Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

ONE MONTH LATER

A mbrose knew Barbara had shared her decision to find a husband with her friends a week after he had caught her in his gambling hell because Helena had come to him to tell him about it immediately . He had kept his questions simple and mild—the way he always did when drawing information out of someone—and deduced that Barbara, while having shared her new change of heart, had not told Helena or Lydia the reason why. Since then, Ambrose had found any petty reason to be in the room when his little sister had her friends over, listening for tidbits of information.

He had been surprised, worried, and amused when he discovered Helena had quite the talent for sleuthing out information much like himself. Her knowledge of the Season's eligible gentlemen was both thorough and well organized, even ranging from a "most likely" category to a "do not bother" one. Barbara, as he had suspected, never spared a single look at him when he was in the room, always keeping her eyes on the table or her friends.

"Brother, what are you mauling over?" Helena asked, her hands on her hips as she scowled at him.

Ambrose blinked twice, snapping himself out of his thoughts of Barbara and her strange deal, and looked over at his sister. Her lovely face was contorted into a look of pure annoyance—a look he'd seen since her birth, and he could not help the silly smile that spread across his face.

"What sort of bee has buzzed in your bonnet, little sister?" he teased, leaning forward.

He reached out to her cheek, about to nudge it affectionately, but he stopped and frowned as he saw how red her rouge was. It was far too bold for a young noble lady such as herself, and his amusement turned into annoyance.

"Who painted this on?" he asked, his brow furrowing.

Helena tugged her chin from his fingers and stuck her tongue out at him obstinately. Eighteen or not, she still resorted to childish antics when it came to him.

"I like it, so I am keeping it," she said haughtily, crossing her arms—a trait, he knew, she picked up from Barbara. "And I am annoyed because I have been calling your name for the past several minutes and you have been ignoring me!"

Ambrose's frown deepened a little, not convinced. "Nonsense," he said defensively.

Helena raised a dark, delicate eyebrow and nodded toward the one window in the carriage that did not have its curtain drawn.

"Look outside, brother," she challenged, "and tell me where we are."

Ambrose pursed his lips, but he obliged and looked out the window. He let out a gruff sound of defeat as he saw the lantern-illuminated front garden of the Starlight Festival entrance. Had he really gotten so lost in thought about Barbara's deal with him that he'd zoned out of the present?

That does not happen . That does not happen to you. Ever.

"What on earth were you thinking about?" Helena asked with a bored sigh. "I've never seen you so lost in thought. I did not know what you actually thought until just now. I only believed you barked orders."

Ambrose gave her a look that only an annoyed older brother could give his annoying little sister, and he opened the carriage door.

"Come on, I have kept us," he replied. "Let us get you inside. I am sure your friends are eagerly awaiting."

"In truth, they are," Helena huffed, accepting his hand to get out of the carriage. "It is a most exciting evening, you see," she went on as she looped her arm through his and began to walk with him. "Tonight, we are securing Barbara's match. She has decided that this must be the night. Lydia and my only duty this evening is to help her find that man. And you have kept me late!"

"Exciting, indeed," Ambrose muttered under his breath as he let his sister set a faster pace.

It was clear that she was eager to see how the night would unfold, and hopefully, she was so determined to get inside that she would not see that he shared that same eagerness.

"I have not seen you in pastel in—well, I believe never," Lydia stated, looking up and down Barbara's lavender dress.

"Never mind the color," Barbara whispered, smoothing her hands down the dress. "Does it look… appealing? "

It was one from years ago, but with some alterations made by herself, she'd been able to add some more modern touches and make it look new. She could not bear to sew in the waist like the newest style, but she shortened the sleeves and added a layer of cream lace among her skirts to give it a softer look. Her usual dresses in hues of grey and other muted colors were far more rigid and would not do to catch a husband.

"It looks lovely," Lydia assured her, giving her a warm smile. " You look lovely, and I am certain, a gentleman or two will agree with me."

"Barbara!" another familiar voice called before Barbara could turn to follow Lydia's gaze.

Knowing she was now being watched, she turned away from Lydia to face Helena with a nervous smile. It nearly vanished when she saw Ambrose at her side, his arm still holding his little sister's. Her nostrils flared as she fought the urge to grimace, and she forced her smile to widen even more. Helena balked as she did so, and Ambrose snickered and turned to look at anything else.

"Darling, what was that?" Helena asked, her voice a hushed whisper as she let go of Ambrose's arm and walked toward Barbara.

"What was what?" Barbara asked, feeling her cheeks flush.

"That smile," Ambrose scoffed. "You looked like a small dog ready to bite."

