The Virgin and the Viscount (Lords of Vice #4) - Robyn DeHart Page 0,2

Thomas was married to Matilda’s sister. Still, she wanted Thomas.

The war in the Indies had ended and he’d been home for several months. In that time, he’d been intrigued by the tall, unconventional beauty. However, she’d taken an instant dislike to him. And now, finally, he understood why—she’d been harboring romantic feelings for his younger brother.

“Plans to find your own bride?” Roderick asked.

“No. I suspect my work is not done with the East India Company and I’ll be called up to travel east again. There’s no reason to saddle a woman with that burden.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Besides, I believe you’re the one of us who actually requires a wife. Need to secure your heir.”

“You become viscount if I don’t have an heir,” Roderick said.

“Precisely why you should find yourself a wife.”

Roderick laughed again. “You know if you want her, you should court her.”

His stomach plummeted, not an easy feat considering he was horizontal. “Who?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

“Don’t think me daft, dear brother. I’ve seen the way you look at Melanie’s sister. Nothing wrong with brothers marrying sisters.”

There were five Chase brothers: Roderick, Sullivan, Thomas, Ulysses, and Franklin. Their father, Quinton, had gone with a strange alphabetical naming strategy, but he’d died during their mother’s fifth and final pregnancy so she’d named the last boy something different to spite him. Or at least that’s what they’d always assumed. She had an overt fondness for Franklin and Thomas.

“I’m a soldier,” Sullivan said. “I don’t need a wife.”

“But you want her.”

He briefly considered denying it, but Roderick was far too observant to be fooled by an outright lie. “I will admit to finding her unconventional beauty rather appealing, but that doesn’t mean I want her for a bride.”

“Unconventional beauty?” Roderick asked with a scoff.

Sullivan turned a sharp eye to Roderick. “You don’t think she’s beautiful?”

He shrugged, examining his tumbler of whiskey. “She’s too tall.”

“As are we all,” Sullivan blurted, surprising even himself. “I wouldn’t want a bride I had to bend over to look in the eyes.”

Roderick slanted a glance from his drink to Sullivan. “I thought you said you didn’t want a bride?”

“I don’t.” Sullivan downed his own drink.

“But if you did you would want her to be tall?”

“Yes.”

“Like Matilda?”

He felt his jaw clenching. “No. Not like Matilda.”

Not someone who was in love with his younger brother. Not someone too blinded by Thomas’s charm and wit to see the cunning beneath his smiles.

“But you admit she is beautiful?” Roderick asked. “Albeit unconventionally so.”

Unbidden, the image of Matilda as she’d been last night rose in his mind. The delightful dusting of freckles across her fair skin. The blaze of her cinnamon-colored hair as it glowed in the lamplight.

She was unlike any other woman in London.

“She is a poppy in a field of wheat,” he mused aloud.

And then was instantly irritated with himself when Roderick smirked. “Ah, that dark red hair of hers rising up in a field of simpering blondes. I see your point. It’s a good thing you don’t want her, though, isn’t it?”

For the first time since they’d both reached manhood, Sullivan wanted to punch his older brother.

Chapter One

Five years later

Tilly stood in the ballroom eyeing the dancers. Several of her friends had recently married, and of late she’d found herself standing mostly alone at these parties. She was all right with that. People were tedious at times.

“My dear Matilda,” a man’s voice came from her side.

She glanced up to find her brother-in-law. “Good evening, Thomas. Are you finding the ball to your enjoyment?”

“I’m enjoying it much more now.” He gave her a smile. “I was hoping you would dance with me. Your sister was supposed to dance this next waltz with me, but she has disappeared.”

Tilly smiled and nodded. “I would be delighted.” Though she no longer felt anything more than sisterly affection for Thomas, she could still recognize he was a handsome man. Not as handsome as his scoundrel of a brother, but still pleasant to look upon. Since he and her sister, Melanie, had been married, Thomas had softened some around the middle. His hair had thinned in places and grayed in others. But his blue eyes still shone brightly and his smile was as warm and charming as ever.

He placed her hand in the crook of his elbow and led her onto the dance floor as the swells of the music began to play.

“The musicians are quite talented,” she said.

“Indeed. It makes for pleasant dancing.”

They were silent for a few measures