knowing she should leave this be. She was here tonight to find a man who would teach her all that she had longed to know but never experienced. She should focus on her own goals.

She was unable to help her curiosity, however, as she followed Fitz across the dance floor in time to see him stop in front of Dot, whose hand was caught in that of a tall, thin man – Lord Mandrake if she was not mistaken.

"Mandrake!" Fitz practically bellowed, causing Eliza to jump. He was not usually a man with a temper, at least as far as she knew – and she knew him better than she would like.

"Get your hands off my sister!"