Barbara's temper darkened, what little confidence she'd gathered for the night faltering under his insult, as Helena delivered a swift slap to Ambrose's arm before demanding that he go away. Ambrose's smirk only remained on his face as he met Barbara's eyes again, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Good luck," he half sang, his tone sarcastic as he started to walk away. Then in his regular tone, he added, "You will clearly need it."

Barbara took a step toward him, her mouth already opening to fling back a loud, colorful insult, but then she felt her friend's hands on her shoulders, and Helena's brown eyes were directly in front of her green ones.

"Do not waste your breath or your chances on him," Helena stated firmly.

"Helena is right," Lydia agreed, joining the conversation. "Ambrose is just trying to goad you as he always does. You know how the two of you are, like oil and vinegar. Put all of your focus into tonight's goal, and you can rub it in his smug face later."

"We are all prepared, and you look absolutely beautiful," Helena added in a show of true friendship. "Tonight, we find your husband."

Barbara knew that this was supposed to be the time when butterflies fluttered in her stomach and a smile appeared on her face. Instead, though, she felt like multiple wasps were stinging her organs, all injecting their poison into her from the inside out. She did not want to do this. Not really. But she had to.

"Do I truly look like a dog when I smile?" Barbara asked, returning to the task at hand.

Helena relaxed with a soft laugh as Lydia rolled her eyes and then shot Ambrose a glare from across the room.

"You do not," Helena promised, linking her arm through hers. "But I must admit, it did look a bit frightening."

"Do you think the other gentlemen saw?" Barbara asked.

Even as she did so, she loathed asking such unimportant questions. It was unlike her to care what men thought of her appearance, but now that her future—and her father's—depended on it, she had no choice but to pretend that she did.

"No," Lydia replied, and Barbara knew by the way she said it that it was a lie.

"Forget that," Helena stated quickly, walking them toward the refreshments table. "We are here for a purpose. Now come, let us fulfill it."

"Lady Barbara, you are a riot with your comedy." The gentleman laughed jovially. "I have never heard a woman speak in such a way! Tell me, where did you learn this talent?"

"Well, Mister Ferris, I suppose it is a natural trait," Barbara replied, adding a light laugh for extra effect.

This made the landowner—not titled, but of decent wealth—chuckle with mirth and shake his head.

Barbara's evening had, admittedly, had a rough start. After her confidence had faltered because of Ambrose, she made her first two encounters with gentlemen rather awkward. However, by the third, she got at least a polite smile, and now with her fourth, she had managed to get an actual conversation. Soon, she hoped, it would lead to an invitation to dance. And if everything went well, an offer to call on her tomorrow.

Quickly, wanting to share her success, Barbara scanned the flower fairy-themed ballroom for her friends. She found Lydia quickly and felt another burst of confidence as her friend gave her a bright, supportive smile. After returning it, Barbara continued to scan the full crowd, frowning slightly when Helena was nowhere to be seen.

"Lady Barbara, it has been a true delight to meet you this evening, but I cannot believe we have only just met now. Tell me, have you been hiding?"

Barbara almost missed the question, still looking for Helena.

"It has been a delight, has it not?" she replied. "No, I was not in hiding. I was simply taking my time before entering the marriage market."

The words were not as flirtatious as her previous ones had been, her focus drawn more toward Helena's absence. Becoming more distracted, she looked around again, and a warning bell went off in her head when she spotted Ambrose with a group of gentlemen. Seeing him meant he wasn't with Helena, which meant she was alone. Helena never went off alone.

"Lady Barbara?" Mister Ferris asked, his tone suddenly more clipped than before.

"My deepest apologies, good sir. What was that?" she asked, not even turning her eyes to him.

"I asked if you would please join me in a dance," Mister Ferris said slowly, snapping her attention back to him immediately.

A dance! It was what she had been working for all night, and she had finally gotten one! Now would be the time to smile, to turn up whatever flattery her friends had taught her, and set bait for her husband.

Yes, say yes! a voice said in her head. But Helena…

"Mister Ferris, it would be an absolute delight to dance with you, I would like that very much," Barbara began, feeling her pulse quicken with worry as she looked once more for her friend.

Mister Ferris smiled at her, relieved, but she continued.

"But I need a few minutes before we do. I simply must look for a dear friend of mine, she seems to have disappeared."

Mister Ferris's smile turned into a frown, but he seemed to recover from his disappointment and remember duty and honor.

"That is quite concerning, indeed," he replied. Then, in a tone that indicated he truly did not want to, he asked, "Should I help you look for her?"

"That is most kind, Mister Ferris, but no," Barbara replied, not missing the look of relief on his face. "I shall return as soon as I find her, I assure you. "Your patience is most appreciated."

She took off without any more type of farewell, not bothering to worry if such a thing would offend him, and headed toward the garden entrance. For the next several minutes, she combed through the mazes of flowers and hedges, calling softly for Helena any time she came upon a private moment among the other guests milling about. Her worry turned into panic as she began to run out of places to look for her, but then her heart absolutely stopped when she heard the thready, terrified sound of her friend's voice.

"Please, sir. Leave me be," Helena begged from nearby. "I did not mean to beckon you in any way. It was a misunderstanding."

"I have discovered that ladies painted up like you never truly mean that," a man's voice replied, arrogant and deep.

Barbara moved toward the voices, trusting her feet to guide her, and rounded a group of hedges to find her friend backed up and pinned against a stone wall between a hedge and a fountain. The man, his back to Barbara, had his hands against the wall, each placed closely by Helena's ears, and he was leaning close to her face.

"Oh, trust me, we always mean that," Barbara said loudly, marching toward them.

The man moved his left arm away from the wall as he heard her voice, turning his face to her and fully revealing Helena. Her beautiful face was pale, the rouge on her cheeks now looking like fresh blood instead of a blush, and her eyes were wide with fear.

"Come to me now," Barbara commanded.

Helena did so immediately, but before she could take more than three steps, the man reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"We were just having a conversation," the black-suited, no-doubt nobleman replied dryly.

"Tell me, do you believe your lies as thoroughly as you expect others to?" Barbara retorted, moving her body between the man and her friend. She gripped his wrist unabashedly and pried his fingers off Helena's one by one.

"You are not a very polite young lady," the man stated, his voice dripping with sudden anger as his fingers now circled Barbara's wrist.

"One of you is trying to take advantage of young ladies, and it is not her."

Dread and relief filled Barbara as she heard a familiar masculine voice behind her. Relief that they had been found. Dread for who had found them.

"Tell me," Ambrose asked, stepping between Barbara and the man, "who is the impolite one here?"

"Dennings, it seems you have once more stepped out of bounds," Ambrose mused, his eyes landing on the man's grip on Barbara's wrist.

The Duke of Dennings—a man Ambrose loathed and did not bother to pretend to like—drew his lip and nostrils up in a disappointed sneer.

"You know how confusing these women on the marriage market may be," he replied with venom. "They say one thing and mean another. All they want is to trap us."

Ambrose ground his jaw as he felt guilt shoot through him. That was exactly what Barbara was trying to do. Trap a husband. To pay him. He swallowed the guilt, tucking it away for later, and reached for his usual calm strength.

"While I believe Lady Barbara here could certainly trap someone like you for anything, I highly doubt it would be for your hand in marriage, Dennings. Let us be honest, shall we? You have a reputation for being a rake, your debts are legendary, and while you may be a duke, your land is one of the most paltry in the country. Tell me, what need does she have of you?"

Behind him, Barbara let out a laugh, and he turned to her quickly to deliver a sharp glare.

"Now, see here, Curtis?—"

Ambrose rounded on him, not letting him finish his sentence. "You will leave this garden quietly and without any further protest. If you have friends waiting for you inside, tell them you have fallen ill and take your leave."

"Or what?" Dennings seethed, stepping toward him challengingly.

Ambrose smiled coolly, like a vampire about to take advantage of his meal. "Remember who keeps your darkest secrets, Dennings," he whispered, speaking loud enough so that only the man could hear him.

Dennings blanched, considerably so, and the anger left his face in the span of a blink. "I believe I do feel ill," he stated, his voice a hoarse whisper.

Ambrose gave him an affirmative nod, the look in his eyes still unbendingly dominant. "Indeed, you are. Why do you not take yourself home and tend to that?"

A stiff, piss-poor bow was all Ambrose received before the man left without another word, walking past Barbara and Helena as if they did not even exist, and heading directly toward the party.

Ambrose kept his eyes on Dennings' back until he disappeared around the bend that would lead him to the massive and elegant greenhouse that hosted the event.

" What did you say to him?" Barbara asked at his side.

He whirled to her and his sister, his dark blue eyes casting an outraged, disappointed glare.

"Ambrose," Helena murmured, and then he exploded.

"What the bloody hell were you thinking?" he hissed, his voice low but full of rage. "I was fine with you using Helena to look for information about prospective husbands, but using her as bait?! I should bend you both over my knee and discipline you right here! Do you have any idea what type of danger you?—"

"Brother, stop, she did not use me. She saved me!" Helena shrieked, far too loudly.

Startled by her brazen speech, he hissed at her to keep it down before Helena barreled over his words again.

"I had come to the garden to get some air, I was feeling a bit lightheaded with all of the heat inside. I stepped out, seeing a beautiful array of flowers in this alcove, and had no idea I had been followed. It was me he had pinned against the wall before he'd grabbed ahold of Barbara, and it was only because of her that he had let me go."

Ambrose turned to Barbara, who was returning his cold stare with a frostier glare, despite the deep green of her eyes. The guilt he had pushed away before rose again, and he swallowed hard, catching both his breath and his thoughts.

She had saved his little sister? Of course, she had, he realized. Bravery had never been absent in her spirit.

"Is this true?" he asked carefully.

Barbara stared at him with that icy glare a moment longer, then said, "If I had a pistol I would have fired it right into his pretty eye for what he was trying to do to Helena. She is my friend, and I will always protect her."

He could not help the smirk that tugged at his lips as he heard her response. Blunt—that was another good word for Barbara. Vicious, too. Not at all like his proper, sweet sister, whom he loved so dearly. Ambrose took another deep breath, accepting that he had made an error.

"Helena? We shall be taking our leave soon," he stated, his voice calm once more. "I need a moment to speak privately with Lady Barbara. There is a bench just a few paces to the left outside of the alcove. Please be so kind as to wait for me there. If any man approaches you, yell my name immediately."

Ambrose was thankful that Helena did not argue with him, and he waited patiently as his little sister hugged her dear friend tightly before doing as she was told. Once alone, he cleared his throat and pulled at the sudden tightness of his cravat. When he looked at Barbara again, she was still fixing him with her icy stare, her arms folded firmly over her chest. He noted the new shade of her gown and the delicate lace she had added to it to make herself more approachable and feminine. She was truly trying to uphold her end of the deal.

"I owe you an apology for what I accused you of," Ambrose apologized, albeit a tad begrudgingly. "It was poor judgment on my part, and I should have known that you would never put my sister in danger."

"You are damned right I would not," she snapped, baring her teeth like a feral cat. Even her shoulders were raised, nearly touching her ears. A tiny predator ready to strike, even if she knew her odds were slim.

"You know, you will never catch a husband if you use such vulgar language so freely," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

He'd issued his apology. She'd spit it back at him. It was time to move on.

"Oh, I only use such colorful language around you, Your Grace, " she shot back with just as much venom.

Ambrose huffed, his smirk growing wider. "While I am flattered you hold such a special favor for me, it is for another man you should be granting favors. I will certainly not marry you."

"And thank the Lord and his angels for that." Barbara laughed bitterly, dramatically rolling her eyes.

Ambrose could not help but chuckle. Damn him, but he did find her amusing. His amusement for her, however, would not find her a husband. That, fortunately or not, was how they would both be set free. He took a step closer, his smile slipping into a grim line.

"As much as I am enjoying our new form of conversation, we have more pressing matters to discuss, Barbara. Regardless of this ‘situation' with my sister, you proved to me this evening that you cannot find a husband on your own."

Barbara's eyes widened incredulously for a moment before they narrowed, her nose scrunching up as they did so.

Did she know she only makes herself look adorable, not frightening, when she makes this face?

"I shall have you know I was this close to getting a dance from a rather wealthy, single gentleman when I discovered your sister missing," she shot back, holding the tiniest of space between her left thumb and pointer finger. "If you had been keeping an eye on her, I could be accepting an invitation to call tomorrow."

"I was distracted because I was watching you fail so miserably," Ambrose retorted dryly, rubbing the fingertips of his right hand together. "Your change of gown is noted, and your near success at getting a dance was indeed genuine. But trust me, Barbara, for whatever reason, no matter how noble, you slighted that man by leaving him standing there with his invitation in hand. He will not give you another chance. And with that small opportunity squished, I am afraid that you are going to have to accept my help."

Barbara laughed, the sound pouring out of her throat. The sound threatened to expose them, she knew, but she was so taken aback by what Ambrose had said that she could not help herself. His help. His help?!

"I want nothing from you but a note of settlement when this is over," she growled, stepping away from him as smugness took over his handsome face.

"This is a swift blow to the ego, I have no doubt," Ambrose drawled. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at her as if he were bored. "But the truth remains all the same. You are horrible at this, Barbara. You have no idea how to hold a conversation with a man without being condescending to him. You are speaking to them as if they are just toys for you to possess."

"You mean I am treating them like they treat women?" she retorted, her brow raised in challenge. "Because from my experience and that of many others, that is exactly how men go about getting a wife."

"Do you want to be a man, Barbara?" Ambrose asked.

The question, asked in a bored tone, took Barbara aback, cooling her anger.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

Ambrose shrugged, walking in a slow circle around her, coming a little closer with each step. "You dress like a man. You handle affairs while pretending to be a man. And when it comes to courting, you prefer to be the man—I believe that is what you were saying. So, I ask again, do you want to be a man?"

"No," she replied. Then, before she knew it, a little more truth than she intended tumbled out of her lips.

"I hate all of this. I do not want to be the person who takes care of everything. I do it because I have no choice! You want me to act like a woman, but you have no idea how rarely I get the opportunity to be one. And I do not mean for just a few hours with my friends.

"I may not like the frillier dresses, and I despise a bonnet with flowers in it, but that does not mean I do not want to be a woman. I just do not have the privilege to. Whether you believe it or not, I am taking this seriously, because even if this is for you, for my father, perhaps it could be for me, too. Perhaps I will finally find a man who makes me feel feminine again."

Ambrose was silent a long time, studying her with a contemplative look she'd never seen before. He was still close, too close, she decided, as his presence was making her grow warm. But she would not move away from him. She would not be ashamed of her feelings. Not when he had been the one to pull them out of her.

"Then make it a play," Ambrose stated, breaking the silence at last.

"What?" she asked with an exhausted sigh.

"Like when you dress as a man. You put on an act. This is the same. You will just pretend you are as feminine as you want to feel."

"I have no idea how to do that," she said with a groan, then pushed at his shoulder. "And step away. You crowd me too much."

"The first thing I will teach you then is how to be comfortable in a gentleman's presence," Ambrose replied. "You cannot get to know a gentleman if he cannot get near you."

The coolness in his gaze had heated, and the tone of his voice dipped another octave. It sent a shiver down Barbara's spine, but she hid it, drawing her mouth into a fine line.

"You?" she asked, watching his hand as it came to rest on her shoulder. "Teach me?"

The heat from his touch seeped through the fabric of the dress and into her skin. Ambrose nodded, taking a slow, subtle step to the left, circling her again. She said nothing as his fingertips trailed from her shoulder to her neck, over the column of her throat, and then to the back of her neck.

Barbara chewed on her bottom lip.

"I won't just teach you," he told her, his touch sending licks of fire through her as he traced around her back to her other shoulder. "I will help you find the right husband. Someone who can settle my debt and give you what you want."

"You are not one to share in your good fortune," Barbara managed to say, her breath short. "Besides, why do you care what I want?"

Ambrose chuckled as he stepped in front of her again, his fingertips gliding to her jaw, then her chin, then finally, her lips. He brushed the pad of the thumb over her bottom lip, smoothing over the indents her teeth had just made there.

Barbara, despite despising the man circling her, almost gasped aloud at the pleasure his touch gave her.

"Once in a while, there is an opportunity for a deal that causes both parties to walk away completely happy," he replied, his voice teasing her again. "Perhaps this can be one of them."

Through the pleasure her body was feeling, Barbara felt wariness rise from within. Though her skin ached in protest when she pulled away from his touch, she forced herself to take a step back from him and reached for her usual courage.

"I do not believe you," she replied. "Besides, it does not matter. It has been a month. I have failed."

The disgust she had been reaching for earlier rose back up with ease, and her sneer returned to her face.

"But I will not go quietly."

"I shall give you another month to find a husband if you accept my help," Ambrose replied, pretending as if he did not hear her little threat.

Barbara frowned, again not trusting him. "Why would you do that? You're getting what you want."

"The money is what I want, not to be your landlord or whatever I may be if I take over your household," Ambrose replied matter-of-factly. "And because, whether it was carried out stupidly or not and with little regard for your own safety, you saved my sister. You deserve grace for that, at the very least."

Barbara opened her mouth to snarl at him, but she drew herself up short. She knew Ambrose took Helena's safety seriously, and knew that by him mentioning her, his offer was genuine. She pondered his proposal to "help" her. Then pondered the prospect of living with him as a constant interloper in her home until her father paid his debt.

It was an easy choice to make.

"Thank you," she said at last, letting out a sigh as she raised her eyes to his.

His limp expression widened into a slow smile, and he walked up to her again.

"That was beautiful," he praised, his voice caressing her ears as he came a hair's breadth close to her neck as he passed by her. "Next time add sir. You will definitely lure in a husband then."

Flustered, frustrated, and now embarrassed by how her body was suddenly reacting to him, Barbara let out an irritated groan, hiked up her skirts, and shouldered him roughly as she walked briskly past him.

Behind her, she heard his arrogant laugh and cursed herself once more for getting into her father's business.

"You have a lovely walk about you," she heard Ambrose say approvingly as she left. "I do not think we shall have to change that about you, at least."